Delight

I mistrust my own feelings of delight and have for several years, knowing that what goes up must come down.

But- I feel delighted nonetheless and the light is certainly changing in Denver. All at once, things are warmer and brighter and the arrival of spring seems certain. This has lifted my spirits considerably… I have cut forsythia branches and taken them inside to brighten the house within the next week or two. They are johnny-on-the-spot reliable when taken inside at this time of year; outside, it’s much iffier. Late freezes can kill all those hopeful buds.

I have a largish painting, a Cabatisto, on the easel and in the works this evening.

I have a smallish painting about earworms in the works as well.

It is Lent and that means something to me, though I’m not sure why.

I think of Lent, I guess, as the darkness before the dawn and a good time to exercise self-sacrifice- knowing that this must have as many meanings as there are souls out there.

(I haven’t smoked in two months. I think I smell fabulous, but that’s entirely subjective.)

This is something else that delights me as I paint tonight- a pianist named Geno Pallila. A lovely Chopin improvisation. I thank the gods for technology, which makes this huge world smaller in so many inexpressible  ways.

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