It is cold. It’s the kind of morning when you would stay in bed, but you have a rule about not sleeping in too much on Sunday because it throws you off enough to make Monday morning positively miserable. Besides, the furnace is acting weird, as it does in extreme cold, and you feel bad staying in bed when the husband keeps going to the basement to relight the pilot.
It’s the kind of cold morning when you ponder dumping everything you own and moving to a shack on a beach somewhere insanely hot.
Then your realize, on this blisteringly cold weekend, that you have friends who are intentionally out skiing in the 100-Mile Wilderness, climbing multiple 4,000 foot peaks in Maine, and participating in a 240 mile dogsled race in Michigan.
So you get up, put on a bunch of layers, a hat, your fingerless gloves and get back to the easel where multiple painting projects are waiting to flourish. I have one nearly finished watercolor in the works and sketches for a new oil painting (though I realize I can’t start a new giant painting until I sell one I already have - the tyranny of a tiny apartment).
The work feels good and has a positive flow to it. There’s a little bit of sun coming in the windows now and the heat comes on under my desk to keep me warm. I’m adding ink details to a mountain scene underpainted in watercolors and time disappears into the complete focus and attention of drawing.
And these are the moments I live for. When I’m not out on the trail, climbing toward a breezy summit or running along a tranquil lake’s edge, I am putting those things down on paper or canvas in some way. The ability to capture what’s best in life makes getting out of a cozy bed all worth it. It’s been a good weekend.