The Metropolitan Museum of art has been a place I’ve returned to again and again over the years. I grew up on Long Island and escaped whenever possible in to the city. The Met, MOMA, Central Park…lucky girl. They all still feel like home.

No matter how short the train ride from where I lived on the north shore to Penn Station, the anticipation would build to full, blown out excitement.

I still feel that anticipation. And a visit last winter to the Metropolitan gave me the same feeling.  This time the trip was longer, and I took a plane rather than the train. It was absolutely frozen outside.  But inside it was golden. Huge boughs of forsythia were everywhere in the main lobby.

The crowds shed their coats  and strolled under the yellow petals waiting for the day to begin.  It was like hearing an orchestra tune up before the concert starts.

After plotting the course of the day throughout the museum and lingering for a few moments more under the spring flowers…

finally they moved into the hallowed halls.

What a perfect introduction to a magnificent museum.  This is “Overture: The Met” which I completed this summer.  It never gets old. The museum and painting in my studio are both wonderful.