"Gardening is an instrument of grace." May Sarton
Before I left for the shore, I was greeted by the blooms of my peonies, which this year would prove to be prolific. I had one night left to record their existence, which sweetens my life. I knew they would not last until I returned. So, I plucked two of the best and one purple iris. Stayed up late and painted, falling into bed in the wee hours of morning rested and grateful for the simple joys and fruit of my labors, painting and flower gardening.
There is something to be said for dirty, short, unmanicured nails/ hands and faith in the future that painter and gardeners have in common.