The Fifth Season
There's something exotic about late summer.
Abundance and decline flow in tandem.
A touch of melancholy saturates my view because sun-roasted greens fade to burnt umber browns.
It’s a landscape soaking in a job well done.
If you blink you might just miss it.
Nature mirrors what my body needs and wants.
Societal urgency tries to rob me of late summer's prosperity, begging for the latest hustle required.
But nature doesn’t rush. And somehow, it always wins.
Watercolor, 11” x “14
There's something exotic about late summer.
Abundance and decline flow in tandem.
A touch of melancholy saturates my view because sun-roasted greens fade to burnt umber browns.
It’s a landscape soaking in a job well done.
If you blink you might just miss it.
Nature mirrors what my body needs and wants.
Societal urgency tries to rob me of late summer's prosperity, begging for the latest hustle required.
But nature doesn’t rush. And somehow, it always wins.
Watercolor, 11” x “14
There's something exotic about late summer.
Abundance and decline flow in tandem.
A touch of melancholy saturates my view because sun-roasted greens fade to burnt umber browns.
It’s a landscape soaking in a job well done.
If you blink you might just miss it.
Nature mirrors what my body needs and wants.
Societal urgency tries to rob me of late summer's prosperity, begging for the latest hustle required.
But nature doesn’t rush. And somehow, it always wins.
Watercolor, 11” x “14