Beautiful Beast

I arrived at the Viewpoint a little after noon and painted till it was almost dark out. Once dusk set in, I could see certain spatial relationships that had been obscured by all the colors when it was lighter. I didn't finish the painting, but I should be able to get it done in the next day or two. It was like wrestling a beast. The Viewpoint is a beast--I've thought that many times. Beautiful--but a beast.

It kept on trying to rain. I didn't want my easel to get wet--or the painting--so I packed them into my car. Of course, the minute I got everything loaded into the car, the rain stopped. I waited a few minutes, then pulled it all out and started painting again--only for the rain to start up again. I went through this four times, if I remember right. I asked two different parties for their opinions on whether it was really going to rain. One young woman said no, maybe there would be a few more drops, but that it wouldn't really rain. But she was making out with a guy under the laurel tree most of the time, and I figured this might be putting a positive spin on her sense of reality. I asked a jogger, who smiled and said something like "nobody really knows." I finally called the Seattle Public Library to ask for the weather report and the information specialist I spoke with told me the weather report said it was going to rain in the afternoon. But I saw a little patch of blue in the distance, that seemed to be moving my way, and, feeling no rain for a few minutes, I got my easel and the painting out of the car again. There was no more rain till darkness set in.