Placita
In town for a funeral of a dear professor and mentor. Stopped by the St John’s College campus to walk the halls once again, remembering times with my advisor here, and still feeling his presence. He died suddenly this spring, unexpectedly, at a young age. I miss him but I’m glad to be gathering with others who share this grief.
The campus is quiet, and even the bookstore and library are closed. Those are two of my favorite places.
So I sat down with my sketchbook and watercolors on the placita and listened to the waterfall and the hummingbirds, and watched the white clouds drift across the sky and over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. And I let myself indulge in some painting, a practice of slow attention, of being present here and now.
