Looking Back At The Sky

I started running again at Easter. It's hard work getting going again, but it soon becomes quite addictive. Truth be told it's hard work every time for the first three miles, and then I seem to find my rhythm. Talking to other people they seem to feel the same - first three miles are hard, and then you are okay. I've even managed to drag myself out after school several times each week, and as a consequence have lost a bit of weight and feel a lot more positive.
It's good to get back outside. It's good to see spring develop; it's the best time of the year. A friend once told me that spring makes it's way up the country at walking pace, and I absolutely love that idea. It once formed the basis of a very long story that I made up for Archie, who went through a stage of preferring us to make up stories for him, to reading them to him. This story featured a boy, who's name I forget, who escaped from the Sunnyside Home For Wayward Boys, and embarked on an adventure where he had to get to the very north of Scotland before spring got there. He met all manner of creatures and had lots of escapades on the way. I made up installments everyday for about a month, and boy was it hard work! I eventually passed the baton to Sara. As I recall I dropped it in her lap as we drove to France, "Your mum wants to tell you a story now" (-"Thanks, darling!").
Being outside more, running, has found me looking at the sky again. The Vale of York has big skies, as does anywhere flat, and some of them are amazing. It's little wonder that they feature so prominently in so many of my paintings..

Alne.

oil on canvas