We go up to heaven and down to hell a dozen times a day – at least, I do. And the discipline of work provides an exercise bar, so that the wild, irrational motions of the soul become formal and creative. – May Sarton in Journal of a Solitude Seated...
I started painting three years ago because our new-old farm house had large wall spaces; wide, paneled surfaces. I started painting because we couldn’t afford to buy art to hang. Driving home from the grocery store one day with the twins buckled in to...
(This isn’t the fox I drew, but rather one I found online to work from – isn’t it charming delightful?) Last week I started work on a painting I planned to give to a friend. Standing at the old sink in the Little House (where my office is) I...
What We Need Is Here Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear....
I loaded three cartons of eggs and three ice blocks into our straight-out-of-the-eighties rolling cooler this morning. We inherited the cooler from a friend because she didn’t need it anymore and we didn’t want to spend $20 on a cooler for eggs that might not...
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