Q & A: Must There Be Shadows? Yes.

The day is clear and sunny. I greet the birds' morning song with a smile. Hopes, desires are forming and their new growth is pushing up from the warm brown soil.

In my mind I see my garden, a landscape which I imagine painting.

Tall bare trees, their branches stretched out to receive the sun's warmth, bear tiny leaf buds that seem to be swelling visibly almost ready to burst forth with new leaves.

The willow tree, which I mourned when it fell in a storm last fall, is absent, however, a careful scrutiny of the neighborhood reveals other willows. Their vibrant yellow switches sweep the ground, and will soon be covered in spring's first yellow-green leaves.

My mind's eye landscape contains a mature White Pine, a Shagbark Hickory which is shedding bark true to its name, and a large Lilac shrub. Clumped around and between these three are yellow and purple crocuses in bloom, large swathes of daffodils whose green leaves rise like swords from the earth. Beneath the Pine the earth is thick with rust-colored needles, and elsewhere in the woodland garden the mulch is provided by layers of oak leaves I scavenged last fall from my parent's yard across town.

The woodland bed is pleasant, restful. A flagstone path leads into the bed and ends at a rectangle of old street bricks where a cedar bench invites a time of reflection. Nearby a crocheted hammock is ready for an afternoon nap as the breeze sways it, or perhaps to serve as a comfortable cozy for delving into a book.

As I paint the scene in my mind, I am reminded that each component will appear to be floating, or cartoonish if I neglect to anchor it in place with a shadow, a low-light. This gives each object substance, grounding.

My life is no different. I am open, bare now, but ready to burst with new life, new growth as drawn out by the Son's warmth. I feel buoyant, bright and fresh as the new leaves that are as yet uneaten by bugs or torn by stray stems tossed in the wind.

I open myself to Him, like the crocuses do each day to the sun.

Like my painting, the objects in my life: work, home, family, friends, people I encounter are anchored to reality by shadows. Some small sadnesses, subtle as the shadow of a crocus. Some substantial griefs, sorrows, burdens like the shadows which anchor the Pine or Hickory trees.

I would there were no darkness and I could paint my world without it, however, I realize that the result would be cartoonish, flat, unreal.

Depth, warmth, life come with the shadows and low-lights as well as the sunshine and highlights.