Well, I had a very relaxing few days in Chincoteague--what a beautiful place; my photos don't do it justice. Peter was working, so every day I'd just set out on my own, exploring the town (and shopping!) and going to Assateague to walk the trails and the beach by myself. The solitude was wonderful, refreshing.
But, I regret to report, I only attempted one little painting, of the view from the hotel deck, and it was awful! Yes, I know, I'm too hard on myself, my friends will protest, but it really was dreadful: tentative, weak. I left it behind in the hotel.
I've tried two little paintings since I've been home, with equally disastrous results. I'm anxious, trying too hard. Since falling off my nearly daily painting schedule I've lost some confidence--everything I attempt seems hamfisted to me.
Like my mother trying to walk again on her shattered ankle, it seems it's going to take a little rehabilitation to get back to where I left off.