Looking left up the beach, I see a series of shadowed capes, with mist rising between them, a value painting. Looking right, I see rock in full sun, a color painting. I opt for the color.
Wind is strong and gusty, too strong for an umbrella. I point my easel into the sun and hope for the best, taking great care to read my values on the palette. My canvas box blows away and I chase it down. Brush cleaning paper unrolls from its tube. But the sky is clear and intense, and I am in joy to be here.