Day 28: I’ve painted this church many times and each time there are more branches... while painting today, a song rolled through my head. “Come to the church in the wildwood, oh come to the church in the dale. No place is so dear to my childhood as the little brown church in the vale.” This little church was my Moms church when she was young. I’ve heard stories of Saturday Christmas play practice and mishaps when someone tried to dry their boots to close to the fire. I’ve always wanted to see the inside as it was when my Mom attended, but many years ago it was remodeled into a summer home.
The church that I attended as a child, was about a half a mile down the road, past the old cheese factory. When I drove by to take reference photos, I found it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. Even though it is gone, it still stands straight and sturdy in my memory. If I close my eyes, I can still walk up the 3 rough concrete steps to the old weathered, double doors. I turn the cold metal doorknob and push hard, the door had a tendency to stick... 3 more steps will take me into the sanctuary. The pews are hand made with no cushions and are straight across, from side to side. The old upright piano, that was hard to keep in tune, is on the right side of the maple pulpit. The floor boards are painted light gray and the walls are papered with a repeating pattern of a generic country scene (the pastor hung wallpaper as a side job). As I stand there in my memory, I hear “would you all pease rise and turn to page 345, in your red hymnal and join in as we sing, The Church in the Wildwood”.
“The Church in the Wildwood” watercolor/colored pencil, 3”x5” $125