So I moved to a different overlook and crammed into the back of the car, wedged between my canvas-bearing sweater rack, a box of Christmas presents for Peter and a case of beer, also for Peter (though some have mysteriously disappeared). I was able to balance the 2nd 8x10 on my thighs, set the palette on the beer box and start a decent painting, careful not to tip over the jar of turpentine. My feet went numb since they were sticking out into the cold and not getting much blood flow but the painting had potential. Unfortunately, the view became increasingly vague as the little balls morphed into giant flakes and the valley below disappeared into white.
I soon returned to the lodge, determined to regroup and paint after lunch but I could not convince myself to go outside again and so I sat by the giant fire and read.
IF I could upload today's photos (the iPad just isn't a laptop, now is it), then you could see how my two small paintings turned out. Neither would qualify as a worthy "First" in my series of 50, but I do have tomorrow to paint in this state before I head to Oklahoma. I think I will go to Magazine Mountain, the highest point in Arkansas.