The paints come out

    The leaves are dropping and Don is busy circling the yard on his mower picking up the leaves with his leaf rake. It looks great till the breeze comes by and the trees drop the next batch. I don't think Don minds that much since he enjoys being outside. If he isn't on the mower he is out in his woods cutting, splitting or stacking his fire wood for next winter. He comes in for coffee and a cookie at 10, in for lunch at noon and back in at about 3pm, like going to a job. No wonder he is so fit.
    I have my own routine which keeps me busy too. I like order and try hard to keep things neat. I found out years ago that if my house is a mess it makes me feel tired and frustrated. Frustrated because when you need to find something it never is where it should be and that takes more time and energy. As you age you find you need to keep better records and to not count on your memory. I have what I call my "book of records" it is a note book with many tabs all labeled, example "insurance" and in it is the insurance info including dates of payments due, address and telephone numbers, policy numbers etc. I also have a section labeled "Paint" and in it is the paint records for each room and a sample of the paint color. Good records make for fewer mistakes.
    Speaking of paint I have taken up my brushes again and have turned my extra bedroom downstairs into my studio. Don has made me another easel and I have bought more oils and so I have begun. Painting for me is a time where I become lost to the world. I have no sense of time, I'm in my own world and it is good that I have to stop to make meals for Don or I would forget to eat. All the fall leaves have inspired me, I paint the picture in my mind first often as I lay in bed at night then I try to put that picture on canvas. I may not be any famous painter and that's okay it is the act of doing it that feeds my inner soul. I wonder if someone way back in my family tree was also someone who liked to paint, did I inherit a painting gene, perhaps that person had green eyes like me, I wonder since no one of all the family tree information had green eyes. Maybe there was a lady on The Isle of Man with green eyes painting pictures of the Irish landscape many years ago. I wonder!