on days when the mean reds are getting the best of me

(which, thanks to five midterms in seven days, has been a lot lately)

more often than not, I find myself here,

in the Brigham Young University Museum of Art,

reflecting on Carl Bloch's Healing at the Pool of Bethesda. 

I sit.

and I think about Christ.

and life.

crying and cleansing and feeling.

There's something quiet and sacred about museums

that will dissipate any and all anger or anxieties of mine

in nearly an instant.

BYU is currently exhibiting art by the Weir family--

a father and two sons, all painters.  There's something terribly romantic and American about that, isn't there?

my favorite painting of the day...

self portrait with soft hat by Julian Weir 

..but I always have been partial to impressionistic styles, haven't I. 

Though that isn't to say I didn't thoroughly enjoy the more academic feel of his brother, John Weir.

Forrest of Fontainebleu

The Grand Canal, Venice

The MOA also currently has an exhibition featuring Whistler etchings.

Be still my heart.

One simply must top off an afternoon like that

with a vanilla steamer.

full cream, thank you.

According to today,

I'm a lover of all things rich,  as it were.