It’s been a great year for rhododendrons here where I live in western Pennsylvania.
These bushes are right outside my kitchen window, so I get to enjoy these glorious blooms over the course of two weeks or so every spring.
One morning in late May, as I was making my coffee and gazing out the window, I was so overwhelmed by the morning light glowing on the pink-y purple rhododendron blossoms that I grabbed my nature journal, a pen, and a pencil, and dashed outside in my pajamas to draw them.
I decided to draw the three stages of flowering: bud, partially opened flower, and full bloom. I started by marking off a border and allocating space for a title then began drawing one of the fully opened flowers. It would be in the foreground of my sketch, so it made sense to start with that.
Next came a partially opened bud…
and finally a bud that was still tightly closed.
I let a few of the rhododendron leaves spill over the border. I wish I had thought to have one or two more extending down across the bottom border, but I was so absorbed in drawing the complex rhododendron blossom that it slipped my mind.
I started adding watercolor to my drawing that morning when the light was just perfect, but then, as the sun moved higher in the sky, shadows fell across the plants so I moved inside. It took me another week to finish the painting and add the lettering, then a couple more days to get around to scanning the sketch and writing this post. I don’t have much time to paint or write these days. We’re in the midst of cleaning, painting (not the fun kind!), window washing, and purging in preparation for listing our house this coming week. (Can I just say how thoroughly sick of cleaning I am?!)
My studio calls to me, but for now I have to content myself with a few stolen moments now and then. But I know this, too, shall pass. The end is in sight. And at least I can still manage to squeeze in short sessions with my sketchbook here and there. And that’s helping me to deal with everything else that’s going on right now.
Everything seems touched by a bittersweet feeling of “this is the last time I’ll…” but it’s also a time of new beginnings and lots to look forward to. It looks like we’ll probably be here into August, so I still have one last beautiful summer to enjoy here at Summerhill.
Wish us luck with the sale!
6 Comments
Thank you Leslie for sharing one of your “stolen moments” with us. Your art is beautiful as always. We recently downsized, and yes it is a lot of work, but definitely worth it. Thank you again for sharing your time and talent with us.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I’m scrubbing floors and washing windows – it’ll be worth it, and the end is in sight!
I think you are very amazing to find even a few minutes “in the midst of…” with all you have to do. The flowers you painted are beautiful! My regret is that I never made it out for a workshop to your lovely home with all the hills and fields surrounding it. Well, enjoy all the “last times”. Then onto new “first time” lovely moments.
I wish, too, that you had been able to come to Summerhill when I was doing classes and retreats. Those were wonderful times. Let’s hope we can meet on one of my workshop tours sometime instead.
I am ashamed that my owe moving houses has kept my sketching and painting at ground zero. Only you can do all that’s involved with a move and make such beautiful paintings! I’m so thankful to have been able to attend one of your retreats and I’m getting my sketch book out now!
I NEED to paint once in awhile to stay sane throughout this whole process. It’s the only way I can distance myself from crazy contractors, endless work, and to-do lists that are never done. I hope you’re getting settled in to your new place and enjoying starting fresh. Miss you!