yesterday i painted. i opened the little wooden box i bought in paris 19 years ago. the little box where i'd glued down the watercolor godets i'd been buying from the sennelier store across the river from the louvre. the little box i carried with me everywhere for a decade or more. but i haven't painted in years. it was once almost all i did. a day didn't pass without painting. but my dream shifted, i grew older and my need to paint began to fade. the oils dried up. the brushes sat ruined in thick congealed mud-colored turp. but it was never too far from my thoughts and now the itch is beginning to return. yesterday the watercolors from my paris days, opened on the porch swing, and paper and books and brushes. i painted.

the lake was full of treasure today. for the first time this year, i sat at it's edge and filled my little bucket with glass. i love sitting in the rocks, my skirt soaked to my knees (or higher), sifting through rocks and pebbles and wet sand for glass. sometimes it shimmers. and at times it sits silently among the pebbles, looking like one of them, soft and dull and smooth. it is my meditation. this little pile was today's catch. a perfect summer beginning.

a holiday monday is most always steeped in ease. and today, the first holiday of the summer is hot and cloudless and sits like summer. nothing is necessary. it's a holiday. a little gardening. a little reading. a little walk. the lake is still and sparkly. the leaves aren't fully opened so the light is bright. and i will drink in the laziness, soak in the quiet. the boys and beer inaugurated tom's horseshoe pits for the season. and although there are the sounds of children playing and boats on the lake, there is a subdued quality in the air.

it was mother's day, 15 years ago. and it came flooding back to me yesterday. we were driving back from my parents and passed a little strip mall where the 'golden griddle' used to be. and in a rush i was there, a younger version of myself with my grandparents. it was the last mother's day my grandmother was alive. she wasn't frail, just slow and careful. and radiant. there was a glow of happiness around her. my aunt and i took them for a casual easy breakfast, but my grandpa wore a suit and hat, and my grandma wore a pretty dress. usually it would be my parents as well as my other grandma at our meals out, making a large and at times raucous table. but this time it was just the four of us. and it was lovely. i could savour the moment, without knowing i had to. and my grandfather could proudly reach for the check and pay for our breakfast. and just 2 months later, my grandmother had the accident that led to her death a month after that. so the memory of a sunny morning in a little pancake place in a strip mall is a dear one.

the lilacs are wonderful this week. our yard has huge old lilac bushes around the perimeter and this year the flowers are huge and lush. but i can't bring them inside. tom hates their scent. so i must be content with filling the studio with mason jars full of purple blossoms and buckets of them on the porches. and now, outside on the porch swing the air is full of lilac. even though tom is barbecuing burgers for naomi and meagan, the lilacs still overpower the barbecue smell. naomi is on the tire swing, edgar is lying on the porch. the cats are skulking through the grass. and the lilacs and apple blossoms sweeten the air.

this morning there is a mist sifting up off the lake. the air is thick and muffled. sounds are softer like during a snowstorm.
the flowers are magnificent. the tulips have been beautiful for more than 3 weeks. the lilacs are full and dripping around the edges of the garden. and i see the peonies are preparing to burst on the scene in a couple of weeks. may is a color-infused month. the leaves on the trees are the new young bright green. and the leaves aren't as full so the light isn't as filtered. so everything seems that much brighter.
we are hoping to bring the brightness of the lilacs to the studio tomorrow evening. on thursday may 17th (tomorrow), we are opening the studio from 3 - 9 pm. there is new art to see. and our guest is agnes koller of fig design, with her divine pictures. so have a little evening outing, sip lemonade and stroll through the little white house finding treasures. 55 mowat avenue in portsmouth village.

i've been finishing up my tiny white gallery. it's ceilings are low and sloped. but it's not even a little bit cramped. i've been sorting through collage and watercolors. sitting in my little treehouse-like room all afternoon. adjusting and staring. breathing in the calm and the faint scent of fresh paint. and placing pieces against the walls, choosing an order for them. and then this evening sitting in the glow of evening light, talking with tracy and just enjoying the room and the art.
next week, on thursday, may 17th, i'll debut my new little space. and we will be welcoming agnes koller and her charming prints and paintings. the little white house at 55 mowat avenue in portsmouth village will be hosting an evening event. the shop will be open from 3 p.m. while our event will be from 6 -9 p.m. come join us!