|Strawberries - 1905|
|Fruits of the Midi - 1881|
Tomorrow, February 25th, marks the day Pierre-Auguste Renoir was born. I turned to Renoir in my thinking about the seasons for the last two weeks - I find myself in need of a little sunshine, a little color to get me through the final month of Seattle's winter. When he wasn't painting lovely people dappled with light at luncheon parties, Renoir painted beautiful still lifes, and I offer up two of them this week as sustenance for anyone who wants to taste the summer colors of these paintings. They're about as far from a gray sky as you can get. To add to the feast, here is a lovely poem that shines yellow - it's by a poet new to me, Rachel Contreni Flynn (follow that link to read a little bit about her):
|by Rachel Contreni Flynn|
If light pours like water into the kitchen where I sway with my tired children, if the rug beneath us is woven with tough flowers, and the yellow bowl on the table rests with the sweet heft of fruit, the sun-warmed plums, if my body curves over the babies, and if I am singing, then loneliness has lost its shape, and this quiet is only quiet.
|Renoir painting in his garden - paintbrush is tied to his arthritic hand.|