Painting on the porch in the rain


There’s something about porches, don’t you think?  When you are able to let go of the critical “I should be elsewhere” mindset and just hang on a porch doing whatever.  If you’re like me, you find it liberating and reinvigorating.  To me it’s the ultimate “Hominid’s revenge” where we who stand on two feet and have opposible thumbs and think and plan and scheme, can come in close contact with the great outdoors without … you know … really being out there!  Where mother nature can rain down in all her splendor but we stay dry.  Where mosquitos and other bugs of all kinds swarm around hoping to feast on our fleshy skin and red blood.

God bless Lucilla!  That’s all I can say… Despite her cosmopolitan ways she had the foresight to add on a splendid and expansive porch to her Sylvan Park home, complete with screening, high-end ceiling fans and a bug-proof flooring barrier too.  So outside on the porch we of the Collaborative Artists Network (Nashville) who were in town painted. Judi has commenced her journey back to Geneve, Switzerland where we are hoping she’ll establish a CAN Chapter.  Margot is in the xenophobic state of Arizona babysitting children this week and recuperating from what sounds like a huge cold and laryngitis.  Lynne was recuperating closer to home after two exhausting weeks of setting up and arranging her show at the Gas Lamp in Nashville.

And so it was that Barbara, Lucilla and I found ourselves enjoying the splendor of her porch, some great food she prepared (but wasn’t supposed to), and one another’s company.  We didn’t so much paint as talk and learn and plan for the future of our group and more.  In the end, I set about playing.  One of my paintings took on a “Georgia O’Keefe-ish” style, according to Lucilla and Lynne who showed up late to grace us with her presence.  They claim it was because I had today’s afternoon gynecological appointment on my mind.  I put dots to represent cave dwellings on the hillside, but it definitely needs more work before I post it here.

I’m exhausted now, having gone to the doctor (just an annual checkup and all is well, in case you’re wondering) and gotten stuck in commuter traffic.  My BFF from New Jersey claims we could never live there, given the amount of commuter traffic they endure daily. Even though it took me a full hour to get home from downtown, Nashville’s nowhere among the worst cities for traffic. Well, the microwave’s buzzing and my chicken chili’s done. The dog’s pouting and hoping for a walk too, so signing off.

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About Maura Satchell, writer and artist

Novelist, artist, seeker. Curious to a fault, I rarely say no to an adventure and that gift has led me on some heart-stirring journeys. I regret nothing.
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