Peonies Dance for Me.

Science says that being grateful, being mindful, and participating in the arts are all good for our mental health. In the season of flowers blooming I find it easy to do it all, even when looking out my window tonight

My peonies are dancing. It is early evening, the time when each stem has its own golden spotlight. The buds are still tight heavy balls of vivid color on a stem that is both a red, and a green bold line. The breeze is gently moving them back and forth in a delicate synchronized pattern.

I watch the swaying peonies as they act as a backdrop to the leggy miniature roses.  Their blooms have a different beat. Unlike the peonies, each of the rose stems are moving in their own direction, some swaying, some bobbing up and down.

The roses are lighter and freer than the stiff peony stems grounded by big green leaves.

Later in the evening when the light is quite low the Calla lilies will glow with a soft inner light.  My brain says they are white, but experience has taught me that if I tried to paint them I would have to look more closely to discover their true range of colors.

A simple splash of Titanium white will not do justice to that soft white glow in an elegant shaped cup.

I love flowers. Can you tell? I once told a painting teacher that I couldn’t attempt to paint them since I experienced them as sacred. He didn’t see my point of view, but then he was an experienced painter.

I have put many flowers in front of my easel since . I have learned that like painting faces, I must concentrate on the joy of the  constant discovery of the beautiful bits while really looking in order to put down a mark, not worrying about the resulting image.

I must do my best to love the process of trying. Trying to capture just the right bits on a substrate to show the breathtaking energy of the whole.  If I am lucky, it will be a life long struggle.

And despite the struggle, perhaps even because of the struggle, I will remain grateful as I have learned to look deeply.