She turned.

Salt. Sand. Sunny times. Dreaming of the beach will get you through February.

What now?

THIS! Searching through volumes of drawings and this popped up. Archives are a good thing.

Tomorrow

And when I awake tomorrow, the wind will have abated. I'll no longer shudder at the sound of it tearing at the shakes. Until then, I'll stay where I am—in a state of utter disarray, despite my colorful outlook.

Summer's passed

watercolor, 22" x 30", Vermont.

Sorry to see the warm weather leave but autumn is beautiful.

from Limping Frogs
The lower farm on the south side of the road represented the bulk of the acreage.  A sugaring shack, ensconced in a stand of maples, belched steam in March when Will boiled down the sap to a rich, amber syrup for pancakes.  An oak lot heated his house through the winter months and several of the trees now stood as a desk and bookcases in the den.  The cedars that topped the rise near the stream supplied fence posts; some were milled for sale as siding and decking.  Tessellated with verdant pastures and feed fields, the balance of the land fed the productive herd, once renowned for their sweet, delicious milk.

Thoughts of Maine

I'm remembering sunny days on East Pond, sitting in a boat, sketching with watercolor.

A new . . .

Harbor View, Acylic/ canvas/ 22" x 18"


Bereft of technology.

Patterns

An Unknown City from Above, acrylic/canvas/ 2005, 36" x 60"

Interesting patterns.