Elegant spring

We've been on the road through the countryside of Ontario in one of the loveliest springs I can remember. After what we lived through in the winter, (the winter shot was taken
December 16 at the very beginning
of the season. You can still see our tree) it's not much wonder that people are anxious to
see the heat climb.


The instant the snow melted people were out
buying plants and sticking them into the garden.

Luckily the spring hasn't moved into summer
as quickly as it does some years, so the blooming
trees are coming out and lasting just a touch
longer. They are striking.

Awhile ago I talked in the blog about Angela
my neighbour, and how her tree made me
think of her. This is her tree, a glorious
memorial that will be unacknowledged when
we leave our house, but stirs my memory
now.

Back to spring I don't think I've ever seen
people appreciate the season so much.
They may be rushing the shorts, but big deal --
There's a sea of blue forget-me-nots in the
garden.

This is the next in the series of Elizabeth
pictures. At this point the painting is
getting close to finished. I overexposed
the image, and some of the colour's
vibrancy was lost. More tomorrow.

Have a revelling day!

Loveliest Magnolia

It's on again -- the unofficial contest for the loveliest Magnolia
tree in Toronto. Just kidding. They are all magnificent,
even the smallest saplings with three or four blossoms catch
my eye. This is Sunday night and my family is here for dinner,
so I don't have time to say much. Wherever you are enjoy
the show. In Toronto it's just spectacular right now. After this
cold winter everyone is outside rejoicing. Why not? Here's a picture of a glorious tree I saw today.

Three cheers for spring tonight!

Watch for the signs

I remember one year a girlfriend of
mine dated a dull man who kept us
up-to-date on each blade of grass
as it popped up that spring. Behind
his back the rest of us, all university
students, mocked him gleefully,
pretending to analyze the coming
of spring with the same intensity. "Is it the beginning of the middle of spring,
or just the end of the beginning of spring?"

This year I finally get what he was so excited about, and how much he wanted to document it. I'm doing the same thing! He was a young professor, something I never hoped to be. And here I am a college prof, and every bit as pedantic.

So here's my news. The ice cream truck came by today! Little children
wearing T-shirts and jeans
ran up to the truck as it droned out its cheerful, scratchy tune.
Parents rolled their eyes and succumbed. Now that's a good
sign.

The pansy painting is one in a series, and about the size of this image.

Have a delicious day

Oh boy the pansies are back!

Hi,

Today was a great day for signs of spring. Steven likes to buy me
flowers every weekend as part of his Valentine's gift. The trip to
the flower store for locally grown roses (yellow this week) takes me by a window with what seems like
the ideal portrait chair (covet, covet). Today in front of that window
there were tulips getting ready to come up. It's still mighty cold,
but the bike is out of the snow bank (abandoned), and children are
walking along in T-shirts and shorts. Not me. It's spring, but with
a crisp chill in the air. We bought pansies and stuck them in our
huge planters out front. They look a bit lost, but I love them
I picked some. Yes! And brought them in to put in a little jug.
Expect a Pansie painting soon, when the marking is done.

Have a creatively flowering day!

Justa justa walking

Some days are almost too complicated to describe. I set off
on a walk to meet my sister part way down St. Clair. Right
away I realized that I've been shut in the house too much in
the last week. Everything looked like a 3 D movie. The
world was singing, completely high on itself. Robins flew
right over my face bragging about being birds, having wings,
being the birds everyone equates with spring.

Even a dilapidated house with a sign under the screen door
condemning it, looked hopeful. Then there were the upsetting
facts - nice old brick low-rise apartments being torn down
for condos, which will no doubt block the sun that sparkled
on everything, making every wish seem possible.

Later after coffee, I walked through Forest Hill with my sister,
and I must have been looking up as we talked because I noticed
such amazing chimneys. The massive mansions wear chimneys
in sculptural designs, not the simple blocks made of brick
favoured on my street.

The painting is one a I did several years ago of Miriam Kaufman's
parents. It has a cheery, spring feeling, so it works today. This is
one of the few portrait paintings I've done exclusively from photos,
without ever meeting the couple. I looked at at least 25 photos, and
had tea with Miriam more than once talking about her parents. So
the conversation took place, just not with the "sitters". I was
trying to capture the love these two felt for each other. I think that
comes through. And they both really liked the painting, which made
me feel lucky.

The rest of the day's been devoted to marking. I say take
your inspiration where you can get it.

Shopping along towards spring

Today was one of those
spring days you imagine
when you think of spring
fever. In English I sent my
restless students out to take
notes describing the landscape.
Back inside they wrote short
essays that captured the day perfectly.
The temperature hovered around zero,
but every student was dreaming about summer.

