Bicycles, mud and stories. Battle weary warriors of the Forests. Shining eyes. Shaking hands. Stories. Fading light. Railway line leading the last competitor home. Late nights in the cycle shops. Bicycles made ready for another day. Cuts. Bruises. Smiles. Garden Route 200. As a spectator only!

My painting of the Forest. A series of vertical lines falling down the large canvas in a drunken stagger. An article on Colour and Composition, notes that horizontal lines suggest peace and tranquility, while vertical lines inflect the painting with strength, courage and authority. The diagonal line of the pathway adding depth, reinforced by the yellow flowers.
The flowers within the forest walks have been a revelation. A profusion of red-orange aloes. Random purple and yellow blossoms, against a cascade of blue-grey foliage. Mineral Violet Light and Deep (Van Dyk No. 46 and 47) for the flower, together with an almost turquisegreen, Veronese Green (Van Dyk 67), from my magic box of paints. 
Cupboards changed. Lights ordered. Shower bits sorted. A breath, before the builders start to tear the apartment apart. Trees down to make way for the garage. Paving removed and a protective screen erected around the building site. Not the happiest of characters, our tenant, after being given notice that we will not renew the studio lease at the end of September.
Surviving Picaso, an intriguing movie about the life of Pablo Picaso, and the women who made him. Very little about his painting, although the transition of a work from portrait into a flower was amazing. His ceramic work, unexpected.
Kingklip with butter-bean, tomato and pea fricassee, muscles and pine-nut lemon oil lunch at Oubaai. Tasteful and serene on a day full of rain.
Yellow morning skies, orange sunsets. Slowly unfolding surf. Gentle curves along the beach. Silhouettes and shadows. Mist rising from the lagoon. Sand and wet dog. Days merging.