Well?
I need ideas for a painting.
Dogwood trees.
Flowers. Specifically, impatiens. It was pounded into my by teenage and young adult years spent working in the Garden department at Home Depot.
…that first warm breeze, but you can’t paint that. When I was in school a few years back our art teacher took us outside one spring day to draw close ups of the buds on the trees. I drew a twig abaout 4 - 5 inches long. It came out pretty nice.
The smell of dirt.
All good stuff so far.
Can’t paint a warm breeze? That sounds like a dare to me. All I can think of at the moment is sheets on a clothesline, though.
Going out to prune the roses.
Mountain Laurel with lavender blue colored blooms that reek of Grape Nehi. Loropetalum covered with a profusion of small, pink bursts. Bright green leaves and tiny white flowers on the Pyracantha. New buds on the trees and shoots emerging from the beds. Great big bumblebees going from flower to flower and hummingbirds chasing off any competition. Pine tree pollen covering everything with a pale yellow haze.
The people selling flowers on the street in downtown Boston or in the Subway stations on the red line…when they start to sell tulips, spring is coming…
Alternately, Robin’s building their nests in the trees (or on the eaves of houses) in the midwest.
…showing a little more skin.
Thawing frozen mud. Or, you could always go with cherry blossoms.
Hooke’s Law.
Daffodills and bumblebees.
Spring peepers . Paint a male clinging to a reed with his throat-sac inflated, making his whistling call which means (roughly translated) “pick me, pick me!”.
Pussywillows. Around here I remember them blooming first when I was a kid.
That, and seeing birds of any type poking at the thawed earth for worms again.
Birdsong. I know we HAVE birds all winter long, but danged if I don’t suddenly notice them for the first time in forEVAH right about now.
Not long after I notice the birdsong, I start seeing the first green triangles of the bulbs starting to push through. That’s when I get *really *excited, and I’ve been known to push away some of the snow to clear little circles around each shoot while excitedly chattering a greeting to each new baby plant.
(Okay, these are the *second *and *third *signs of spring for me. But “asparagus for 89 cents a pound in the supermarket!” just isn’t very poetical.)
Daffodils.
Sparrows mating at sunrise.
ants crawling out of the crack in the sidewalk.
The buds on the tips of my globe willow tree swelling, turning the edges of it pale yellow green.
Nekkid chicks having a picnic on the grass.
Somebody may have already done this, though. 