Page 25 of The Northern Lights in His Eyes

“I suppose.” In LA, their lives had been about rushing and pressure. But up here, it was less stressed and more concerned with what was really important. Nature provided all the pressure and tension that Garvin needed. His first winter up here had put a lot of things into perspective.

“I can already feel the difference here. It’s about survival.”

Garvin chuckled. “To a degree, I suppose. But it’s not just that. We still have modern conveniences. They just take a different form sometimes. We’re closer to nature here. We live with it rather than trying to bend it to our needs.” In the city, the river ran through a concrete channel, while up here, rivers ran wild. “Come on. You can help me with dinner.” He passed William the plate of steaks.

What hit him pretty hard was how good it felt to do things together. That was something he had forgotten. He and John used to do a lot together, just simple things. William came around, and Garvin talked him through what to do. Occasionally they bumped elbows or touched hips as they worked, and Garvin smiled. He’d missed that sort of togetherness. For a second he expected the old longings and wishes to come racing back, but they didn’t. What took their place was bone-deep contentment, something so lost to him he barely recognized it.

“WHAT ARE you doing?” William mumbled the following morning as Garvin tried to slip out of bed. The air was cold, and he pulled his robe around his bare skin and stepped directly into his slippers. “It’s Sunday.”

Garvin snickered to himself. “And we need to go to church.”

William sat up as if he’d had a shock, the covers pooling around his waist. “What are you, my mother?”

Damn, that was a sight, and Garvin was so tempted to push William back onto the bedding. But after their acrobatics the night before, he wondered if William might be a little sore. “I’m kidding. I’m going to stoke up the fire and get us something to eat. Then we’re going to Devon’s class at the library.” He shared a kiss and then hurried to the other room, where he built up the fire, thankful there were still embers left from last night. They dressed and had breakfast before getting ready to go.

The sun was bright, reflecting off the ice and snow as they rode around the lake to the library on the other side. Garvin parked the snowmobile next to the others, and they went inside and hung up their outer gear.

Garvin paid for the class and led William through to the community room, where they helped set up the easels and supplies. Most of the winter resident families were represented in one way or another. The classes had started out as a way for Devon to teach the kids of the area during the summer, but over time they had morphed into a chance for everyone to learn from Devon’s amazing talent. Not only was he an incredible and famous artist, he was also a great teacher who had a way of explaining what they were seeing in a way that made it easier to translate it to the canvas.

“Is everyone ready for something new?” Devon walked through the small grove of easels with canvases already placed. “We’ve been working on the view outside our window here for quite a while, and we’ve painted it in many seasons, but up until now, we haven’t done winter, mainly because most of us think of it as a lack of color. Lots of white on white.” He turned. “But there really isn’t any white out there. Look at the ice. It’s not white, but very light gray with touches of shadow, light and dark. There are blues and grays, even touches of red and brown from the leaves that have mixed in.”

Garvin smiled over at William, who had leaned forward, his eyes shining with excitement.

“There are even blues from the sky tinting the snow, and of course the deep grays and blacks from the bare trees and conifers. Every color of the rainbow is out there, and yet at first glance we see only a blanket of snow. So what we’re going to do is paint the lake, like we have before, but I want you to use white sparingly. Let the other colors you see come forward. Then, at the end, we can add touches of mixed white.” Devon demonstrated the concept he was explaining with a simple painting of part of the far side of the lake. He brought it up close.

“I never saw it that way before,” William said as he stood there while Garvin began. Devon finished his demonstration and then came to help William get started. Most people in the class had worked with Devon before, so they were familiar with the medium and began their work.

“It’s one of the beautiful things about working with paint. We bring out what we see, so the interesting thing is that you and Garvin can look at the exact same point and each see something different. A photograph snaps an image, but with painting, you can convey not just a mood, but an emotion.” Devon helped William find his bearings before wandering around to check on everyone and returning to the front.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Garvin asked as he tried to make the bare trees not look weird.

“This is great.” William seemed very tentative. Devon continued talking from the front, demonstrating techniques before walking through to offer encouragement and suggestions. None of them were going to be serious artists. Garvin was certain that his paintings would someday, long after he was dead, end up in a thrift store at a buck each or something. But that didn’t matter. He was having a good time, especially watching William, who held his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

“Remember that this is a learning exercise. Don’t worry about getting everything perfect. Just paint what you see and feel. The rest will come.” Devon continued helping them all through the two-hour lesson. Garvin got much less done than he usually did because his attention kept being drawn to William.

“Mine is awful,” William whispered before he began cleaning the brushes and putting away the paint. “It was fun, though.”

“Art has a way of changing the way you look at the world,” Devon said as he came over to help get things put away. “Once you start to see the colors that make up the world around you, it changes the way you see everything.”

William scratched the back of his head. “I don’t get it. I mean, the snow is the snow, and….”

Devon smiled. “Come here.” He led William up to the windows, and Garvin followed. “Look at the sky. Now let your gaze lower to the surface of the lake. See how the blue gets picked up and reflected back?” William nodded. “Now look at the edges of the lake, near the trees. The snow is darker, even though it’s not in shadow. Light plays off itself and mixes together. In a way, it connects the trees, the lake, and the sky all together. Once you see that, you know that everything is connected.”

“Wow, I never understood….”

“It’s the way we see things. Light is more dynamic and complex than we think it is. It mixes together so that snow isn’t just white and the sky isn’t just blue. Nothing is that static or flat. Everything gets mixed together and affected by everything else.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Today was fun,” William said. “I don’t think I’m ever going to make an artist, but it was amazing to try something new.”

“Then the day was a success,” Devon said.

Garvin left the two of them to talk while he finished cleaning up their supplies and set their work to dry. Once he was done, they got their gear back on, and Garvin followed Devon over to the trading post. They had a big Sunday lunch. Enrique usually roasted something special, and this week it was turkey. The entire place smelled like his grandmother’s kitchen from when he was a kid. Nearly all the tables were full. Garvin joined some friends, leaving a space for William as he wandered through the post, looking at the small works hanging on the walls.

Devon joined him, probably explaining each one.

“It looks like they seem to have hit it off,” Enrique said.

“God, I hope so,” Garvin said.

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