Barn in the Meadow

I love the feel of a fountain pen in my hand, as I pull it across the cotton rag paper. I can feel the nib catching on the fibers ever so gently, leaving raven black ink in it's wake.  With a little water I can soften those lines and dilute them to gray, sometimes even blotting with a paper towel to lift some of that ink.  If I go right back into wet areas, my lines are very black indeed.  I love this media, and the way it returns me to my roots, one mark at a time.  Painting number 2682 in 2682 days.