Hmmm… not a good start to my day I thought. It’s raining so no cycling we’ll have to leave early and walk (can’t have my poor grandson sitting in wet trousers at school all day) never mind I’ll take the bus back…
Hmmm… they cut the bus again! grrrr!!! Now I’ll have to walk back in the rain too.
Passing by the path we normally cycle through the lakes on a tinge of rebellion invades me. I turn off the faster main road. My pace slows. I notice how swollen the river rushing on its path as I cross the bridge into tranquility. At a slower pace I pause again and again noting the soft play of the remaining winter, yellow oche, stems against the new spring growth, catch the play of shadows shaping new contours
My artist’s eyes awaken from sleep, everywhere I look compositions leap out to me, the urge to paint, to capture the delight I feel surges through me like a flood tide. The world is transformed. I’m happy it rained, happy there was no bus, or I’d have missed these moments.