What do I want. What. Some body again who cares For my call, As the best part of their day. Who loves getting it. Who's day is better for a few simple words. For sharing a slice of life with One who cares.
What a string of perfectly beautiful days, Cool and breezy. Painting in my studio while Listening to music. Walk the dogs along pine-needle strewn paths. Home to fresh warm breads, a glass of wine under A moon-dark sky. Bid my dogs, my cats, goodnight, then open Windows to the last autumn air, warmly nestled Under furry blankets.
What a complete, utter fool am I to think Love would find me again. That to another I Would be first. Such is a hurtful, delusional fantasy, such idiocy, I can not any longer count love as a possibility, yet, When could I? The small equilibrium gained a half year ago, Now broken, is a cost dear. I hope only I can regain Me alone needed.
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.