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:

persimmon watercolor, close-up

persimmon watercolor, close- up

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.

painter's mess

painter's mess