Plein Air Painting: Summer on the Parkway

Lately, I’ve been noticing how my mind doesn’t allow me to truly be free in my free time. Instead, I feel a sense of guilt whenever I allow myself to do something not strictly productive.

We’re conditioned to feel this way. Our culture drives us to see the greatest value in work and productivity, and so we take pride in overworking ourselves, in neglecting the aspects of our lives truly worthwhile. But it’s the moments of “nothing,” of aimless freedom - even of occasional boredom - that truly fuel our minds, bodies, and spirits.

I’ll be honest, despite this understanding, I still find it difficult to carve out these free moments for myself. This past week reminded me of the importance of it. After overworking myself for months, I got hit with a sickness that left me bed bound for four days. It was miserable at the time, but now that I’m fully rested and recovered, I can’t help but feel grateful for the lesson in the importance of self care. I’m working on carving out more time for myself to simply be.

I know that at first, I’ll still have to contend with that nagging little voice in my head, telling me what I really should be doing instead. But with time and practice, I know that voice will get smaller and quieter and my head will instead fill with the comforting quiet of stillness, of nature, and of winding, aimless thoughts - the way that it felt when I spent the whole day on this mountain, painting without pressure or expectation, quietly observing nature, and letting my thoughts wind and meander.

My husband, Joshua, and I drove out to one of our favorite mountain meadows, Doughton Park, on the Blue Ridge Parkway. We hiked to the top of a hill until we had a panoramic view of the surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains. Under the shadow of the meadow’s one tree, we set up a picnic and I sat down to paint. I had started this painting of the Linn Cove Viaduct elsewhere, but I wanted to finish the piece outside, free from any distractions but the buzz of the bees and the rustle of the trees.

“The Mountains Are Calling,” acrylic, 12” diameter

Joshua then got on his bike and biked back down the Blue Ridge Parkway. By the time he made it back to our picnic spot, I had finished my painting, and we were ready for snacks and drinks while we watched the sun begin to dip below the clouds at the horizon. It was the simplest day we had enjoyed in a while, and nowadays, the simplest joys are the sweetest.

I hope you, too, prioritize carving out space for yourself, and just as importantly, freeing your mind when you do.