By Carrie Jacobson
August. It hardly seems possible, but the proof is on the countertop by the sink. Tomatoes, warm from the sun. Zucchini and summer squash, the beginning of the onslaught, testing my culinary creativity. Bowls of blackberries, piles of cucumbers and the promise of more melons than anyone can eat.
Here in Virginia, the crape myrtles (yes, that’s spelled right) are in the middle of their 100 days of pink and fuschia blooms. Gold has started to appear at the tips of the salt marsh grasses. Evening draws into itself earlier, shortening that long, lovely dusk that marks our summer evenings. And in the morning, dawn is noticeably later.
This painting shows my art changing along with the seasons, I think, as I strive to understand more clearly what works, and why. As the seasons turn for all of us, and bring us with them, I paint to reach my own heart, my own soul, my own spirit. And yours.