I Only Went To Have A Look.....

I went to have a look at the Fall Harvest of Art festival, at a local park yesterday. The day was damp and gray. But here, damp and gray is almost a treat.

I wasn't searching for anything, just a pleasant way to spend an hour or two, while the OC was golfing.

Golfing makes me yawn.

Art shows make him yawn.

So we agree to differ....

There are lots of retired folks in our area who moved here from "up north." Their bones bring them here.... Wimpy bones, like mine, that don't like to shiver [with delight, yes; from freezing weather, no!].....
And an aversion to shoveling snow!
People forget that old people used to be young people. Young and vibrant and talented. There were wood carvers there, and photographers; oil painters and watercolorists; potters and glass painters; jewelers and metal sculptors.





I zig-zagged along the pathways that meandered through the trees, stopping here for a closer look, there to admire a technique, and everywhere to marvel at the creativity. But I managed to remain unencumbered.

Until, that is, I came to this:





I was smitten at once by the soft colours, the greens, the blues and the beiges. The artist was an elderly lady, as soft and feminine looking as her paintings. If I'd had to guess, without seeing her, I'd have guessed she was much younger. So, I am guilty too!

She saw that I liked it, and was eager to sell. No, no I'm just looking. I walked away, but soon I was back, drawn by the those irresistible colours. But still I demurred. I'd walk around, and think about it..... I thought about it. Where would I hang it? I'd have to find a frame, and I'm hopeless at finding frames.....Why did I like it? Another picture to dust! I'm allergic to dusting, and knick-knacky things that constantly require it.... But this would hang, be vertical, less of a dust trap.

I walked a small circle, and then I was back. She smiled as she sweetened the pot---"I'll let you have it for---[$10 less than marked.]"

Being the sleuth that I am, it didn't take long to figure out it's charm.....I dug in a drawer for some scarves of my mother's. There's that smoky blue and soft greeny-gray. I remember her wearing them as I was growing up. The colours of those scarves are my memory of my mother. Maybe that's what drew me to the striped sweater in this picture? And that sunny sundress? And that pottery bowl which I salvaged, years ago, from a potter friend's rubbish bin! And that blue jug??





My mother and I were not very close. I wish I'd had more sympathy, more empathy, more compassion, more understanding...I wish I could have seen her life from inside her skin, even for an hour.

Too late.

She's gone.

And here I am. Grasping at straws. Wrapping myself in her colours, which are my colours now. If I ever find a magic lamp and a genie pops out, my first wish will be to see my mother for an hour. So I can hug her and let her know I love her. I get her now...since I'm a mother too......When we meet, I'll wear one of her scarves, and she can wear the other.

I wonder if everyone has such convoluted reasons for buying a painting.......