Studio Visitors Archives - Page 4 of 8

Feathered

Posted on November 26, 2014 by heather

It’s a wonderfully dreary start to the day before Thanksgiving in central Pennsylvania, the perfect weather for painting.

We, like so many in this land, have a large plucked bird in the fridge and are planning to roast it with most of the trimmings and be thankful. And I am, for many things. But today, I thought I’d concentrated on…the birds.

Watching them, feeding them, learning about them, painting them, and most of all the delight of coming upon the treasured gift of their feathers.

The studio is full of them. Collected over the years, their beauty astounds. With my new bionic knees I am back out on the trails, and the muses are back as well…

After finding this beauty, I decided it was time to get serious about identification so I got this book…

Which I highly recommend. I’ve been pouring over it for days now. And the first one I spied was this one which recently made a supporting role appearance in this painting you might remember…

if you zoom in on the Jorgesen, that would be the clamp for you non-woodworkers, you will see the feather, which…every single one of the avian enthusiasts mis-identified. I have four of them which have been floating around here for years. But right there on page 91…

we see that it belonged to a Chukar !
Further research, at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, reveals that the Chukar is…

A native of southern Eurasia, the Chukar was introduced into the United States from Pakistan to be a game bird. It lives in arid, rocky terrain across the western United States and southern Canada.
And then it hit me…I already knew that. Insert fading memory comments here as you will, but it all came back to me. Years ago, I’ll say 4, I found one perched on my studio garage roof. As you can see, it is a stunner of a bird so it caught my attention, but it is also not a local gal. I also seem to remember that, when first I googled this creature, there was mention of raising these smallish sized birds to release for hunters to take down with big guns, ( picture me here shaking my head in dismay).

The memory of finding the feathers is lost but, when I decided to take the leap to add that little bit of whimsy to Peter’s painting, it was after all a painting of Peter, the birdman of Plymouth, I didn’t have to look far to find the perfect candidate as these four feathers have been tucked into a little blue teacup behind my easel for lo those, I’ll say four, years now.

Above that easel is this display of painting and sketch and original model…

And yes, the muses are right there over my shoulder of late…

Cardinal Wolsey. The ever present window slammer of a bird, is still with me. I now believe she is more than just a disturbed bird. Pat and Finn met a woman at the park last week who, after hearing the story of the intrepid one, immediately suggested that she was someone who I had known who had “passed on” and did I know anyone in the clergy. Well I sat back in my chair at that one. Seriously, my father, the Presbyterian minister, returned as the slammer ?

Possibly ?
I’m still pondering that one.
But this bird is definitely trying to tell me something. She now follows me from window to window and watches me all day long. Hurling Herself at the panes seems to diminish when I settle in at the easel. Then she just flies up and stares at me…the rubbernecker.

Well, ok, that part could be Ted. He is definitely nudging me to focus on painting…probably as I write this…which is taking time away from what I began this blog with…

that perfect painting day.

Well, the dreary rain has turned to our first snowfall of the season. The promise of a winter wonderland, a bird in the oven, one at the window, and two dozen at the feeders…that’s all I need of Thanksgiving.

And, this…to all my friends and patrons, whose support allows me to do the work that is so meaningful to my soul…

Thank you.

Father and Daugher Portraits

Posted on September 26, 2014 by heather

Working quite late in the studio tonight, but I’m at this computer rather than at the easel. There’s a lot of “business” stuff to this full time artist deal and it allows me to stretch some other creative muscles. Tonight, it’s writing.

No, not this blog, Painter’s Notes. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you will have found your way to this logo,

It appears at the bottom left of each of the large format image pages, which are found when you click on a thumbnail in the Portfolio section of my website. The logo takes you to the little journal writing that I do for each painting. Long story, written up somewhere in the archives here, but for now, let’s just say that once I got started…I wasn’t allowed to stop.

I am not a writer, and the “I have to do the Painter’s Notes” task does tend to be put off until it can wait no longer. Tonight is that night. At least for the five new paintings that are going out to Santa Fe. Well, they have already arrived, ahead of our flight next week out to the land of enchantment.

