the interruption

I had been in the studio for seven hours the other day, painting a self portrait.  I had taken a couple coffee breaks, but other than that, I had just been painting.  I was determined to get this portrait locked in, so I just grit my teeth and kept working.  And then there was a knock at the door- who was interrupting my work?  It was my good friend Dave, and he had his guitar case in hand.  I was so glad he randomly stopped by, I needed a break but hadn’t allowed myself to have one.  Then, another knock at the door.  It was another two friends with guitars, Dave Moore and Ronny, randomly stopping by to play music with me.  I pulled out my fiddle- or is it my violin?- and we began to play.  Two minutes later, Margaret showed up with Liam and Evan.  As we all played music, I saw my next painting.

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, ‘What is it?’
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Robert Frost