Nothing the matter with this particular Sunday. The day has been altogether pleasant, overcast, warm and breezy. A perfect screen porch day. Yet I am feeling melancholy. Unexpectedly. For several years, I haven't gotten those late Sunday afternoon blues-heading-into-Monday feelings. Why did it hit today? I picked up The New York Times Week in Review section and at the bottom the editorial column are three paragraphs called 'Sunday Evening With Monday to Come'. It's a piece about the melancholy of early Sunday evening. As the Times says, "Sunday evening really feels different than a Tuesday evening."
"And yet a certain wistfulness always steals over Sunday evening. You can almost feel the people out ton the streets - walking dogs, strolling home from dinner, running along the river - trying to make twilight last a little long Monday is gathering and they can feel it....We go home, go to bed and turn out the light, knowing that Monday will come at its own speed and that we'll wake up already racing." Sounds accurate to me.
Earl worked on several watercolors this afternoon, but he was also packing up his brushes and canvases for the move to his new studio. That story is worth a blog post all its own, but I'll give a few details. We are both excited about his new place on the second floor of Art Supply on Main St., where he will have space not only to paint, but space to entertain and invite folks to see his work. He was on a waiting list for the next opening, but when it came, there was also an unexpected opening for a studio with north light, a kitchenette, bathroom and a walk-in closet for storing paintings. Later this week, the concrete floor will be painted a deep green. Earl will paint parts of walls mustard yellow and terra cotta. He will have a very good time with this 'room of his own'. I tell him that now he'll have three spaces in which to hang his hat: his place in Tomball, my house and his new and spacious studio. What's not to like about this?
Needless to say, I am happy to be reclaiming my studio after almost a year of 'sharing'. When my work for the new Houston Permitting Center is finished in late June, that studio of mine will be waiting for me to get in there and make something.
Today was such a lazy sort of day. Earl and I had a late lunch on the porch. Lots of vegetables with slices of leftover chicken. Two large artichokes covered with olive oil, basil and garlic. Newspapers spread all over the chairs, both our laptops out. Even yarn and a crochet hook.The porch is the place in which to spend time both day and night. And we do.
I did do something on this laid back day. Before lunch, I painted the dead tree near the corner of the porch, all except its tallest branches. Moises will have to paint those. I've been contemplating painting this tree for months. Just days ago, I bought three quarts of house paint for the job. Tomato red, hot pink and violet.
After the initial paint goes on, I may add some pointillist dots. I may wrap parts of branches with strips of bias brocade or velvet. Maybe I'll cover portions of the tree with gold glitter. Maybe I'll rest plates between branches and use them for food feeders. I may add blue wine bottles, votive candles in cast iron holders and just about whatever else looks like it belongs among the branches.
Moises and I scrapped off loose bark a week ago, in preparation for painting the tree white with Kilz. We found tiny worms eating away under the loose bark. I am sure they killed it a year ago. When I knew the tree was a goner, I decided to paint it and thought about bottle trees.
In a couple of months this painted tree will be surrounded with tall ginger and the brick wall will again be invisible. Unfortunately, the entire street can watch this transformation. I've already seen one car slow down to take it in. I will be so happy when the shrubbery I've planted in the ravine grows tall and taller. Can't happen soon enough.
The Queen of Peace Catholic Church's weekend festival gave us an afternoon of over-amplified conjunto music. I could dance to the music and I live a mile away. It almost drowns out the sounds of the freeway. Hope that everyone has had an especially good time. Imagine, a church festival during Lent? Is it because the weather is terrific this first weekend in April?
Rice Design Alliance and the Heights hosted their annual home tours this weekend and there was a design festival of sorts on the grounds of the Menil Museum. And then, of course, this is the last weekend of the semi-annual antiques fair at Round Top and Warrenton. Texans have to make good use of these precious balmy weekends before we are engulfed in the humid hotness of May through October.
Earl left about 4:00, heading back for his week of teaching in Tomball. Earlier than usual. Seemed to be the mood of the day.
Back to melancholy. It is not an altogether bad feeling. It is uncomfortable. Would a 45 minute walk in the neighborhood produce enough endorphins to block this quiet pensive time? Worth a try. The sun is slowly fading in the western sky. The Queen of Peace parishioners are still dancing. At least, I hope they are. Sounds like dancing music to me. Off for a restorative walk.