My favorite French impressionist is Claude Monet. I think I even mentioned that in the post I did about the water lilies. I believed I talked about how his paintings were always the type that made you want to step inside. A place you'd want to be. There are times when I can remember being in a place that felt like I was inside a Monet. I remember them like snapshots or framed pieces only with out the people with umbrellas. I remember taking a trip to New Orleans with Chris and Todd a long time ago. One day of the trip we went outside of the city to Covington. There's some famous author buried in an abbey out there. I forget who, someone Todd admired. The day was drizzely and all the green was intensified by the rain and wet. I remember being fascinated by the moss hanging from the trees. It was such a southern cliche, but so beautiful. The abbey was quiet except for the chapel. They were doing repair work on the organ that day and there would be occasional bursts of music, but you could only hear it if you were sitting in the chapel. We spent most of our time there wandering the cemetery. After we found the headstone of the author, we went to the Abita Brewery and sampled beers. It was my favorite day of that trip. When I think back on that day it all seems so slow and green and calm. A Monet.
This could be why this has always been my favorite time of the year. Spring rains mixed with the burst colors from the redbuds, pears and tulips. Everything seems so much. The purples too purple. The greens too green. Too fresh and bright to be true. They can't possibly be real and therefore they must be a Monet.
Happy Love Thursday.