I sit here on my balcony, gazing at one of the most beautiful views one could ask to wake up to every morning. The smooth ripple of the ocean is telling me that this soothing breeze I’m loving is a south easterly one, as I watch the soft white caps move slowly, like lava, toward the west. The colour of the water is a deep, Prussian blue today, not its typical blend of luscious cobalt and turquoise. For me it’s simply the South Shore. I usually don’t think of it as the majestic Atlantic Ocean and the fact that we are just plopped somewhere out here in the middle of it.

I can pinpoint about three species of palm trees from my perch – Coconut, Fox and Palmetto – I would have to call on my husband to help me identify one or two more. He says there are about seven species around us. The palms are standing at ease with their fronds swaying in the breeze, content, gorgeous and unphased as if they are waving at the ripples on the water as they casually pass by or at me even…today I can’t decide. 

Just over the hedge, Leo, our friendly farmer plows his garden in preparation for what will surely be a farmer’s masterpiece, if last year is anything to go by. Leo’s garden will morph from its textured, brown tracks of rich soil into a bounteous kaleidoscope of colour, delivering to us healthy delights such as carrots, beets, kale, tomatoes, onions, corn, Bok choy, Swiss chard, broccoli, mustard greens, pumpkin, callaloo, peppers, celery, parsley, thyme bananas and paw paws! Now isn’t that a mouthful! It’s really too much for words. The garden is even bordered by Surinam cherry trees – which we call Bermuda cherry trees - which makes for the perfect little nibble for us in the neighbourhood, on our trek up that steep hill during cherry season. I might add that Leo has positively spoiled my us rotten over the years and has help feed us through this “blank-blank” pandemic. My husband has gifted Leo with many cups of his famous sumptuous soups and hearty fish sandwiches on his homemade bread in return. We’re all in this together!  God bless Leo! And God bless Charlie…my hubby!

Just above the garden our friend and neighbour, Rae, is out on her front lawn which offers an even more expansive view of that same Atlantic Ocean, putting her caramel-brown poodle, Finn, through his paces with a good old-fashioned dose of “Fetch”. Finn thinks it’s the best thing since sliced bread and just won’t quit, bounding for the little blue ball as if his supper depended on it. Rae seems happy for our five-minute distraction of neighbourly chit chat about the gorgeous day, the anticipated treats coming soon from Leo’s garden and our next pending wine and cheese or pizza get together. Finn waits impatiently for us to wrap up this rather rude, uninvited intrusion into his fun.

My view spans from the Azure blues of the South Shore to the rich greens of the pastoral scene before me, overlooking the somewhat rural condo development called ‘Southdown Farm’, with its country-style duplexes, then it sweeps upward through the dense “forest” of wild trees and shrubs with every shade of green imaginable. I play this juvenile game of ‘Eye Spy” with myself and try to identify as many trees as possible, clearly pointing out Fiddlewoods, Mexican Peppers, Casuarinas, Palmetto Palms, Norfolk Pines, Bermuda Cedars, Poincianas and Bay Grapes. I would have to call my husband to point out a few more 😊.

Then all of a sudden, right at the top of the hill, where the eyes meet the gorgeous, blue sky, the view is arrested! There she is – Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, firmly planted in all her stature and glory, like a beautiful, old faithful friend, guiding our way for several lifetimes, reliably putting everything and everyone at ease and assuredly welcoming every Bermudian home.

With all of that having been said, this is actually the part in my story where things might not make sense. I sit here on this balcony surrounded by all of this natural beauty and wonderment, yet I am still struggling to pick up a paint brush or even a pencil to continue with the piece of work I laid out for myself some weeks ago. After this robust description of my surroundings, where is the inspiration that should be pouring out of my fingertips? I’ve tried endless cups of tea, vino, prosecco, chocolate chip cookies, even a rum swizzle once or twice. Or maybe three times. I’ve tried bird watching, cloud gazing, I’ve spent painless hours waiting for whales to splash into view earlier in the year, but nothing seems to have lit that spark that I miss…the one that moves me to attack a piece of watercolour paper with the anticipation and excitement that it always has done – doing what comes naturally! Thank you bloody pandemic!

Then out of the bright blue ocean some familiar words come ringing through my head, clearly…my own words actually…words that I used to preach to my students during my teaching years…words now coming back to bite me, “Do a sketch a day. A sketch a day! Sketch!” That’s what I need to do! It’s free, painless, relaxing, non-judgmental! It just doesn’t bloody matter, just sketch! Sketch something…whatever!  A one-minute sketch, five minutes, one hour, just bloody do it! Yaaayyy! Memories of countless sketches I’ve done on countless trips to fascinating and ordinary places start to flood my brain and my heart. Sketching is missing from life and so is travel damn it! So today I begin…again! Here’s to “A Sketch A Day”, maybe with a little prosecco on the side. I hope this helps someone, it has surely helped me.

Hugs.