When I think of summer, this painting comes
to mind. The woman in the picture is the
quintessential summer person -- a gardener
who grows delicious cherry tomatoes,
a person who loves to be outdoors, and
a wonderful hostess.

My brother wants me to talk more
about painting -- to discuss how I do it,
and why I paint the way I do. When I'm painting portraits I respond
to the subject. The painting comes together after I've spent weeks
talking, painting and getting to know the person. This is true even with
old friends. The conversation guides me, even when the sitter has
to be quiet. I make hundreds of decisions in every session,
but that I am barely conscious of what I'm doing until we take
a break. In this case the sitter wanted to be pictured relaxing
in the sun in Greece. She was in fact in her own living
room, in a favourite chair. Everything from the colours I chose to
the style of the work developed unconsciously and consciously
from our delightful conversations.

But back to shopping. I was talking to a friend tonight who can't
wait to go out and get new drapes. For women involved in demanding
work, shopping is the ideal break. We may not even buy anything,
but whether we stroll through a mall, or a market, the variety of
goods, the colours, even the music appeals to us. We feel briefly
released from our responsibilities and then frequently empty
handed, we go back to work renewed.

During this past winter shopping was more of a chore than a pleasure.
The mall parking lots had mountains of snow blocking many
spots. Drivers were edgy and aggressive. The whole process was
fraught. It's late, I have to go. No shopping today.

My advice to those who paint is just this -- do it. I meet so many
painters who say that they no longer have time. Make the time.
Make a place, start small and keep on going. There I hope I made
my brother happy.

Goodnight

Have a magnanimous day tomorrow.

Working the spring thing

Pink light was bouncing off the tall apartment
buildings near my local Loblaws store tonight
when Steven and I went out to pick up some
groceries for dinner. It's the busiest time
of the year at school, and yet spring insists
on slamming itself into your senses. She's like
the fascinating guest who arrives very late at a
party. In she swirls in her fabulous clothes,
breathless with excitement and wonderful
stories -- but you are exhausted, and can barely
keep your eyes open, though you desperately
want to hang on her every word.

So far she's sending flights of excited birds
up into brilliant light in the late afternoon.
She's greening grass that was under seven
feet of snow two weeks ago, and sending rapids of
gushing water all over the province, causing some
serious floods.

I saw a hawk circling on my way to school,
and one just waiting to swoop on my way home.
I am dazzled at the changes, but tired tonight,
and crawling off to bed.

The picture is of a little painting called
The Jolly Fruit Bowl.

Tomorrow have the happiest day yet this year .

The call of the mild

Yesterday taking a break from marking I went
for a long walk in our local park. Spurred on by
my goal of 10,000 steps a day, I walked from one end
of the park to the other, looped up through the woods,
and then climbed the steep staircase up to cross the
bridge and home.

What a treat! A fine misty rain fell and the sky was
leaden. Each dark tree branch in the ravine was trimmed
with a row of raindrops. What surprised me was the colour.
I suppose I was plodding along deep in my own thoughts
when I saw a lime-ochre coating on one older tree. Then
colour seemed to pop out of the dull landscape everywhere.
The youngest saplings, right out of a Tom Thompson, were
a warm caramel colour, while up on the rise their older
sisters wore a vivid purply burgundy. In the marsh slashes of
bullrushes bent down by the winter were a tan yellow, and
seemed to have been whipped onto the surrounding snow
canvas with a palette knife.

In a large tree-sized sumach, about ten robins were happily
enjoying afternoon tea. Zoey and I got thoroughly soaked
and were righteously happy (for getting the 10,000 of course).
Spring is coming. Bring it on.
Here's a true spring day Steven captured a few years
ago in Rosedale -- a dream at this stage in the game.

Have an energetic day.

Snow banks melting

Hi,

It's been the most amazingly wonderful day here.
Suzanne and I went to Yorkdale for a mall walk.
It's the last official day off for March Break, and
the parking lot was packed. Teenagers in love strolled through the mall wearing exotic mixtures of clothing, and we walked loop after loop through the shopping center trying to get our 10,000 steps. It was so hot out that on the way back to the car we abandoned our thin jackets and rolled up our sleeves. Then we heard on the radio that it
was just 5 Celsius, and we laughed at how summery it felt.

I urged Steven to photograph me on top of Mount Cherrywood, our own personal snow mountain, because if the weather stays warm, this stuff is gone. It's already down by about a foot today.

After a whole winter, of what seemed like snow every day, that will be strange indeed. I planted the Canadian
flag on top of the mountain, and climbed back down.
The workers creating a much larger version of our little
summit, beside the Allen, have planted a flag at the top, about 75 feet up.
That pile covers at least an acre of land, and probably more. I can't
imagine how much water will flood the highway when that structure
melts. And there are similar mountains all over the city.

Have a springy day.