Hold the Botox and send in the ducks.

I'm catching my breath today after a a few amazingly beautiful days when I was busy outdoors. Yes, after a protracted, cold and dreary spring, the sunny weather arrived last weekend and continued to be nice all week. Just as all the spring blooms popped out of the ground at once, in celebration, I popped out of my house. It felt like being released from jail. I was free to roam and plant things, monitor my Koi activity in the pond, and lunch al fresco on my deck. I was so pleased to see those small pale green leaves misting the trees, that I decided to do some landscape painting before the foliage burst into deep summer greens. It happens so quickly that I only had a window of a few days. With nothing to distract me, I packed up my easel, paint bag and board to capture what I could.

Last Monday I headed out to Donwood because the United Church there is perched on a hill that affords a beautiful view over the rolling pastures to the drumlins beyond. I set up my easel and began to paint. I was pretty rusty after nearly a year of being idle. I struggled with the medium, acrylic paints, which dry very fast. I'm used to oils, which are slow drying, so I was handling the acrylics like oil paints and it was so frustrating. I felt like I was at war with my board. Eventually I simmered down and achieved something. I was not happy with the painting, but the location and solitude were bliss. Several hours later I headed home, tired and happy.

The following day I tackled the same painting to correct some errors that would drive me crazy if left unresolved. The end result was much better and I came to understand what I needed to do with that troublesome medium. I would have to approach the task in a whole different way.

The next time I went out with my gear, I chose a spot near here on the east bank of the Otonabee River. I often walk to this small bay and wetland because it is so wild. Looking through the trees to the far shore was a delight for the eyes. The sky and the pale green trees on the far shore, reflected in the water, gleamed like pale stained glass through the dark tree trunks and undergrowth around me. I painted fast with broad swaths of under-colour which I then layered over in more detailed sections. This approach worked with the quick drying time instead of against it. Problem solved. This left me free to pay more attention to the actual scene before me and the composition of the painting. The resulting painting is much more successful.

As I worked, a woman walked by and said "are you painting a picture?" "Yes " I replied. She drew nearer and enthused, "Oh that's so beautiful". Thank you, says I. "You're an artist then". She continued on her way so very happy to have met an artist. I was on the verge of saying "I'm just a retired old woman who likes to paint". I'm glad I was able to restrain my self-deprecation and let her walk away happy.

As a reward, my HP sent me a family of Mallards - three drakes and a mama duck, who in a cacophony of quacking, was moving her brood of ten tiny ducklings off the nest and into the water for the first time. As the noisy little troop proceeded, the three drakes formed a protective circle around them. The last little duckling stumbled into the water and joined the line of precision swimmers as they moved away from shore with the drakes taking up their guard positions as out swimmers. Wonderful, wonderful!

All good things come to those who wait. Why is patience so difficult to learn when it is so rewarding? It is one of the greatest gifts of old age. I can experience so much more with so much less energy and drama expended. Patience and the value of solitude make aging really worthwhile.

Hold the Botox and send in the ducks.