Saturday, September 26, 2009

The End of a Good Day

This morning I woke up dreaming about my next art quilt project. I was thinking about how I might use the discharge paste that I ordered when I glanced at my 'winning' wall hanging which is temporarily hanging on my bedroom wall. That little crtitical voice crept into my head and I wondered what the judges saw in it. The voice softly whined, "Perhaps you're wasting your time". I heard and answered back. No, I find beauty in art; it touches my soul; it fulfils me. Then a funny thing happened. I went and made myself a cup of tea, took it back to bed and flipped open the book Journal Spilling by Diana Trout. I read a few pages with some basic watercolor techniques, when I spied an article called Taming the Critic. It really hit home! I only read a few more pages, but the exercises on getting to know your critic are interesting and I am anxious to try them. I think I will get a lot out of this book. I just have to wait until next weekend when I go to Fredericton to get some gesso.

Since today was the only day this weekend that was supposed to be sunny my husband and I decided to go to the Acadien Peninsula, bike part of the trail into Caraquet, and have lunch at Les Graines Folies where I also purchased four loaves of artisan bread to put in my freezer. (We managed to get 3 loaves in my side bags and 1 loaf in my husbands.) It was a round trip of 22 kms, pleasant enough once you got going, but a little cold in the wind along the shore, and thus too cold to do any sketching. I did stop and take a few pictures of the trail and as you can see, what is so nice about this section of the NB Trail is that it is paved. The leaves are still turning, so the fall colors are not at hteir peak, but it was still beautiful.
We even stopped at Grand Anse beach on tha way home where we picked a handful of sea glass. I just can't resist picking it up even though I'll never use it all! I'm thinking of having a couple of necklaces made for Christmas gifts. Maybe I'll do one for me too.

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