Recently, while riding my bike in the morning, vivid emotions and memories flooded over me. Memories from my painting days in Provence, France. Every morning, I would wake up early and start my walk to the studio. I listened to the hustle and bustle of traffic: honking cars, screeching brakes, swishing of buses lowering and rising. The world started its day. The smells are what I remember most; the mixture of diesel with the sweet scents of jasmine and juniper as well as roses and other floral scents. As I got closer to the studio, the sounds became more faint and the sweet smells became more vivid. I would become very excited. Would I find myself in the fields looking at Mt. St. Victoire or country homes, or walk amongst flower fields that I would decide I had to stop and paint. Finally, I would make it to the studio and the aromas switched to herbaceous tones of thyme, rosemary and sage mixed with oil mediums and paints. I always had a cup of rosemary tea made with a large fresh cut sprig steeped in hot water. This I loved. It was so beautiful and kept my mind free and vibrant. Then, my art day would begin. After finding the place to paint, I would get lost in my surroundings; transcending from a practical place to an emotional and instinctive one. By the end of the day I would have completed a painting. Another day in my journal of art.
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