Postcards from the Ledge – 21

It’s a beautiful day in the studio garden.

Bright sun, getting hot, and tolerable humidity.

It has felt like we were about 2 weeks behind everyone else’s gardens but we are all getting used to a different pace. Herself and I take regular strolls around the place now and this morning we agreed that this has been the best year ever for flowers. There is so much color and the years of planting finally have displayed that English Cottage look I was aiming for.

I went out just now to take some pics but it’s not the right time of day, and up close you can see that the colors ARE beautiful…in spite of the weeding I haven’t done…so here’s the only one…for now

I’m eagerly anticipating the color which is not yet popping in the arbor bed because the nasturtium and marigolds are on the slow boat from holland…

I love before and afters so here’s the potato section of the Ruth Stout bed when planted on St. Pat’s day…

and the same corner today when I picked a potato for Pat…

That looks shockingly green on my computer but it’s pretty accurate. I gave the cukes on that hinged frame their first climbing lesson today.

From another angle the RS annexed strawbales with winter squash…

See I think those babies should be much further along…but we did have a very dry spell.

No pics of the raspberries which are plentiful this year but here’s a look at the blueberries coming in a close second…

I made the cardinal mistake of saying…outloud…to Matt last week that I had not seen a single June bug/japanese beetle…the very next morning…yep. So now I need to get out the Bucket Of Death into which I will plop their picked selves on my daily rounds.

So…a fine summer day.

We even decided to have an ice cream break on the rocking chairs for lunch…it’s just how we roll now.

After finally finishing the big painting last week, and coming to an almost complete creative standstill, I am making progress one step at a time towards whatever shall pass as the Granary show this year.

You’ve seen two of the eight paintings so far and I’d like to show you number three…

Aquinnah Sunset  –  20 x 30

It is a companion of sorts to the last one, Sunset Study, because they are both paintings of the same storm passing. More to come in the Painter’s Notes but it was the last night of our long island stay last fall.  The weather perfectly fit our mood and we had decided to turn left at Beetlebung Corner, choosing the less traveled path for a sunset view. It was, as it so often is…the right choice.



Happy Birthday ZOE !!!

Our valiant carrot whisperer is 10 years old today !!!

This painting was done when she was 8.
So much has changed in the world since then…

But Zoe’s imagination is growing brighter every day.

Sending you love and eagle hugs from the studio kiddo.


The Carrot Whisperer

“…I believe that everyone has imagination, that no matter how mature and adult and
sophisticated a person might seem, that person is still essentially an ex-baby. And as
children, we all lived in an imaginal world…you know, when you’d be told, “Don’t cross
that wall, because there’s monsters over there,” my God, the world you would create on
the other side of the wall. And when you’d ask questions like “Why is the sky blue?”
or “Where does God live?” or all this kind of stuff…like one of the first times I was coming to America,
I said to my little niece, who was seven, I said, “What will I bring you from America?”
She said, “Uh…” and her father said, “No, ask him, or you won’t get anything.”
And Katy turned to me and said, “What’s in it?” – (laughs) – which I thought was a great
question about America.”

An excerpt from the On Being conversation between Krista Tippet and the Irish Poet John O’Donohue

Our little carrot whisperer would have asked that same question at 7.
Now she is 8 and when we see her soon
I will ask her
but mostly I like to listen.

Zoe is one of the most richly vibrant souls
it has been my pleasure to share the planet with.

Her curiosity is fueled by a Tigger-like enthusiasm.

Stealthy observation informs her empathy.

And story telling is her super power.

So, last summer,
when I asked her seven year old self
to pose with the freshly picked carrot
and she examined it for a long while
deciding it made her think of
the snowman Olaf’s nose…

I waited

Then she thought the long green
fronds looked like hair
and she curled them in an arc over her head…

and I waited

And she started a story about how that
made her feel like a queen
and she was going to take the carrot
to visit her castle…

and I waited

until the queen decided she was in a carriage
and the carrot would, therein, accompany her
and she rested it regally on her shoulder
closed her eyes
and beckoned the footman to ride on.

An artist can’t choose her Muses.

We can only sharpen our brushes everyday
in the hopes that when they are ready to appear
we can catch them on …
the whisper.


Postcards from the Ledge – 20

I want to bring you a little study today…

Sunset Study  –  12 x 20

Little in size but not in heart.

This year’s Granary rollout will be spread out over the next month.
There are 8 paintings, now that I’ve finally finished the last one…is there a huge relief emoji out there ?

As I work to photograph and frame them all I’ll be writing the Painter’s Notes sporadically and am planning some sort of virtual presentation to accompany the paintings. So many ways things are changing and we here in the studio are ready to learn and experiment with new ways to share and promote art.