As I begin, it puts a smile on my face to see the images of The Bogcutter and The Smock side by side…

Our son Jon, and his daughter Zoe.

Jon originally posed for this painting almost 5 years ago. Zoe is 4. She was just a twinkle in Papa’s eye when he hefted the bogcutter on his shoulders and let me sketch away. I’m so grateful now, for the reference photos I took way back then. Everybody changes over a five year time span, but I, unknowingly, caught him just before his life was to shift forever.

That painting sat on the back burner while I gathered up the courage to attempt an honest portrayal of someone I loved. Man it took guts, for me at least. The nudge of that AAC article was the extra shove I needed. That, and watching the passage of time move into warp speed.

The portrait of Zoe was a much more serendipitous affair. She simply wanted to paint next to her Mima. And when I got up to fetch her some clean water…it was all about the raking afternoon light. I wondered if a then 3 year old, would understand the concept of modeling. She loved trying out the new word and was so serious about her craft that the camera, clicking away behind her to capture the fleeting light in her hair, was no distraction. She was a natural at taking direction and held that dear little hand still so I could record the shadow on the dimple.

OK, now it’s later and I may not make it much longer tonight.
But, it’s a start. I’ll let you know when to click on that logo.

Racing through the summer…

Posted on August 9, 2014 by heather

Today was the perfect summer day.
A cool morning spent waiting for the sunlight, to break through the ash tree’s canopy, and settle just where I wanted it on the clotheslines, which had been strung with a white cotton sheet, and clipped with Ted’s pin…Herself, as model, went about watering the garden beds in between bursts of light, and I spent the time picking asparagus beetles off of the fronds.

Then, Finn and Herself headed up to the park for a walk, while I headed inside to work up the sketch, and review the photos, before a quick sanding on the studio porch to get the panel ready.

Then I heard the beep of a text to ask if I wanted ice cream for lunch…and off we went for a beautiful drive through the high summer hills and that rich creamy Reeser’s cone of bliss.

Then a spur of the moment stop at the Old Trail Variety Store on the way home, where we always find something we don’t need but might someday find it’s way into a painting or two. Today it was a couple of old hand forged cooking tools and some impossibly deep red drinking glasses. Stay tuned there.

Home to a dry panel ready for the first pass of paint, and a chat with neighbor Sue who was kindly mowing our lawn and smiling at her grandchildren who had arrived to swim and romp through her yard like kids used to do on a summer’s day. And off went She Who Must Swim, up to the lake, for her afternoon adventures.

A few hours of peaceful painting…and now it is late, but the sky refuses to give up the day, and, having checked in with the Vineyard Gazette for news of the island, I read that today was the running of the Chilmark Road Race.

Since this year’s show included the painting, The Road Race, I thought it was time to check back in here and connect those dots.

I just love the hometown feeling of this summer island event. And the winners get 5 lb lobsters ! That almost makes me want to…well…no. But here’s a taste of victory…

I’m headed home now, the log cabin is hosting movie night and I’m in charge of the popcorn. Here’s hoping you have had at least a handful of these summer days to add to the memories…
Here’s a link to the full article about the race, but I’ve copied it here to read.

Click Here to Read Article…

Fleet Feet And Tradition Are Heart of Chilmark Road Race

Ivy Ashe
Saturday, August 9, 2014 – 6:14pm

– See more at: http://mvgazette.com/news/2014/08/09/fleet-feet-and-tradition-are-heart-chilmark-road-race?k=vg537f3e3453436#sthash.5bf82Ivt.dpuf

Sheridan Wilbur, 17, of North Smithfield, R.I., woke up at 5:20 on the morning of the 37th annual Chilmark Road Race. She piled into a car with her family and they drove to Woods Hole. There was a bus from the parking lot, the boat ride over, a bus to Chilmark and finally a bus to the starting line of the race.

After that Sheridan needed only her feet, crossing the finish line in a brisk 18:24.55 to earn the top women’s time in the race, placing 13tth overall. Though the rising high school senior has taken first place in her age group before in her four years of running the route, she’d never won the whole thing. But on Saturday morning, she finished with both a victory and a personal best.

