When you come across a weary stranger in your neighborhood, offer her lemonade and perhaps a sandwich and fruit on your shady porch or garden. Your act of compassion, made with no strings attached, may bring surprising returns.
I met Brenda Behr when she was in Beaufort for a day of plein air paining. En plein air is a French expression meaning “in the open air", and refers to the act of painting outdoors with the artist's subject in full view. Plein air artists capture the spirit and essence of a landscape or subject by incorporating natural light, color and movement into their works.
Brenda had driven down from Goldsboro, two hours away, to paint a house on my street as a commission for a client. While in Beaufort, she hoped to also paint some other gardens or houses. It was the Old Homes and Gardens Weekend and she had learned that painting in full view sometimes attracts new customers, a starving artist marketing strategy.
As I came and went that morning, she remained by her easel, under a floppy straw hat. The sidewalk in front of our house gave her a good view for the house she was painting. The mid-day June sun was hot and I wondered if she needed something to drink, a bathroom with splash of water for her face, or some cheery encouragement. So, I said hello.
In fact, she did need a drink and a toilet, and also expressed interest to see our garden. She could see the canopy of our tree from where she stood. I invited her into our back garden for lemonade. We got into an interesting conversation, so I offered her lunch. She asked if she could paint the tree.
I was wary of the time as my husband and I were leaving for an out of town wedding. We left Brenda painting in the back garden, our house door unlocked, in case she needed the toilet or a cold drink. This day was the beginning of an enduring friendship.
Brenda is a skilled painter with an impressionist style that I love. We have many of her paintings, some purchased and many given to us as gifts. It has gotten to the point that my husband says to her, "You are welcome to come and visit but YOU MAY NOT PAINT any additional scenes of our house." But Brenda cannot stop herself, painting is like breathing and talking. She talks and thinks and remembers and visualizes best with a paintbrush in her hand.
She came to an Obama Election Night party that we held at our house. I found her sitting in a corner on a tiny stool painting all the hoopla in the room. Another artist friend, Lenore, was squatting down beside her, both laughing, entertained by Brenda's version of partying.
Occasionally I buy a painting but for any bought she gives me many others or beautiful stationery made from a painting she made in an early morning on a weekend visit.
My favorite is "Deborah's Porch" that she painted on a piece of cardboard. Over time she has given me tips to improve my nascent sketching and watercolor skills.
Recently, she visited us and I told her about a book, Like Moving Poems, that I longed to have. I found it in the library one winter day a couple years ago; and have checked it out many times. It is a book about a Chinese master water-colorist, Guan Weixing, who was invited to Greensboro, NC, by Ambleside Gallery to do an exhibition and series of advanced painting classes in 2006.
I described Guan Weixing's ability to paint portraits and landscapes using only 5 colors. The book is a collection of both his watercolors and his thoughts about painting and life. Every page is quotable. Here's an example:
"As watercolorists, we should learn to house our inspiration and passion in our careful thinking. We should do it in a calm an orderly way, and let our passion run out step-by-step. We mustn't think that we can lay about pigments in a disorderly way. All in all, we must be bold yet careful and try to control the paint. In this, watercolor painting is quite different from oil painting."
I told Brenda the background on the book and my attempts to buy one. Jackson Mayshark, the gallery owner, and his Greensboro art patrons were astonished by this man's exquisite artwork and Buddha-like personality, spirited, spiritual, funny, and deep. They put together this limited edition book to showcase his art and thoughts, and sold it for $50 at an exhibit and sale of Guan Weixing's paintings, held in the Ambleside gallery in 2007. I recently tried to buy this book on line, but found it was out of print and only a few used copies were available for $500 or more.
I was determined to find the book at an affordable price. I made a special trip to visit Jackson at the Ambleside gallery in Greensboro. I was hoping that the owner could help me acquire a copy. He regretfully said that I was one of many people who made the same request. "Sorry, I can't even get a copy for my mother."
Brenda listened to my story with a smile. When I finished, she told me that in fact she had attended that exhibit and purchased a book that night. "I am sure I can find it and I will give it to you," she said. A few weeks later the book arrived in the mail.
I called her that night to share my excitement and gratitude for her gift. We had an unusual conversation, perhaps even startling, but very much in character. I looked back on the phone call as if it were a dream. The next morning while weeding the bed of milkweeds, a full blown poem emerged in my brain. I had been looking for a way to thank her for the book. Perhaps the poem would serve as my humble offering.
When she received the poem she called me and said it was the best gift she ever received and from the tone of her voice I knew she meant it. Sincerity is one thing you can count on from true friends.
Swallowtail Midwife
My friend, the swallowtail midwife
Paints on canvas and with her sight
I met her by an easel in front of my house
Under a floppy hat
When I noticed the stars in her eyes
And bid her to my back garden
Tangling her into my web
To capture something, not sure what
Maybe serendipity
And so it comes, over the years
The unexpected gifts she leaves
A painting of the room where she slept
Or my favorite place to sit
Honoring the beauty of my food with photos
Whisking the peach pie to the porch railing
And a backdrop of flowers
Taking time to be dazzled before dining
And out of nowhere she pulls from the sky
A perfect approach I've been longing to find
To tell the story of me
No small things come from
Gathering a stranger from the street
With stars in her eyes
And then as if enough,
I told her of a rare book I longed to have
And she said I have that book
I will give it to you
And when it arrived my joy erupted
And I called her in delight but in mid-sentence
She made me hold the line
To photograph her birthing room
A kitchen filled with branches of fennel
Caterpillars folding into chrysalis
And chrysalis unfolding into swallowtails
Slowly, somewhat distracted by magic
She tells the story of her fennel garden
Every year planted for the swallowtails
A butterfly nursery, and as I wait
The swallowtail unfolded its wings
Wet, stunned and vulnerable
My friend sat in veneration
Then carried the hatchling into the night
And watched it fly away
Wishing I could see her quiet jubilation
Dazed again from her forever unexpected
I wander out into my moonlit garden
To my pot of dill with one fennel plant
Bought accidentally
Left for a reason I now know why
Another gift
From the painter, the butterfly maker
With stars in her eyes.
Those who follow my blog already know my history of inviting strangers to dinner in the years we lived overseas. In my retirement years I've been a bit more cautious, but not cowardly.
We live in a maritime village where sailboats dock for a few days so that the sailors can rest and restock. It took years to muster the courage to invite an unknown voyager home to give them food in exchange for their stories. Over some days my husband chatted with a couple docked near our boat. They lived on their sailboat and docked in Beaufort for several weeks last year.
We delivered home cooked meals to them when restaurants were closed during Covid lock-down and on their return voyage this summer, they cooked paella for us and taught Charles a new system for storing the main sail. I now have my sight set on several other boats with curious names and owners who call out a cheery hello as we motor by.
The NC Mountain to the Sea hiking trail passes through our town on its way to the Outer Banks. On several occasions I have seen a hiker or two with heavy backpacks, trudging along Hwy 70, hot and sweaty. Each time I wanted to stop my car and invite them home for a shower; and a place to clean their camping gear and clothes. An awkward idea, not often done, but just think of the stories those hikers can tell.
I've decided to blow caution to the wind. After all, I've had practice, and the rewards of doing so. I only need to remember the Swallowtail Midwife.
Photo credits:
I took the photos of Brenda, her paintings, and the swallowtail on my fennel plant.
Brenda took the beautiful swallowtail photos and video from her kitchen and garden..
Visit Brenda's website to see her artwork at: https://www.brendabehr.com
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