Our Summer Made Her Light Escape .........

Our Summer Made Her Light Escape ........... is the title of my latest piece, here it is, 

Our Summer Made Her Light Escape ..........

The title comes from a favourite poem by Emily Dickinson called '' As Imperceptibly As Grief  ", and mourns the passing of the summer as a metaphor for the loss of youth and the inevitability and acceptance of death. 

As imperceptibly as Grief

The Summer lapsed away

Too imperceptible at last

To seem like Perfidy

A Quietness distilled

As Twilight long begun

Or Nature spending with herself

Sequestered Afternoon

The Dusk drew earlier in

The Morning foreign shone

A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,

As Guest, that would be gone-

And thus, without a Wing

Or service of  a Keel

Our Summer made her light escape

Into the Beautiful

My painting came from a sketch done near the canal, and can be seen with the work in progress in my post "a Rosamunde Pilcher Afternoon", unusually for me it features a big sky and it is uncompromisingly romantic. Conjuring up those light, frivolous summer afternoons of youth, days spent on the beach, picnics in the fields, light and airy as frothy pink tulle without the hint of a care. It makes you wonder sometimes where all that lightness and giddiness went, aaaah! The good old days! 

My nostalgic musings weren't helped by a YouTube session with music from my past, wallowing in Simple Minds, Joy Division, Ultravox, Susi and the Banshees and a little less typical Marillion ....... actually just one song Kayleigh ........ and probably only one line  "Dancing in stilettos in the snow", that is the mood of my painting. 

Just as I admire artists who can portray emotions and mood with limited colours and strokes, I love people who can do the same with words, and there we have it...... an unusual combination Emily Dickinson and Marillion, both managed to convey the mood of my painting with only a few words and over a century apart. The feeling of yearning for a time past doesn't change whether in the 19th century or the 20th, times change; the emotion doesn't.