“I was running with another woman for the first two miles,” she said after the win. “I started to break away from her then.” The famous hills of the topographically challenging race start to appear at about that point, but as Sheridan said, “As soon as you get to the top, you have the ocean view and you think, oh, the finish is close.

“It was cool just to break the tape.”

David Melly, 21, of Newton, knows exactly what it’s like to break the tape too. The winner of the 2011 race, Mr. Melly blazed to a sub-16-minute finish (15:43.31) to take first place once again. A rising senior at Cornell University, where he competes on the cross country and track squads, Mr. Melly said his familiarity with the course helped secure the win.

“In this race I was pretty much just chilling in second place until the last mile,” he said. “The hills become your friend. You can use them to your advantage.” In the final stretch, everyone has the same advantage: the packs of cheering spectators on both sides of the road, forming a veritable tunnel of support.

“That’s so much fun,” Mr. Melly said. “More than anything else, I think that’s why I keep doing this. It’s the best finish. It’s very, very gratifying.”

As per tradition, the winners of the men’s and women’s races collected massive five-pound lobsters from Larsen’s Fish Market as their prizes. The winners of the kids’ divisions each earned a pair of chicken lobsters. When nine-year-old Jack Lionette of Chilmark stepped up to collect his first-place lobsters, race organizer Hugh Weisman noted the “pretty amazing” time nine-year-old Jack had run: 19:58.

“Holy smokes,” someone in the crowd said. “Damn,” said another.

Jack, who also won his age division last year, said he was “definitely trying to break sub-20,” and had been “sprinting the whole way.” He credited part of his success to a pre-race dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, and ultimately has his sights set on the course record itself (14:38).

Though Jack was the youngest Vineyarder to cross the line first, Michael Schroeder, 19, of West Tisbury took the top overall spot for Islanders, finishing 11th with a time of 18:14.8. Emma Mushnick, 26, of Vineyard Haven, posted the fastest Vineyard time in the women’s race, running a 20:46.85 to take 61st overall and third in her age group.

This year’s field was the largest in race history, with more than 1,600 entrants completing the 5K course. Some were familiar faces, like the purple-shirted MacMaster clan from Pennsylvania. This year, 29 MacMasters took part in the day’s events.

“This year we’re stretching it into in laws,” Keegan Skidmore, 31, said before the race. Mr. Skidmore is himself a recent MacMaster in law, and did the family proud by placing seventh overall and second in his age group.

One group wore pink tutus and matching antennae-like headbands, which complemented the official black race shirts they wore.

“It’s our 10th year running it this year,” said Jessica Donahue. “Last year, when we were running it we decided we needed to do something special.”

But whether a competitor, a spectator or a volunteer, everyone at the Chilmark Road Race finds a way to make it their own.

Susan Brown of Edgartown hadn’t run the race since 1980.

“Today I am 70 years old, one month and one day,” she said. “My goal was to finish, and finish in under an hour. And I did it. I’m still standing.” Then she was off to collect her award, for placing third in her age group, before heading home to celebrate the milestone.

Nathalia Garroway, (22 months old) wearing a floppy sun hat and too-big race shirt, toddled across the finish line with her parents Christopher Garroway and Nadia Popova.

Mr. Garroway and Ms. Popova had intended to bring their two-month-old along as well, ultimately deciding it was too hot for the infant to be outside. But Nathalia was up to the challenge.

“She only stopped once to pick some flowers,” Mr. Garroway said.

Only last week…

Posted on July 31, 2014July 31, 2014 by heather

It was a stellar time on Martha’s Vineyard. A magnificent gallery opening with wall to wall kind and generous patrons of the arts, bookended by two amazing weeks on the wildly changed and stunningly brilliant Chilmark bluff.

I’ll have more to say about that and this, but for now, I have to kick the studio up into high gear to get ready for the next show…stay tuned.

Here are just a couple pics of the exhibition and smiling faces of dear ones who shared our island hearts…

4 Featured Artists, Wendy, Don, Heather and David, as we get ready to shake some hands.

Wendy, Herself and David making everyone feel welcome.

Ted, wouldn't have missed it. — Ted, wouldn’t have missed it.

Family traditions ... — Family traditions …

The gallery's next generation... — The gallery’s next generation…

And a wonderful whirlwind reunion with Goddaughter Emily.

