Going Home ... memories of open fields

There is something about landscapes with horizons that seem endless; endless in hope and possibility, and in freedom.

I refer to the process of painting these as “resting in the landscape”. 

I have wonderful childhood memories of long solitary outrides on horseback alone and content, with the lands as much stretched before me as was hope.  In a sense there is a longing for these days, but not a melancholy.  Hope persists and freedom if not in open fields, is still within spirit. 

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