It’s Wednesday. Even though it’s a new blog year, I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to keep blogging on Wednesdays. I reserve the right to change my mind, of course. It’s a new year, after all. I could switch to a different day. I could switch to just putting up a post whenever I feel like it. It’s my blog. It’s not as if I will be reported to the blog police if I go crazy and change my commitment.
The day may come when I change that commitment, but it is not this day. This day is Wednesday and I will publish a blog post. I have no idea whether I will make a new creative commitment for the new blog year. I’m still catching my breath from meeting the last one. It took a huge push in the last nineteen days but I managed to finish fifty plein air paintings before my blogiversary. Most of them are tiny, but there are fifty of them and I do get a kick out of looking at them and remembering where I was when I painted them.
If you’ve been following along, you know that was mostly my own yard, but I did actually drive to some local parks for some of them. I find I still need to work out logistics. I can get all my stuff out the door in one trip, but it takes me at least three to bring it all back in, when the canvases and brushes are wet. Maybe I’ll decide to work on that in my new blog year. I know I will keep painting.
It was fun to show off my paintings to my grandsons when they came over for birthday cake. I believe I heard the words, “Holy crap!” when they saw all my little canvases. They were impressed by the sheer number, of course, but they also admired my trees. My middle grandson has been particularly supportive of my efforts. He was the first person besides myself to own one of my paintings. I was honored when he asked. Sometimes it’s hard to know whether people are just being polite when they say they like my paintings but young children are notoriously honest. When he says he likes my work, I believe him.
The important thing, of course, is that I like my work. I do like it. I can see massive imperfections in all of my paintings, but I still like them. I can look at each one of them and see some tiny thing that works. It might just be one bit of light on the underside of a leaf and I might not even understand how I did it or why it works but it still gives me hope. It works. If I did it once, in a tiny way, there’s no reason I can’t learn to do it more and more, if I just keep painting.
I will keep painting. I have no idea what shape my new blog year will take, but I know that. I will keep painting.