Woodstock, Virginia-A Palette of Places

The other day, someone was peering at this painting and thought that it reminded him of small cabannas at the beach. Someone else looked at it and thought it reminded them of row houses in the city. I was happy about this, even though they weren't even close. I am hoping that these "places" in my mind translate universally to others and that they speak for themselves without my small story that prompted them to be painted.
In this case, as a child, I spent many, many memorable times at my grandmother's house in Woodstock. Almost every Easter, long summers at the pool, Thanksgivings in her dining room are just a few of the many good times spent at her warm home. My sister and I would play endlessly in the garage, the neighbor's yard, and in the garden. Behind my grandmother's house was a large berm with railroad tracks running right down the middle. Everyday the train would come through, rattling the windows of the house and tooting its whistle. My sister and I would always stop and stare, waving at the conductor as he passed. We must have looked like little, dirty urchins...filthy from playing in the dirt, often barefoot, but alway happy there in the warmth of my grandmother's lovely world.
As I grew older and my grandmother aged, I spent less time there, devoting myself to the distractions of being a teenager. I didn't realize until after she was gone what an extraordinary woman she was. Her house and the garage behind it with the swing my grandfather made was  our sanctuary. How I wish she were around today. I still miss her.