My Walk to the beach

My walk on an amazing day down to the beach through Lauldholm Farm in Wells.  It was the first day of summer.  I know we walk for exercise, but exercise for me is not only about exercising my body but my mind and senses.  I love the walk. The colors are not the only things speaking to me, the sounds and the smells on the walk are amazing and are a huge part of what I love about the walk down to the ocean.

The sounds are all around and not the sounds of cars or people talking but the sounds of the birds, the wave sliding in and out on the beach, nature.  Even up at the Main house you can hear the wave’s rhythmically crash up against the rocks and sand.  As I walk I hear all the different bird calls.  The catbird that really sounds like a cat, the Chicopee, Bluebirds, Swallows, lots of different bird calls I don’t know, it’s a regular choir of birds.  There are always rattles in the bushes, of I don’t know what.  Sometimes a chipmunk jumps out in front of me or a mouse.  The other day it was one lone Turkey strutting along.  And then there is the smell. 

I love all the smells.  The smell of the ocean, living and dying, the lush forest and the flowers.  Many spring flowers don’t have much sent, except for lilacs. Late spring, early summer flowers explode!  I just stand in the middle of the path and breathe in really deep and smell all the life teaming around me.  My favorite smell is the beach rose.  It starts blooming in the late spring and can bloom all summer long. The rose reminds me of my grandfather.  He grew long lines of beautiful roses and as a treat as a kid when we went to visit him we got to pick one rose to take home.  My sister and I would take a long time deciding which one was the perfect one that day.  We would have to look at each one, smell it and ask what kind of rose was it.  American Beauty, Peace and Mr. Lincoln were some of the names I remember.  Grandpa would cut our choice just before we left.  One for each of us.  We held it and smelled it all the way home.  Still a wonderful childhood memory.

So what does this all have to do with painting?  For me it’s part of what helps shape the picture, the love I have for the place.  If I’ve done it right, when I look at the picture I will be able to remember all that I heard and smelt on that beautiful walk down to the ocean.