journal
the crossroads of art and life
Out of the Comfort Zone and Into the Mystic
Butterflies in my stomach, I overpacked the car with groceries, canvases, kitchen sinks and a bathing suit for good measure. So many months ago I applied for this residency, at a place I knew little about. Why do introverts sign on for such things? This introvert, in...
On the Easel – March
Walker Hill, Fable Farm, and More Swallows In February I traveled to Kochi in Kerala, India, for 10 days of bold color, rich connections, and a renewed appreciation for leaping out of my comfort zone. I came home to mud season and sent pictures of snow and frozen...
It’s All So Fragile
It was 10 below zero when I woke up this morning. The sun is shining so bright I need to pull the shade to avoid squinting. And layered over an ordinary March morning is this ceaseless ache for the anguish across the globe. Moments in Ukraine—described by its brave...
Good Madness
I’ve had these words pinned beside my desk since last spring when I came upon them. I tried to live by them in 2021. But 2021 wasn’t so easy. It followed 2020 which was somewhat worse. But 2019 was really hard for me with the death of my mother, so I’ve decided that...
What Does it Mean to Be Lucky?
Here we are, dust settling around the nation's Capitol, snow on the ground, my daughter planning her 16-hour drive back to college, and a new surge of coronavirus cases spiking. So much to worry about. Thinking back to last year at this time, my mother had just died...
The Dirtiest Cleanest Hands
Everywhere I dig—and I am digging at every chance I get these days—I am finding something buried. And that could be a metaphor for all of us in these days of stay at home orders and isolation. What's deep inside is sustaining each of us, I'd wager. If we aren't...
A Sky Like Spring
This morning there was a shift in the light in the sky. The weekend was bitterly cold with that pink or pale icy blue tinge in the ether. Today there was a warm hint of yellow in the sky blue and the hills glowed differently. The 28 degree F air felt balmy on my...
Remember Sparks
Remember that night back in September? But as the moon rose, like a lantern above the farthest hill,we got goose bumps and huddled under the blanket, which was damp. The fiddles played. And guitars and cello. Voices rose up in the night.Clothing caught the dimming...
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Something in here that is beautiful