When I walk I look at the sky. Except when I look at the ground. I love the sky, but the ground offers up a myriad of treasures. In the fall the wind blows and the leaves rustle and begin to fall. As they lay on the ground they begin a transformation that is as exciting as it is beautiful.
I was mesmerized by this decaying grape leaf.
As I was painting I wondered if I was relating a little too personally to the leaf. No longer green and supple, it is still beautiful.
A new kind of beauty. A new role. No longer feeding the vine directly, but in returning to the soil, feeding the vines and trees and flowers. The scope has enlarged.
Isn't that as meaningful and beautiful?
Growing old is not for the faint of heart.