Mexico's True Colors

We were sharing viewpoints on the color of a shawl someone had bought in the market and was wearing to dinner -- the major event of every day, second only to painting. This night the menu included chiles en nogada , a regional favorite representing the colors of the Mexican flag and a work of culinary art. Poblano chilies are stuffed with ground beef or pork, walnuts, fruit and spices and often topped with white sour cream, red pomegranate seeds and green parsley. They earned my salute.

There are more restaurants in San Miguel than galleries and churches combined, and many cater to international tastes. Dinner another night was Asian fusion, fresh salmon in a honey, ginger and smoked chili sauce with an eggplant, mushroom and bell pepper terrine, and lemon curd charlotte for dessert. Bagels were an alternative to huevos con frijoles at breakfast.

Our painting options were also plentiful.

We went twice to the Charco del Ingenio Botanical Garden on the outskirts of town, which includes a canyon, small lake, ancient dam and miles of hiking trails. "It was a religious experience," said Priscilla Whitlock, 56, of Charlottesville. "That's the only way I can describe it."

"It was so gentle and quiet, wonderful birds . . . and after the rains, the cacti burst into bloom. It was my favorite place," said Dalgliesh.

We worked alongside students in the spacious Belles Artes courtyard near the Jardin, enclosed by a two-story stone-and-stucco arcade with tropical vines reaching all the way to the roof. The central fountain was festooned with flowers in an arrangement so fastidious it could have been a cover shot for Architectural Digest. A piano sonata drifted down from a second-floor studio where a music student was practicing, providing a romantic score to silent brush strokes.

Another day, we were mere specks on the vast desolate landscape surrounding an abandoned silver mining company outside of Pozos, a ghost town 45 minutes from San Miguel, where we spent a morning rendering endless shades of white. It was another one of those "pinch me" moments, so spectacular were the ruined building and abandoned mine shafts and barren rocky hills in the background.

Whitlock made a painting, rubbed it out and then began collecting stones to take home. "For the color," she said. "I want to get the color right."

At the Instituto Allende, we shared shaded walkways and an unpretentious, comfortable garden with language students, all old enough to have AARP memberships, who huddled at tucked-away tables working one-on-one with their Spanish-speaking tutors.

It was impossible to resist the churches, beckoning with graceful age and elegance. From the Cinderella Castle-like Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel to the small mission-style Capilla de San Miguel Viejo, they called to us.

"I felt prayerful," said Holland, describing her emotions as she painted La Iglesia de San Francisco across from our villa, its 1799 facade adorned with saints, cherubs, virgins and vines. I felt a tinge of loss for manners of days gone by when I watched old men remove their hats when passing by the open church doors.

Our blessings in San Miguel were many, but clear morning skies was not one. Most days began in a filmy haze, failing to produce the sharp shadows and contrasts that provide so much of the definition and dimension in art.

But we were given a departing gift. On the last two days, the morning dawned radiantly clear. We went to work like contestants on "Beat the Clock," in a race against the sun to capture that moment of brilliance.

Colors intensified. And so did ours. It was time to pack up and head home.

I guess you could say we were blue. A deep navy blue. And for once, everyone agreed on the color.

Susan Harb last wrote for Travel about Virginia Beach.