It was grey and cold.
Then, the brightest goldest ray of light escaped through a hole in the clouds.
So, it was time to paint.
There has been some rain.
Snow on the mountain tops.
Just the weather the fruit trees and poppy seeds need for a good spring.
I had a small window of time to work on my bee.
My finger tips were frozen.
The temps dropped about 20 degrees from one day to the next.
Piping hot tea hits the spot when you are frozen.
But for some reason, I wouldn't pack it up and go into the studio.
The flower paintings beckon me outdoors.
Music, happiness, breeze, cold, sun, warmth, joy.
Warm me up little dry plant pieces in boiling water.
Steamed finger tips.
So chilly late in the afternoon.
I decided to run in and whip up a pot of fresh homemade matzo ball soup.
Mister Lovee was working in the garden.
I knew we needed something hot.
Running back and forth between soup making and paint...
Until the sun says, go inside now.
See you tomorrow.
And so, the flower paintings must wait until tomorrow.
Forced to go inside, I light the candelabra...
And read my antique flower book.
Plotting and planning...
Petals in poems.
What will tomorrow hold?
I have poppies of the brain.
Foxglove in my dreams.
Camellia buds in the garden.
I stayed up until 3 a.m. last night, running around, singing, dancing.
Harassing my little family.
All the boys just wanted to sleep.
Just don't wake me up from a sleep, or Bruhmhilda will turn up very angry, haha!
Flowers on the menu tomorrow.
Tulips are sprouting and daffodils are blooming
Tell me something weird and random.
ps: The boy who follows my every move.
The boy who can go from sweet to meanest little dog ever in 0 seconds.
The boy who hates people...
Let me snap his photo today.
He's getting some grey whiskers.
Even whilst sleeping, those little ears are on full alert.
Make one move and he is up and ready to attack :)
I am so glad he likes me.