Notably missing are photos of the rest of the Granary Crew, Sheila, Adam, Sara, Nancy and Adam, the second, who were far too busy working hard to keep that place hopping. We are deeply grateful for everyone’s support up there…both humble and proud to be a part of their stable…as it were.

More to come as I sort through the ten thousand or more photos taken. The camera is still smokin’.
For now…I gotta go hit the brushes…
Be happy all.

Ted and Pete as Muses

Posted on July 1, 2014July 1, 2014 by heather

Ted and Pete have made quite a splash in their Cover debut on the American Art Collector Magazine this month, and I thought you would like to see some of their other inspirations as Muses.

Over the years, they each gave me the great gift of seeing the island of Martha’s Vineyard through their eyes. Both had DNA spread liberally across generations and rolling fields and they had an eager student of island history in my eager ears.

Ted and his wife Polly sent me wandering down many a sandy trail through brambles and over rocky rutted roads in pursuit of hidden landmarks and relics of island lore. After Polly left us, Ted rode shotgun on those adventures and navigated us to some seriously back-of-the-beyond treasures.

One such romp was to find the elusive Gay Head Lily. We ended up announcing ourselves in this lovely woman’s yard at the end of a long lane and out Ted, the celebrated head of the island garden club, waltzed to her dock along the pond to show me the flowers. Stunning. As I look back today, his hand seems far more delicate than those petals, but oh the wonders, that magician that he was, our Ted, could pull out of his hat.

Here’s a link to the original blog entry describing this painting…Click Here.

Another fine day found Ted and PG Harris and I bouncing along an old carriage path in my truck in search of The Brickyard. Ted thought it would be sorta fun to see it, and introduced me to PG whose family owned the property, and, after a couple hours of historical lecture on the area…off we three drove…I mean there we were in the middle of three glorious old fields surrounded by ancient stone walls and PG points to a small break in the stone and says, “Just drive over and through there and we’ll see.”
The Painter’s Notes give the rest of the story…click here… but suffice it to say, now that they are both floating somewhere high above that island…that adventure was one of my all time favorite memories.

Now, Peter Darling, well…he was just Pete. We called him the Admiral because he always had binoculars around his neck and was ever watchful from his deck. Not nothing, not no one, got past his old farm house on Greenhouse Lane without Pete knowin’ about it. Many a stranded sailor was rescued by the coast guard that Pete had hailed after spying their distress from his perch on top of those bluff steps. And every feather of the nesting osprey was monitored by their stalwart steward of a neighbor.

There is a tiny knoll in the long lane, right by his house, and I took to honking my horn with each passage so as to let oncoming traffic be wary, (and just between you and me…to keep the Admiral on his toes !). The very last time I heard from Pete, he had brought out a great big foghorn to his porch and answered my heralding call with his own. I really loved that.

These two views of Pete’s house give you an idea of the depth of beauty that surrounds the Darling’s farmhouse. His wife Della is there now and I’m eager to see her next week to give her a big hug and hear how life on the lane is faring this season. Della is a great fisherman and a lover of walks. In her travels, she has worn a path all along the perimeter of those old stone walls. I hear that some daisies grow there to welcome her in the late spring. She has earned them.

A couple of years ago…the year of the Apple Series, I spent the winter listening to the double trouble musings of Ted and Pete.
Pete was a tremendous trove of knowledge of Up Island lore and indeed history of all flavors. He loaned me a couple old tin coffee pots, the kind that were used over campfires by campers and travelers to cook up the early morning brew. The dear little one that made it into the Skillet Apple Pie painting was my favorite. Looking back, I should have blown some smoke out of that thing. Pete woulda loved that.

The core of this series, (written before the pun hit me, sorry), was the modeling session with Ted in the Magnuson’s Tiasquin Orchard…which all started with Chris’s suggestion…and the rest of that story is in these Painter’s Notes…click here.

And the man himself…

who sits in this chair across from my easel
and reminds me, every day,
that I am all the better
for knowing that twinkle
in his mishcievous
and loving eye.

Never trust a man,
who when left alone
in a room with a teacozy,
does’t try it on.

