Finally I have walked the grounds of Winterthur, Seen some of its splendors, have driven backroads the Wyeths’ called home. I paint, Dear, and slowly learn my craft. It is not always easy, getting out of my own way. I miss us.
Solstice, the longest day finds me on your bench Under the pine, after walking the labyrinth, the yard Admiring its neatness And order, you would have enjoyed this, And the bug-less evening, soft air And cool temps. A neighbor is haying, his sheep baa-ing You know who and know too you are ever In my heart
Friends have come to share time here along My fields and marshes and then there, ocean front. Two leave tomorrow But this evening, two of us decamp to a riverside Cafe, seated by the wharf in air sun-warmed. Humid and lazy, We delay until from down the bank, fireworks star- Burst above treetops to reflect on the waters, and In our souls
The afternoon light is a clear brilliance Beautiful as cut glass. The wheat has forgone greens For spun gold, Color of precious love gifts, carrying over far acres In air sweet and crystalline. Mostly we did Choose homes well. And I am caught in the seduction of such a spot, In an evening bordering perfection, only not sure now, For right reasons.
My cousin comes to visit and to help me We don bug sprays and bug shields to Wield shrub clippers. As we decide and chop, wheel away debris while Lunch then dinner is considered, his presence is companionable and welcome.
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.