
Summer is here, it is right now. I think about time and how it swiftly moves, it's wings wafting carelessly over our heads without any desire to slow. We watch and can't help but stare, hoping with our hearts and minds that time would land one day on the porch, by the swing hanging there, ready for us to lounge in. But sadly, time wafts on, carrying on, lifted higher by breezes we cannot see and by winds we cannot feel. Time is the enemy of artists. We create and time goes by, we paint and time laughs at our efforts. We try again and again, but time changes everything, from our styles, to our supplies, to our subjects. Time molds us into artists that we never knew we could be. Time . . . what does it mean to you?