Tale of the Tour Chair Part 2

Eager to get started, the artist spread newsprint in the sunshine on the deck and found paint and brush.  but what's this?  This wood is rough and the edges are sharp.  This will not make for a fine chair.

Sandpaper is found and the artist sets to work, caressing each piece to make certain that it is fine and smooth.  Alas, too much time passes and the sun continues its journey to behind the great mountain.  The painting will have to wait for another day. 

The next day dawns bright and sunny and as the sun's warmth melts the frost from the land, the artist exclaims, "Yes!  Today I can begin to paint this great chair."

Once more she spreads newsprint on the deck, lays out the pieces of the chair, and finally commences painting.  The warm sunshine quickly dries the paint and she goes to turn the pieces to paint the other side.  What's this?!  It has stuck to the paper.  Oh no!  Carefully she tries to lift the other pieces but they are all stuck.  Sighing deeply, she reaches once more for the sandpaper to remove the bits of paper now stuck to the pieces of the chair.

There must be a better way. 

She heads inside and returns with plastic to place under the pieces of chair.  Once more, she stirs the paint and resumes painting. 

Alas, much time has passed.  Clouds have appeared and a great chill is beginning to blow across the land.  Sadly she once more closes the paint container and takes the pieces of chair inside. 

"My fingers are numb.  It is too cold to paint."

That night the wind began to blow and soon cold fingers of snow were swirling through the air.  All night the snow whirled - sometimes in tiny delicate flakes, sometimes in great feathery sheets.  Come late morning the snow clouds retreated to the mountain tops having left the land once more decked in wintery white.  This would not be a day for painting chair pieces in the sunshine on the deck.

As the cuckoo called the hours as they passed, the artist fretted.  "I must  continue to paint the chair.  There is much to do and the artwork will take much time."

As the cuckoo called three o'clock, she said, "I must start now. I cannot wait another day.  I shall spread the plastic here on the dining room table and finish the priming."

So she began to complete the priming but what's this?  The wood she had painted is rough!  The paint has brought out the grain of the wood.  Oh no, the pieces will once again need to be sanded!  Will this chair ever be ready for the artist to weave her magic upon it?

(to be continued)