Diana Wade



I find it soothing and exciting and humbling... all at the same time.

My inspiration. I find it in so many places. In the tranquil back yard of the home we've made in our Colorado retirement here in Loveland. In the Midwestern farm landscapes of my youth. In the shimmer of the Gulf of Mexico waters near our home of thirty years on Galveston Island in Texas.

My muse. Never just one. The pair of doves who arrive together each autumn morning and perch in our locust tree, preening and cooing to each other. Our fragile little old lady cat who looks longingly out the window, daydreaming of younger days and climbing trees and chasing squirrels. The first brilliantly shaded tulips that push their way through the cold earth to welcome spring at our doorstep.

My joy. The feel of a buttery smooth pastel as I let it glide across the soft grit of a fresh and toothsome surface... begging to be filled. The feel of a new number twelve sable watercolor brush, filled with juicy color, poised above the empty whiteness of 300# cold pressed paper... begging to be touched.

I do love it.


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