Beverly Hooks Impressionist Artist and Author

Impressionist Artist and Author

“Shades of Summer”

March 16th, 2012

Blogging memories ~ I hope you will join me as I travel through memories via my paintings of the British Isles; then to Europe and the United States. Enjoy the journey as I share from the Art Gallery of my website some of the hidden treasures along the way.

You will find the poem “Shades of Summer”, on page 77 of my new book “Come Walk With Me” ~ A Poetic Journal.

Shades of Summer

 “Shades of Summer”
St. Ives, Cornwall, England

Have you ever been to St. Ives, meandered down the cobbled streets, and stopped to rest on a quiet green? Perhaps you will be inspired to visit and see firsthand the beauty of St. Ives and the surrounding area.

Michael and I parked high upon a hill and looked out as the North Atlantic propelled its mighty swells breaking onto the shore below. It was a beautiful day, warm with gentle breezes puffing up from the scenic ocean below. Viewing from our divergent spot, the village of St. Ives cascading down the wandering street, we gingerly chose our steps among the cobbled stones flanked with exquisite homes that were hidden within the gardens along our passive stroll. There is an oasis of gardens, both private and public, where one can rest and find a haven away from the crowds.

Silence fell between us.  A magical fantasy of senses claimed the afternoon and I finally understood it was the light. The soft ambient light was spilling from the shadows, punctuated by the sun pouring selectively on its chosen subject. It was like a dream, when you experience the soft changing of colors, an easy breeze ruffling your hair and somewhere out there a single violin playing your favorite song. Obviously, this is a moment that lives in my mind.

As we continued our stroll, Michael pointed out a very large grey cat sunning on the stone step of a pavement shop. My animal lover husband, unable to just observe, reached to pet the biggest cat I’ve ever seen, only to be met by a hissing, fanged teeth mammal which seemed to stretch the entire six foot two inches of my startled husband. Trying to compose myself, I giggled all the way to the golden shore.  There we sat stuffing ourselves with fish and chips while watching the tide rush out, leaving the boats sitting on the smooth sandy tide pools. We walked the sea wall out to view the merging North Sea and browsed the beautiful village shops for prized memorabilia.

Mid-afternoon found us searching the halls of the celebrated Tate Gallery. The building itself rivals the modern sculpture found within its walls. The artist in me had to be forcibly removed from the gallery as Cornwall continued to fill our entire weekend.

St. Ives, a place I return to, if only in my dreams.

 

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