In a couple of stolen hours, while dad took two boys to the playground and the youngest napped, I snuck in a Sunday afternoon painting session. These moments feel hard-won sometimes, so I swept my drafting table clean of its clutter, no fussing with where to put this and that, just a clearing of the decks. My watercolors were already out, and those persimmons had been calling my name for days, so with a quick pencil sketch I set to it.
Here is a close-up of the finished painting:
Like a stretching of unused muscles, the painting felt a little stiff, and the effort a workout in seeing. Those oranges aren’t quite in my grasp yet, and each day they gain a purplish blush as the fruit ages, brown spots where they bruise, and bright shiny orange places where little fingers have touched them. With the colors ever-changing, I’ll aim for another painting before they are gone all together.