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“...these vignettes I sketch for you - what are they? watercolors ..yes and dreams blurred with tears ...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“In the winter of 1968, Kya sat at her kitchen table one morning, sweeping orange and pink watercolors across paper, creating the plump form of a mushroom. She had finished her book on seabirds and now worked on a guide to mushrooms. Already had plans for another on butterflies and moths.
Black-eyed peas, red onions, and salt ham boiled in the old dented pot on the woodstove, which she still preferred to the new range. Especially in winter.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“Isaac studied the huge, airy room and went to stand in front of a wall of watercolor apples- each one was set off by a colored background ranging from deep blue to fluorescent green to soft pink. He turned to ask Sanna about it, but she was still in the kitchen, pulling salt-crusted baked potatoes from the oven.
Bass kneeled on a bar stool and stirred sliced apples with cinnamon and sugar. On the counter were the fixings for a baked potato bar, with cheese, bacon, broccoli, sour cream, and minced chives.
"Are the apples above the fireplace meaningful?"
Einars bent lower to talk to Bass, as they layered the apples into a dish, forcing Sanna to answer the question.
"Those are all the apples we grow in our orchard."
There were at least thirty. He hadn't even known there were that many varieties of apple in the world.
"Did you paint them?"
"Some of them. Most were done by much older relatives.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

“There are times in life---sometimes, not always---when the water on paper drips with the color of just the perfect hue, until the effect is something so ethereal that the artist knows it must simply be experienced because she can never produce it again.
And the color shifts over time, shifts still over sunlight, until the watercolors fade completely back into the paper itself, and all that's left is the memory.”
― Ashley Clark, Paint and Nectar