Thursday, September 27, 2012
Click to Purchase When I was a kid, a neighbor had a pomegranate bush in their back yard. I would climb their side fence and crouching at the top of the fence, work my way to the back to "acquire" one for myself. (As if my feet actually in their backyard would get me caught!) I think they knew I did this, but they didn't care. The mother painted oils in her family room and the father made anything out of wood, including guitars and later, an easel for me. Funny how a piece of fruit conjures up so many good memories. The first time painting them, it's a lot like painting pears or gala apples...lots of color variations.