Dedicated to Wayne and Dolly. I know….. three months haven’t passed and I’m posting here again. What I needed was to clarify the purpose of each blog.
After discussing the ins and outs of blogs with X this morning, I realized I would miss the opportunity that Third Time Around gives me to share who I am and what I care about outside the periphery of actually painting and drawing. I would miss the journaling of odd but meaningful thoughts and experiences that I want to make note of. As I took my two-man tent of of it’s stuff sack for the first time in more than two decades, I remembered exactly why I started this blog and why I call it Third Time Around.
I turn 62 in October. I’m at the beginning of my third phase of life. With the experiences and knowledge I’ve acquired during my first two phases, I have most of the tools I need to make my third phase unbelievably wonderful ….. as long as I stay healthy. But there’s no time to waste. I have to start doing all those things I told myself I wanted to do when I grew up. Some of those things I no longer care about and I’ve crossed them off the list. I’m finding ways to do the things remaining on the list as well as constant additions to the list. One is taking workshops with instructors whose work I respect and admire. Another is wilderness painting.
I’m registered for Susan Abbott’s workshop at her Vermont Studio in early August. I’d rather take two workshops and camp in a tent than take one workshop and stay in a hotel or B&B. So that’s what I’m doing. Camping in August will be a test run for camping at Mount Diablo in California at the end of September.
Why is this post dedicated to Wayne and Dolly? Because this is the tent I bought so that I could go with them to the Brandywine Fiddle Festival more than thirty years ago. The moon was full, the fiddlers played all night long sipping moonshine and dancing with a feverish energy I’ve never again witnessed. I felt alive …. incredibly alive. I was thirty years old and entering into my second phase of life.
It’s as if this tent waited for me to be ready to invent myself yet again. There are no holes in it and it doesn’t smell nasty. I’m looking forward to get reacquainted.