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| Lotus at Mattawoman Creek, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." SOLD |
It was a beautiful morning, still cool, when we rigged the double kayak up on my car and drove down to Indian Head to the boat ramp at Mattingly Park. I had brought my Guerilla painter box and canvas supply bag to work on a small oil painting, and my camera. Linda took her watercolors, a sketchpad and camera. With all this gear, extra water and our lunches, it was a wee bit crowded in the kayak. We lathered on sunscreen and bug spray, and started paddling with our stuff wedged between our legs.
The tide was high and allowed us to paddle into a shallow inlet to pull up close to the flowers. Wild rice was blooming in the marsh. We tied to a clump of Pickerel weed and proceeded to set up for painting. Once again the knob of my Guerilla box had come off--it must have fallen in the trunk of my car but I hadn't noticed it until it was time to set up. It took some maneuvering to balance the paint box on my thighs and wedge the lid at the bow, thus holding it open. More maneuvers to prop the solvent jar upright by one leg and the brush holder on the other side. At one point a couple of brushes fell overboard, but the handles being wood, they floated and I was able to retrieve them. Ah, the things one endures to paint in nature!
Linda wasn't having such a difficult time: watercolors and paper are much lighter and easier to deal with in the field, though I don't find the finished product as satisfying. It took about two hours to complete my small oil, at which point we were both burnt out and stiff from our cramped quarters. My thighs were dripping with sweat and had the imprint of the rubber feet from the paint box on them. The tide was starting to turn when we pulled out onto the main channel.
It was now time to cool off with an afternoon dip and lunch--we paddled a bit farther to another channel where there is a high gravel mound and pulled the kayak up on the shore. The water felt great, even if the hydrilla growing thickly underneath tickled. There were wild hibiscus plants with white and pink flowers around the shore and a huge roost of swallows on one tree. A pair of ospreys circled overhead. It's hard to believe a pristine marsh like this can be found only thirty miles from the hustle and bustle of downtown Washington, D.C.
All too soon it was time to start back, grungy and tired. Back at the house Patrise was cooking the baby-back ribs I'd brought for our dinner. We showered and rested a bit and then went to an evening performance of a colonial wedding enactment at National Colonial Farm. We enjoyed a delicious picnic before this fascinating look at what a wedding in the 1750's would have been like, with wonderful period costumes.