Billy Connolly

Cardinal Smash

Posted on June 29, 2014 by heather

Intermittent Reinforcement –
That would be akin to psychological torture and for an artist, in her studio, painting with tiny brushes, all day…
most, any … all distractions raise the blood pressure.
In the case of the smashing cardinal, radical measures had to be taken…

Earlier this spring, The Bird, started seeing her reflection in this window and set to hurling herself at it. Repeatedly. In five – ten minute intervals. Sun up. To sundown.
My easel is six feet to the left.Where, this spring, I was sitting…Sun up to Sundown and then some.
Years ago a naturalist friend explained the phenomenon to me and I have since forgotten all the lovely avian reasoning behind the need to defend…against oneself. And, though I have had oodles of time to ponder the psychological anomalies of seeing one’s own reflection as a threat…a constant threat…I long ago lost patience with the hurling distraction. Not to mention the self-mutilating brutality of what the poor misguided bird must be experiencing.

So, the sheet. Which neighborhood watch persons, Paul and Matt, saw on their daily bucolic commutes and wrote a scathing review of on social media. Insert smiley face emoticon.

This fix did work. It even survived for many weeks through storm and wind and hail. Last week, after I had left the easel behind for some quilting therapy, and needed more light, I took down the sheet.
Tap tap…smash. She was back.
Now, sitting directly in front of the action, I was able to see that, except for some drool and bother, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of residual bird parts left after the attacks. The beak alone was being used to make… her point. I had hoped that it was a nesting behavior and that all that mess would be over by now. But no. Or still. I’m not sure.

Either way, the sheet has gone back up. I have left the now dim corner of the quilting chair, and returned to the easel. And now, just for fun, I am privy to one or two tiny taps an hour. Seems that she is ever vigilant, but now only curious, and she flies up to the top of the sheet and perches and peers inside for a silent, blessedly silent, minute or two and then is off. You would have had a photo of this for confirmation, but she is camera shy.

I, of course, am curious my own self.
Trickster Goddess or Muse ?Painter or Seamstress.
Perhaps time will tell…
I know SHE won’t.

Big news coming…little news HERE !

Posted on June 14, 2014June 14, 2014 by heather

Grab a cup of coffee, I’m on my third, this one is a catch up long in coming…

After a week of storms, and a Friday the 13th wherein another storm featured prominently…especially, but not exclusively, the part wherein Anita, the wonderful helper at Snyder’s Sew and Vac, exclaimed that the torrential deluge, which we were all marveling at through the shop window, was POURING in to some poor fools’ open truck windows…yep, that’d be me…

anyway back to the point of entry…the stormy week…

has passed and this morning dawns cool and clear and absolutely blissful. An early walk around the garden reveals that the infant veggies have pulled off their raincoats and are quite ready to get back to the business of growing. Snow peas didn’t need no stinking slickers…they just kept right on and the first real batch was plucked into my t-shirt.

Then I walked under the arbor and was thrilled to see that we actually, after five or six years of waiting, have something resembling a real concord grape ! You will notice the avian anti-theft devices twirling in the background which seem to work just dandy to have kept the hungry spring beaks from plucking away the all important, and yes probably tasty, buds. Look hard, there are grapes there, dozens of clusters.

But seriously, the main event, for which I interrupted Herself’s bowl of cereal to insist she run to see…

MIMA’s Sour Cherry tree, “Sweet Lorraine”, has…or make that had…the first crop of sour cherries to bless this garden. Last time I had looked, there were some tiny green bobbles and the other tree, which was loaded with blossoms had none…so I wasn’t keeping close watch. I love those kind of surprises and they happen every day here in June.

So…if my garden is producing ripe cherries, the orchard just over the hill should ? Some Ritz ready made and rolled pie crusts were added to Pat’s grocery list…just in case. And a very tiny scrap of dough will be ceremonially wrapped around the tinier handful of Mima’s sour cherries for the inaugural bake. Maybe I’ll freeze them so Zoe can taste. These trees are for her after all.

OK – do you remember me mentioning Anita ? I’ll swing back around to her in a minute.

