A magic evening watching a friend’s dream evolve In front of us, her words spoken on the venerable Old P’town stage. And this swirl of sweetness carried us blind Through snow, tough driving, lifted by the success of This dear friend.
In the serene lobby of a small Boston hotel, meet friends For dinner, for music, for the incomparable Leonard Cohen. Seated on high In his tower of song, enveloped in his words and voice and sound, An honored evening for gratitude and thankfulness. We are Seated on high.
Spent the morning with another, who was looking For other than me. Went...why? Curious. But little else Nice enough person Spent the afternoon neatening my house, better use, To be on my own. My own, mine, I willingly learn To own alone. To allow the time past is a breath of heartbreak lengthened Through hurt to hallowed moments serene, to walk the field paths Under the sunset.
These last few days I have ridden with friends, each day A different horse, good to be with others a few hours In each day It seems i have not been alone here more than a few days yet, Though that isn’t true, I feel I’m moving on shifty sand, still trying to find stability Find contentment within these walls and within myself Find taking time to do this good, and find time to ride Josh, Bourbon, Blue.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.