Blog

Last winter was a tough one for me. After a difficult year, I was soooooo looking forward to a long-planned trip to Fiji and Australia with dear friends. Unfortunately, my husband and I had to cancel less than 24 hours before take-off. Just as we were zipping up our suitcases and carry-on bags, my cardiologist called at 7:00 pm and scared the bejesus out of me. Over the cold dreary months that followed, between medical appointments, I often sat looking out my kitchen window contemplating life, death, the future and the past. I stared out at the Salish Sea and the beautiful cove where we live and I told myself to count my blessings and focus on gratitude. Of course, there’s so much to be grateful for, and it helped to remind myself. However, what often buoyed my spirits and brought me a sense of peace was the sight of my neighbour’s small red rowboat. Darren’s father was a high school shop instructor and decades ago, for his retirement, his shop class students built and gifted him a sturdy little rowboat. Last summer Darren painted the well-used boat bright red and then stored it upside down on his dock for the winter and I noticed it every time I looked through my kitchen window. Through rain, sleet, snow, gloomy long winter days and sometimes gloomy thoughts, that rowboat glowed vibrant red; it seemed to me a small but mighty beacon in the darkness. Seeing it never failed to lift my spirits and make me smile. I am feeling and doing better now and am very grateful for that little red rowboat - I've included it in my new painting, Anchored and Tied. 24x24", acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas.