
While we enjoyed a few hours of sun over the weekend, today I cancelled another outdoor painting date because of rain. Here’s what happened the last time I ignored a forecast...
When I arrived at my favorite painting spot, the clouds were still a long way off. Thinking I had plenty of time, I shouldered my pack and released the dogs from the truck. They shot off over the unmown field with unchecked joy, scaring birds and butterflies as they flew down the grassy path, barking, growling and biting each other.
The three of us made out way to the border between field and rocks. The view took my breath away for a moment, like it always does. But as I unloaded my box and tripod, the first drops started to fall and I heard soft thunder in the distance, I returned the easel to the pack, and started back. “I’ll put this away and try to just walk around. Maybe the weather will pass," I reasoned.
After stowing my gear, I took my two dogs and the extra golden that had joined us on a walk along the edge of land. Two storm-filled clouds came close. I saw lightening in them, but they left me in relative peace. Soon, the sun emerged and walking became hot work, especially in my long raincoat.
For about an hour, I explored my regular painting spots while the dogs ran, swam, wrestled and bathed in marsh mud. I realized that if I had just started painting right away, I might have finished a small one in that time. Frustrated, I decided to try again.
But when I turned back inland, I knew there would be no painting that day. A growing, slithering blackness that would not pass easily, quickly or lightly menaced the sky. I herded the dogs to the truck, and reluctantly left.
I survived driving through sideways sheets of rain, lightening strikes within feet of the road, and hail up to the size of peas. I couldn’t see and I knew the other drivers couldn’t either. I avoided route 95 and headed for the malls in Kittery, thinking I could pull over there. Not finding the correct exit through the deluge, I pulled into a mystery parking lot for refuge.Unwilling to leave the truck with the dogs in it, I waited.
After a few minutes, the madness passed - the terrible violence replaced by natural rains. I headed to my temporary coastal home for the night.
The next morning, I got up and painted this little canvas in Rye before it rained all over again. At least I got something done over two days of storms.