Sunrise Over Beeler's

The shade of Beeler's house protected me from the blinding heat of the morning sun. I race at times like these to get the paint to the paper. In a moment serenity will turn to struggle. I will shift my chair and paints a foot at a time to follow the edge of cool shelter, trading point of view for moisture, then hold out a bit longer in the blistering glare as it flash dries my watercolors on the page in seconds. Now the the window is closed. Hopefully I have enough down to finish by memory, by instinct.

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