While we work behind the scenes to bring the new artwork to you please be safe, wear your masks, and enjoy the freshening summer breezes when you can.


Postcards from the Ledge – 19

Let’s talk about ART.

Times they are a changing.

So as artists
who read tea leaves
and listen for patterns
in the airwaves
we are always out there
on that ledge
awaiting signals
from the Muse.

The Art Galleries in this world are finding new ways to represent artists and connect patrons to their work. The Granary Gallery is OPEN for business now. The staff reports that people are excited to visit and respectfully wearing masks. They have a new footpath to safely direct people through the indoor galleries and the wonderful open air courtyard is full of ocean breezes and…ART !!!

Facing the many challenges which the world has thrown at us so far this year have taken me away from the easel for an unimaginable amount of time. I’ve shared some of those challenges here in these Postcards, and others are, like yours, privately kept.

But it is time now to start showing you what paintings I have been able to produce…so far.

I want to start with the one closest to my heart…and soul…

Signaling Home  –  24 x 36

I haven’t written the Painter’s Notes yet.
All my energies need to be focused on finishing the gigantic panel which is on the easel in time to send it up to the island for what will be a crazy summer of exhibitions without openings.

For now, as I expect most of you will already see, this one says everything about who I am, where I’ve come from and where I hope the road will take me.

There’s more to come
stay tuned
stay safe
and stay frosty out there.

Postcards from the Ledge – 18

Black Lives Matter…Period

Such a heavy time
So much grief
Layers of pain
Generations of choked out voices

In the midst of these disruptions, eruptions, protests and violent shaking off of the centuries of white suppression from the necks of those who have been born into the original sin of slavery in this country…

I have been searching my soul …
and listening.

One of the voices which is new to me came by way of an episode of On Being, conversations with Krista Tippett. She spoke with Resmaa Menakem.


  • Cover of  My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies

    My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies

    I’ve gone back several times to listen again and then again to try and understand more of his work which focuses on how trauma, particularly racism, lands in the body and how we all can be open to recognizing and listening to it as a path to move towards healing racial injustices.

    Here is a link to that episode…click here.

    Krista posts both edited and unedited versions of all her podcasts. This is one I highly recommend you listen to the unedited version. You can find it on her web site. The On Being project is a powerful resource for reflecting on the challenging work of peace in these troubled times. And there is so much work to do.

    I’ve returned to this blog space on a day when an other element of the country’s conscience has shifted. News that the Supreme Court has extended workplace protection to include members of the LGBTQ community.

    Coming directly on the heels of the most recent attempt/onslaught by the current administration to stamp out any and all rights which have been painstakingly granted to that same community …well I’m not feeling much like celebrating.

    In our lifelong personal battles as lesbians to be understood and accepted as equal humans Pat and I have always qualified our struggles with this thought…WE are fortunate (and here today we could substitute that word with “privileged”)…because we can hide our sexuality if we need to in order to be safe. People of color obviously can’t.

    With my heart broken wide open
    let me add all the soul in my voice
    to the roar for justice.
    Let the children of our grandchildren
    stand on my shoulders
    and march for equal civil human rights.

    I’m feeling gutted…

    so today…

    The Gutting – 2015

    Ah there’s always a dark side.

    In The Yachtsman, you have a sunny, blue skied, fair weather kind of a day.

    Here, the clouds thicken.

    The air was heavy and it was deep into the beyond of the shoulder season,
    Out in the gun metal grey waters of the harbor,
    only the heartiest of working vessels were moored.

    The wind was kicking up,
    and we had just come from the Newes,
    with bellies full of chowder and a pint or two of October ale,
    and I thought I could hear a steady tapping…
    just there coming around the corner behind us…
    like the wooden peg of a leg,
    tap tap tapping on the weathered cobbled stone.

    I reached over, pulled up the collar of Herself’s Pea Coat ,
    and snuggled closer for the warmth,
    and we made our way down to the dockside.
    ‘Twas then I heard the screaming.
    Ghastly wales, a staccato of screeching,
    and a frenzy of feathers seemed to come at us from all directions.
    The water churned and the sky was a roiling mass of gulls.
    Through the miasma of wings I could see a figure.
    A lone fisherman was tearing out the guts of his supper.

    It seemed as if all of the island flock was massing, and thrashing,
    to win the foul spoils of his long cold day at sea.
    The gruesome sight was more than I could bear,
    and my chowder began to repeat.

    Just before I managed to steer us away,
    in the midst of the carnage and chaos,
    I caught a glimmer of light.

    Perched on top of the blood red piling,
    with a gaping maw of frothing yellow beak,
    a white throated gull threw back her head
    and just
    and stunningly…

    The fisherman turned his head…
    And I will swear that I saw…
    a silvery, slithery, black eye patch.