It's like stepping into a dream right as it begins to blur at the edges. 

This painting reminds me of a wild field just before dusk, when the light is gentle enough to forget the day. The flowers here float, almost ghost-like, as if they've bloomed more in memory than in the soil beneath you.

The mountains fade into the mist, like old thoughts too quiet to grasp, while the shadows of the trees stretch up in that twilight blue, just enough to say, "we're still here."

And in the stillness of this scene, there's a kind of magic you don't always notice until you realize you've been staring too long...and breathing a little slower. 

That's what happens When The Meadow Dreams.

Acrylic on canvas

12 in. x 12 in