I brought my paints home, to increase the chances of using them. I would like to venture outdoors, but I only got as far as the bay window. According to my classical art education at onpainting, this actually qualifies as plein air. I sat cross-legged on the window seat, with the plate of grapes tempting me, and perched my panel on my lap. Easel shmeasel. I haven't used one since early April. I should be hit on the hand with a mahl stick.
Listen to the plein air that I breathe, performed by the Mavericks.