Blackberry Snow

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Pink tulips and blackberry snow. What? That makes no sense. Couplings again. Things juxtaposed. Plump fresh blackberries under a cascade of snow.Blackberries are a summer thing. I can feel the sun. and snow? That's what it looks like to me, a little snow covered village. Two seasons in one? It's chilly and rainy here in North Texas, but the hyacinths are in bloom. Maybe more snow tonight. My friend Patti can tell you I have been in a post flu funk. Restless. Frustrated . Ready to scream. Too in love with my warm heating pad. Then yesterday, Merisi posted these photos of Vienna. Cafe tables and umbrellas being set out, a woman in a red coat in front of a big blue door, and there, there in the window, a luscious full bouquet... of pink tulips....her words an invitation for all to come and enjoy. The tulips stopped me in my tracks. A not so forgotten joy emerged. Somehow everything seemed so much better.The light is shifting. The thaw is on. And paintings, like blossoms, want to burst into being. The wetlands are awakening. Calling me to come once again. Walk them. Paint them. I have been indoors, away, too long. So while I look at this tart full of plump blackberries, my thoughts are of Lance and his Jet Ranger, of Shea and the Pelican, of barrier islands and maybe the outer banks...hmm..need to get my boots on. Make a few calls. While I paint from memories vivid and bold...it is also time to risk it again. Pink tulips. Thanks Merisi for bringing me spring.