It's a bit quiet out. The only thing moving is tumbleweed. Inside is a different matter; it is warm and busy. I enjoy winter's days like this, ensconced cosily with lots to be getting on with. Many people are getting back to painting routines now after the festivities, life clicking back into place. We still feel a bit out of kilter after setting up the new place, but are getting back into the throws of good, honest work. I have picked up the paintbrushes and Mike's back to the virtual grindstone. The craft side of my work is now starting to pad out the smaller areas here, but I think it will be a fortnight before I can start on canvas again. There was also the strange matter of my index finger suddenly developing an independent will of it's own, and pressing a button that ordered some beautiful silks. Don't you just hate it when that happens?
There's nothing for it I suppose... I am just going to have to paint all that too!