I can tend towards the pensive. It is my nature. My daily surroundings of solitude and sea probably only aid in this nature, but I embrace it. And with our coming storm, the air and sky just fits my mood today: contemplative.
Puss can feel the coming storm and she, like me, likes to star longingly, if not a bit pensively, out to sea. We don't mind the grey sky and our natures almost long for it.
The sea and sky are leaden grey one gets with the onset of a storm. The stark contrast of the ochre yellows of the dying switch grass whispers the end of Summer. The birds have been quiet today. The snowy egret who fishes our shore each morning has chosen to stay in bed, I think. Maybe she is dreaming of the storm or snuggling in with a birds version of a 'good book and a cuppa'.
It is a fine day to be pensive. A wonderful day to sit at one's desk, watching the sky, smirking at the antics of the chickens, now moved to the tall grass of my wildflower meadow. It is no accident these things sit outside my window where I create and think and dream. The little new hens dash out to investigate the joy of the tall grass and flowers then consider the weather and dash back in. Their toing and froing enlivens the quiet landscape. Even the song birds have not visited their feeder, also placed just so for my enjoyment.
Maybe it has been the coming storm, but my mood towards my art has been different this past week. I oft try to do daily finished pieces and usually find myself accomplishing this, but these past few days I have had this image in my head: A little girl with loved doll and dog in a landscape with the ghost of an old dog. Now, whether this dog will remain a ghost or simply be an earthly companion, I don't as yet know. The sketch is done and the work has been ongoing. Maybe the ghostly dog is the coming storm and the little girl is anticipating it with her chums.
My artwork is often a little story in my head and this week it has been a graphic novel of adventure with these characters, so I am merely trying to lay down one brief moment in the time of their doings. A contemplative and pensive person at her tooing and froing, only not as energetic as her hens.
I hope you like the start of my funny little painting and are enjoying the window gazing from whatever part of the world in which you inhabit.
To the coming storm of creativity.