It’s a calm day. Beautiful. Warm even, after a summer when it’s been much cooler than usual. It’s a day to go out, be on the water, in the water, relaxing. Or to do art, uninterrupted.

I think back on one of my mother’s favorite stories about her grandfather. It would be a day such as this. A day to treasure. He would contact all the family members and friends he knew; let them know a picnic was in order. Come! Get together, outside, play and have fun. He would organize someone to get a boat ready so that all that agreed could get on. And did all agree? No question. He was there to greet them and celebrate.

And then, when the boat was full, he would stand on the dock and wave them away! What did he want? The day to himself.

So, here I am. It’s so peaceful. And I am aware that some wonderful, extraordinarily special friends of mine are all gathered in Spain together. There they are even taking their time and their trouble to mount an art show where my art will be included. And here I stand. On the distant shore.

Lots happening in my life. But today: quiet. And art. And such thankfulness to those who jumped on the boat, (took the airplanes) and are having more than a picnic in Spain.