8x16 acrylic on canvas, in floater frame
 
For this painting, I really liked the title "Tears and a 3-Mile Hike."
 
For starters, it follows the naming convention of Chuck Lorre, who directs some of my favorite TV shows. But mostly, I like it because it tells a story, or at least hints at one. In this case, it's the story of my unpreparedness for our 2018 Iceland trip. I knew way in advance that this plane existed and I knew I wanted to see it, photograph it, and paint it. What I didn't know is that we'd get there late evening on Day 2 (when I was still jet lagged), that I'd be VERY HANGRY...and that it would be a 3-mile hike out there over shifty black sand. When I stood at the sign for this plane in the parking lot showing the hike, I burst into tears.

I felt really dumb for not having planned better and known about the hike in advance.

I felt dumb for not having bought more snacks. (I remember being in a depressed fugue in the grocery store a day earlier. I was overwhelmed by the foreign language and trying to decide what food to bring for the week. I didn't do a good job shopping.)

I was tired and fuzzy-brained from jet lag.

Mostly I was bummed and feeling a little hopeless, because arriving in beautiful Iceland Walter Mitty-style hadn't taken away my depression and anxiety and turned me into the happy-go-lucky little elf I wanted to be.

Luckily, we decided to hike it anyway. After all, in the grand scheme of things, we were so close! The campground could wait. And I'm SO glad we did. (I sniffled for the first half mile or so, and then the endorphins propped me up.) The view back to the mountains from the beach was breathtaking. The light was that buttery July-in-Iceland tone, a whitish bluish yellow, mostly obscured by clouds. And the plane was dilapidated and awesome. We took so many pictures and I smiled a lot.

I don't remember if I told this whole story on my Instagram at the time, probably not, but there it is.
 
The whole reality.
 
The tears, and then the treasure at the end of a 3-mile hike.