Tag Archives: #yellow

Day 9 Of February’s 30

Day 9, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.
Day 9, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.

Talent is like a little seed; when nurtured, it will flourish.
Matshona

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
Marcel Proust

The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love,
they will bloom like flowers.
Thich Nhat Hanh

Day 8, February 2022

Day 8, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.
Day 8, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.

You belong among the wildflowers.
You belong in a boat out at sea.
You belong with your love on your arm.
You belong somewhere you feel free.
Tom Petty

Wildflowers are the loveliest of all
because they grow in uncultivated soil,
in those hard, rugged places where
no one expects them to flourish.
Micheline Ryckman.

May your life be like a wildflower,
growing freely in the beauty and joy of each day.
Native American Proverb

February 2022 30-Day Creative Gathering, Day 7

Day 7, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.
Day 7, 8 x 8 watercolor on Fabriano paper. © 2022 Sheila Delgado.

This is day seven, number two. The first one I painted was a dud. A semi-dud. It might see the light of day if I need to catch up, or if I feel the need for a nap over painting.

I have made silly mistakes in most of my paintings this week. Mostly, it comes down to being too repetitive. Not changing things up. But I realize, part of it is that I am getting lost in the moment. The process. The doing. That’s a good thing.

Here too, mistakes. Just too many. Too many blooms. Too many big splatters. Too many. Haha. But week one is done. I had fun. And there is always tomorrow.

A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it.
It just blooms.
Zen Shin

Raise your words, not voice.
It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
Rumi

If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose,
spring would lose its loveliness.
Therese of Lisieux