The Charmer, John William Waterhouse

21,572, A Lamentation of Swans. Took me a while to settle down to work on Sunday.  The lure of the sun-gilded day outside nearly undid my determination to work on A Lamentation of Swans. I took Neo up to the bluff overlooking the beach–a good compromise, but I only managed a couple hundred words before the sunshine glittering on the sea lured me into idleness. I packed up, strolled home, dropped off Neo, got my wallet and headed out again to lunch at Claire’s and a visit to the Long Beach Museum.

I had lunch on the patio overlooking the water. The ocean reflected the sky’s placid blue, the palm fronds were shiny with sunlight, and I was glad I’d worn my wide-brimmed straw hat ‘cause all the umbrella tables were occupied and the sun was hot on what little of me it could reach.

After finishing off every leafy scrap of my Cobb Salad, I strolled next door to the Long Beach Museum and browsed the California, Seen: Landscapes of a Changing California, 1930 to 1970 exhibit of the striking and luminous watercolors by regional artists of arroyos and farm houses, of Malibu in the 1940s, of dusty roads in provincial Chino and Pomona, of fishermen, farm laborers, bridge-builders, of San Pedro’s coast, and Salinas, and oak-studded valleys and canyons. I had lots of work to do on A Lamentation of Swans, but I felt only mildly guilty. I’d have the evening hours afterall.


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