Remember and Inspire.

One of my most prized childhood memories is that of time alone with my dad. With ten siblings, you’d think there would be a lot of competition for that privilege. There wasn’t and I don’t entirely know why. It didn't matter whether he was in the garden, the greenhouse, or going fishing. I had some sort of radar for that last. Sometimes I would hear him stir in the wee hours and I’d get up because I just knew I’d heard the latch of the tackle box and Mama stirring in the kitchen as she packed food for him. I relished those rare occasions when they gave me permission to tag along at 3am, no matter that I inevitably fell asleep on the way. We would arrive in pitch black, find the perfect spot on the river bank, and settle down with a line in the water.

“Shhh. Listen,” Dad would whisper. “Hear that? That’s a song sparrow. Oh, there’s a mourning dove.”

We'd sit there through the pre-dawn and the sunrise, listening as the first lone 'pee-wheet' began. The orchestra of birdsong built and built until it nearly exploded above us and all around us as the sun made its full appearance.

So why do I share this intimate memory with you on an artist's blog? It’s because of what was NOT there. There were no cell phone notification pings, no news channel on, no anxious human clamor. Just birdsong. There’s something so pure, so predictable, and so settling about that. Now there's a bit of stress relief  you can count on anytime you need it.

So tomorrow morning, as early as you can manage it, silence your smart-phone and take a cup of coffee with you out onto the porch to enjoy the pre-dawn symphony.

I share this because I hope that that which inspires me to paint might bring you pleasure also.

Do you have a favorite memory that continues to inspire you? Please share it here in the comments below. I'd love to hear it.