When Spring comes to the mountains, I play Aaron Copeland’s Appalachian Spring in my car, and weep with the beauty of the world. Something happens in Spring, and just to bear witness to it is enough, let alone to feel that rising energy in your body- your bones and your heart and your skin all part of the symphonic richness of the forest and mountain.
This pastel began on one such dav, though not in the car. Rather I took my supplies on my daily jaunt up the ridge behind my home. There the ferns were unfurling and the myriad jewels of new leaf adorned the crowns of the trees.
In the East, the light rose. The world was drenched in the dew of Spring bliss, and I felt myself a part of it all, part of the blossoming forest.
