painters

Two of them. Not the kind that paint houses. Canvases. They don’t know each other and neither has met me, but we’re friends.

They’re Ocean readers – and so they know far more of my life than I of theirs.

A year ago I complained to one (lili) that I could not imagine her because I hadn’t a clue as to what she looked like. The next week I got in the mail a sketch she had done of herself.

Yesterday, the other (dande) sent me a couple of prints of his paintings. As a housewarming gift. Stunningly gorgeous.

None of my friends (the kind that I actually have met) paint canvases. Some dabble in photography; hey, the whole world now dabbles in photography – you practically can’t help it, every gadget you get has some pixel or other attached to it.

But lili and dande actually put paint to canvas and the results adorn galleries and great spaces.

It struck me how important these two have become in my days. Sometimes I write a post with one or the other in mind, though they don’t know it, nor is it entirely obvious, if they should be reading.

Their words – in comments and longer emails -- are songs to me, coming as they do from their artistic souls. I listen to them carefully, I think about what they have to say.

This post is for the two of you – lili and dande. With thanks.

(the photos are a study of one bee today, making her way through the flowers on my balcony)