Oil on Wood
There's always a little melancholy associated with leaving the island. The window boxes we planted in June are in full bloom and everything that was broken has been repaired. Little annoyances that loomed large at the beginning of the summer seem insignificant in the end. The air is fresher, the beach more pristine, and the mountains even more majestic than ever. It's time to pack up the paints and the dog and head for home. One last day to soak it all in. And then we're off.