My grandma used to have a cast iron trivet that she hung over her stove that said "The hurrier I go the behinder I get."
Something about the mix of Seussian wordplay and country-folk grammar of that sentence appealed to me enough that it stayed with me all these years.
That has very little to do with my intended topic, but the fact that I find myself constantly behind the seasons made me think of it. Things I photograph (or think or feel) in fall are now finally making their way onto my blog, as they simmered in my head and then came to life on my canvas over the winter and early spring. Now that the tulip bulbs and hyacinths are bending over in my front flower patch, I can finally unveil all this work that is no longer in step with the seasons.
I began painting this canvas after we came home from Sedona. I fell in love with the scenery at Slide Rock State Park. There was an old working apple orchard there dating back to pioneer times. The apple trees topped by the trademark Sedona-colored cliffs behind were ripe for painting.
The painting I made of the scene was just as good as your mom's friend who took up painting as a way to occupy her time after the kids went to college. Very nice. So I painted over it and tried again. (Maybe I should have photographed it before I killed it but I didn't. It looked very much like the photo.)
This time, I abandoned Sedona and just painted an autumn view I saw once.
I see a trend this spring. I try to recreate a picture, remember I already HAVE the damn picture, and try again, this time to recreate the feeling I want to convey about the picture. Wow, even writing about it sounds cliched and like something your friend's mom would write. Dammit, Lizbeth (she used to be Liz but she's called herself Lizbeth ever since she got home from that yoga retreat). Get out of my head!
I am what I am, I guess. To paraphrase Neil Diamond. Or was it Popeye?
Anyway, enjoy an Autumn Road.