Gentle breezes

"Field of flowers" by Hilary J England 8" x 10" oil on canvas

I am looking forward to going back to the beach...it's definitely time to get some ocean refreshment!  I want Noelle to come with me, but she is hesitant to leave her friends (typical teen), but I have her in mind for this specific trip.  I must admit, I have some ideas in my head for painting her at the beach, actually that is truly the motive for the trip, besides my need for the water.  So, I must set up my plan to convince her...it's like setting a plan for hunting a deer, lol.  Make sure I prod her in one direction, but not too strongly, if I see her going in another direction, head her off at the pass...

Montreal is coming very soon, and I must get the paintings shipped.  Then, my New York exhibition, my Paris exhibition, the trip to Florence, and the holidays.  This year seems to be slipping by at an unprecedented rate...I don't know where the time goes.  It gives me nightmares sometimes, how fast life is going by.  If I had no faith, it would be an idea that depressed me into catatonia...

Last night, when I was reading, I got a very unusual phone call...a real "blast from the past"---25 years in the past!  An old school and neighborhood chum, who found my number on Facebook, and found we were not living too far from each other now.  He was actually very good friends with my brother, and was looking to get together with us all and have a barbeque.  I felt such nostalgia as I talked to him, my mind vaulted back to rough and tumble days at the dirty beaches of Staten Island, frolicking in the murky waters, yelling and screaming and running and fighting.

 I remembered he lived on a little cliff by the beach, with a path that led to the front of his house.  The house next door had an electric fence for their pet cow, and we were obsessed with this fence--we would form a chain, and dare each other to be the one to grab the fence...the theory behind it was that the guy on the end would get it the worst, but it hurt like hell just the same no matter where you were in the pecking order.  Michael Florio was the boy who lived in the house with the electric fence.  He died in 1990, decapitated in a car accident on the highway, on his way back to his college dorm at SUNY Binghamton.  All these years later, all this life went by, and he is still 19....

My old friend was a first responder to the 9/11 disaster, and now suffers from pulmonary fibrosis of his lungs as a result.  I felt sad to hear how this happened to him, in his attempt to do his duty for his community and his countrymen.  We made plans to get together for a barbeque in the next few weeks, and we could catch up and reminisce. 

So, the next few days should be busy as usual.  I am nearing the end of my second semester in University, and we have a "full-boat" with guests in the B&B.  The ghost stayed away last night and let me get a good night's rest, thank goodness!  I woke up so refreshed this morning, I didn't want to get out of bed...or, maybe it was the five miles I did in the gym yesterday...who knows. 

I leave you with this little painting I did of a beautiful field of wildflowers out in the little remote area of our "neighborhood."