Recently on another trip to the beach to paint with the mercury dipping down into the low 40's, the wind was blowing at a gale force. Martin complained about how he left his jacket with the hoodie at home and kept eyeing my Carhart. I offered him my jacket as I headed off to the beach. Walking a series of dunes while carrying what seemed like 180 lbs of gear, I realized Martin was still hanging onto my Carhart. I shrugged him off and the negotiated a trade, my beanie for an old sable brush with 3 hairs, a must for painting vegetation. The deal sealed Martin headed back where the truck was parked on a bluff over looking the beach. Once again I continued on the path up and down the dunes being sand blasted as the wind gusted to a flash freezing 40 mph.
After hanging on to my easel while painting for an hour or so I discovered at some point I had put my glove into the white paint. I had paint everywhere. Feeling the cold and not hearing anything from Martin, knowing he had no Hoodie and only a cheap beannie (I kept the good one), I decided to pack up and start the long climb back up the hill. As I walked my mind played out different scenes . Poor Martin frozen to bumper of truck. Maybe he had wandered to the donut shop across the street? I quickened my pace to find him all tucked in the back of his truck, Mp3 player blasting, huge tropical drink(He had traded my x beanie for) and a bag of chips.