Not my favorite month. This is the month my father (2017), my aunt (2018), and my brother (2020) died. So there aren't any paintings posted in this month. Yet.
Went north for my brother's memorial. Saw family for the first time in a year. Walked in the woods, took time near the ocean, then headed further north where the highway was empty and the trees were dense. Made friends with a lot of tiny dogs, observed a stream and all of its little rocks.
Been taking the month for all of this and more.
Trying to access feelings without mercilessly picking them apart to make sense of them. Instead of watching a river all day and all night, it's better to just jump into its waters, drift with the current, watch out for rocks, feel how the water changes temperature during shallow and deep variation.
Living this river metaphor just hasn't been possible.
In order to continue life on earth, my brain has built partitions.
Despite that, it was pleasant to explore where the dusty grand air of California redwoods smelled ancient in the pause of knowing.
And then tarms and barns and livestock.
Headed back down the highway, watched swarms of bats, their murmurations whirling toward an almost full moon.
In Los Angeles, ill nibs found damn good ink and made some iffy scratches on fancy paper. Let's see if any of it goes in the catalogue in this here store, but... I dunno.