The last day it is so foggy that the sky and sea are one shape and one color. David does his demonstration under dripping pine trees. We're not quite sure if it's raining anyway. One of the guys holds an umbrella over David, but the drips off the umbrella seem to land right on his paper. David can paint anywhere and has chosen paper that dries quickly because of the wet weather. He comes up with a piece of art. Some of us take pictures of it. I set up shop out of my trunk today, which keeps my paper dry. At the critique, all the paintings look like a foggy day, but I guess the sun was shining where I was. I laugh to myself. I'll learn. Give me 40 years and I'll be as good as David.
There is a wonderful lunch prepared by David's wife, Kathy, back at the house. We are free to look around. I go looking at every painting in every room. Some are David's. The house is a big old Maine house. Simple, pleasing, but not like a magazine picture. Real. I discover a third floor with a bedroom I like. A white room with a quilt, paintings, small rugs, old painted furniture.
I meet friends of theirs from church and talk with the wife. She does substance abuse counseling and she tells me great stories. More email addresses exchanged. I notice that the other students have gone and I decide I must leave too, though I don't want to. I know these couples are old friends and David and Kathy's daughter has arrived too, so I'm gone.
The drive home is relaxing and my mind and heart are full. What a gift this week was. I am so thankful to God for this.
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