Summertime and the living is not easy although its better than winter by a mile.It's my sinuses and the pollen today is at its highest this month somewhere around 210%. Drip, drip, drip and my nasal passages are like sandpaper. This is the start of today's outdoor painting trip. Breakfast, Thank God, is good. Picture perfect eggs, crisp hashbrowns and dry bacon..coffee so so...not bad Tim's turn to pay. I have an idea today of where we can go to paint. Tim wants to paint a creek. A creek, a lazy slow run with rivulets (water running through small pebbled creek beds). Actually, this is exactly what I had discovered a few days ago when my wife offered to take me out for a Sundae. We stopped and parked on the outskirts of town near the Coon Hunters Lodge. I said let's just sit on the rocks and eat our ice cream. A creek was running from last week's thunderstorms. I had to explore it. I have loved creeks from kidhood. They are the last remaining remnant of the primeval we have left in our Cro-Magnon brain. Yes, there's campfires but creeks are natural. They just happen because the land is not flat in spite of the glaciers that plowed Indiana thousands of years ago. So I made a mental note of the creek for Tim to paint the next time we were out.
Creeks are littered with stones and other interesting items dugout of the ground by the torrents when the creeks flood. They are storehouses for treasure...not the pirate kind but the kind that I loved when I was seven. I had a box that I hid my "finds" in and guarded them under my bed. And there was hell to pay if someone got into it. I still get a kick out of scouring the creek beds for interesting stuff.