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Title : I Left my Voice in San Francisco (But I Brought Home Some Sketches)
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I Left my Voice in San Francisco (But I Brought Home Some Sketches)

 We flew home from San Francisco Sunday afternoon, my cold staking more territory with each passing hour, my laryngitis not aided one jot by the drying air of the plane. Exhausted as I was by the time we opened the door to the condo, though, I was quickly revived by the smell of roast turkey and the sounds of knives, forks, and clinking glasses mingling with the chatter and laughter of our daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren. Knowing we'd be late home for Thanksgiving dinner, we'd offered our place, with its greater square footage and its neutral toys (i.e. no rampage of the Nine's bedroom by the Five and the Three) -- and now all we had to do was sit down and eat. And check out the missing tooth in the Almost Six's mouth, the Almost Ten's new haircut.

Even better, while those who cooked the meal were cleaning up afterward (our offers of help firmly refused), I got to take the little guy -- Three -- out for a sit on our small front patio -- he'd been getting more than a bit past-my-bedtime-No-I'm-not-tired Growly, but wrapped in a blanket on the purple Fermob chair, the lights of the city spread in front of us, he released a heartfelt "It's Amazing.". . and then began pointing out the marvels -- a crane not too far away, a red band of light atop a building in the distance, lights moving across the lower sky -- whose mystery I explained as cars driving across a bridge. He was tickled to be able to "spy" people moving through living-rooms and around kitchens in the building opposite.

Eventually, the Fermob chair proved uncomfortable for him -- he needed more support for his little back and wanted to haul one of the inside chairs out. Instead, I convinced him to squiggle over onto my lap. . . We sat like that for five or ten minutes, chatting. The best five or ten minutes of my day, I must admit, San Francisco's marvels notwithstanding. . . .

Not to say that I didn't love San Francisco, however. As you know, I had a couple of wonderful days there with my friend Lisa, and then my husband joined me. Unfortunately, this is when I lost the struggle against the cold I'd been holding at bay -- we still managed a few good walks, marvelling at the city's architecture, and we ate at Mission Chinese the first night, as recommended by our daughter and son-in-law who'd been there a few months earlier. But we had to cancel the reservation we'd made for Saturday night (a well-reviewed restaurant I'd wanted to try, if only because it's called "Frances"!), and I wasn't up to visiting the glorious SF Museum of Modern Art.

Instead, I left Pater there (he took advantage of a tour of the temporary exhibition of Susan Meiselas' work and enjoyed it very much) and I went looking for a good spot to do some urban sketching.

I was delighted to find a row of empty benches along the sidewalk, sat down, and began sorting out the preliminaries -- placement, proportion, shapes, etc., and had just begun inking in some outlines when a young woman came out to tell me that the benches were reserved for the art academy's students (all of whom were currently elsewhere!), but that I could have five minutes. . .

So.

Despite the haste with which I had to proceed, and the loss of my chosen perspective partway through, I'm pretty pleased with the way this sketch captures my sense of that street's energy along with my memories surrounding the morning.

As well, this sketch -- and the one at the top of the page -- represents for me that I'm getting more comfortable standing on the sidewalk drawing. The small sketchbook is so discreet, and these sketches began with an inkpen, so I like to think I'm not conspicuous.

 Back in Vancouver, we've woken to sunny skies today -- and the weather forecast is for those to continue through the week with temperatures topping out at around 15 Celsius (59 F).  My voice is still AWOL, and I can't stray too far from a big box of Kleenex, but the crisp fall sunshine might coax my sketchbook and I outside later today.

And you? what are you up to?

Thus articles I Left my Voice in San Francisco (But I Brought Home Some Sketches)

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