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I’m in the midst of this process that looks like it’s going nowhere. No product yet. I’m doing experimenting or, perhaps, skill building. My plan it to use cut silk shapes in the final piece. At this point I’m determining…

We got some snow yesterday. White on the trees and then… not. The relatively warm lake water causes melting along its borders, underlining the bright dusting above. Warm and cool: delineation. What a literal example of it! But really, isn’t…

Here comes the cold weather. Like a donkey with its heels dug in, I’m saying, “Noooooo!”. But then, when it was unseasonably warm before this, it seemed odd. Not right. Disturbing. So, I can’t have it both ways. I love…

I continue to be surprised when I read, Ross King’s book, Mad Enchantment, about Monet. What I find is this wonderful narration of discovery. And it intrigues me to read about how an artist finds their way. To roughly share my…

Minus the dock… still not quite Monet. The fall colors are just about gone, and yet they still shimmer through the early morning mist. Apparently, Monet’s eyesight was very bad in his later years. So much time outside in the…

Peaches. Her name is Peaches. Well, if you want the long version: Peaches en Regalia (thank you Frank Zappa – via Martin). And she is… a distraction. If she didn’t already merit the attention she receives by how much she…

The weather. That topic. It has been strange lately. The forecast was for 3 inches of rain. Did it mention high winds? Shall we say HIGH winds. And LOTS of rain. This is fall. Dry season. So the rivers flooded.…

Look closely. Can you see those last few leaves just clinging to the ends of branches? If you could look at that tree again tomorrow, they’d be gone. Last glimpse. That’s what we love about nature. The cycles. Those leaves…

A human life is the most complex narrative of all: it has many layers of events which embrace outside behaviour and actions, the inner stream of the mind, the underworld of the unconscious, the soul, fantasy, dream and imagination. ~my…

(photos of this glorious time of year) You know, I don’t like all stories. I was just at the “transfer station” (dump) where there is cute little swap shop. I dropped off two books there: stories about people. They were…