First, if we can focus on the day job…painting…

The long season of longer days and well into the late nights, as I worked to put together the paintings for the Granary Gallery Show…which opens July 20th…was wrapped up this week with the last brush strokes, on the last painting. It felt like months of straight on brush lifting but when I looked back in my daily journal it was exactly one month to the day, of 12-16 hour daily sessions, begun on May 9th and completed on the 9th of June.

Just a couple glimpses here as I wait for Mr. Corcoran to do his photographic magic for the big reveal…

The curve balls which were hurled at the studio over the winter do have me running about three weeks behind where I would like to be coming into the show season, and I have added an exciting adventure to the schedule …a real live show out in Santa Fe in October complete with the artiste in residence for the opening. More on that later…but keep your head up…that’s just the beginning.

The resulting creative intensity has correspondingly been escalating around here. And I have promised Herself and Myself to slow down enough to enjoy each other and every garden grace, and all the other mischief that my hands enjoy getting up to while they still can.
After watching the latest episode of PBS’s Craft in America, speaking of treasures, I have been studying the quilts made by the women of Gee’s Bend.( Here’s quick link, Quilts of Gee’s Bend but you can all do your own googling and I encourage you to dip away.) They are glorious, spectacular, and humbling works of art and the works by Joe Cunningham, who was featured on the show…mind blowing.

Like that…I have to quilt. No, I didn’t drag out any of the three or four projects “in progress”. Those bags are for later. I am too suggestible and, after seeing a tiny photo of some new fabric which Kaffe Fassett has produced, I ordered a fat bundle. You can see it in the background here but stop and smell my garden roses along the way.

Quick trip to Intercourse…no, the village in Amish country north of Lancaster, to the quilt mecca shop, somewhat disappointing as they had none of the notions I was there to collect. It’s just not the same when you have to order a tiny thimble online…but nothing, not even those storms…can stand in the way of this, my latest, obsession, which was held frothing in the starting gates until…the last brush stroke…AND my beloved and I had a wonderful day together, which is after all at the top of the list.

As Joe C. describes in the show, most of the time he has no idea where his quilt compositions will end up. That artistic license is essential to the creative process and it was important, for me, to be reminded of that. Seeing the free form quilts that he and the ladies have sewn, has passed down the “permission” to let loose.

No need for tedious marking and measuring and fussing over precision corners. The stitches should come from the heart. The color should pour from the soul.

My studio loft is the perfect nest for fiber arts and I was happily flying through the piecing stage..

until…the machine froze up.

And this brings us back…again…to Anita ! And Edith !

My newest angels, who are standing behind the fancy new machine which I went home with …in the middle of that storm. I googled “help my sewing machine is broken” and found Snyder’s Sew and Vac.

They all provided me with the best shopping experience I’ve had in this town in years, complete with plastic bags to cover those soaking truck seats (thank you John for that and all your good advice !). I love working with humans who know their stuff and when you thrown kindness and a good sense of humor in the mix…customer for life !

Now a new morning has dawned. The gremlins who taunted me yesterday are dismissed. The skies are clear, the cherries are ripe, the paint is drying, I’m one lucky woman and…your coffee is probably cold.

It’s time to get to work and every which way I turn there is something fun to get my hands into. I hope that is true for you as well.

And that big news… yep it’s coming. Stay tuned, stay frosty and live it large.

Tis the Season…

Posted on May 24, 2014May 24, 2014 by heather

Yes, I am painting.
Most of the hours of most of the days.
But the apprentice has lately been insisting on beauty breaks…

And, after the winter of discontent that we all shivered through, I am taking deep breaths of every single blooming flower in my garden..

My beloved Beach Rose and irises and even the daisy that always reminds me of J O’H

and, with a cart full of color, and a pair of sturdy gloves
I am taking full advantage of every single space between the brushes
to get outside and work in the dirt.

Herself chuckles and grins as she reminds me of the day,
sometime in mid-January,
when I hung my winter weary head
and swore I was not going to do ANY gardening this year.

Certainly no new plants, and definitely not the heavy lifting of the vegetable beds.
No, I was going to keep that head down low and focus focus focus on the paintings.
And right up until about March I was right on track with that dark pledge and doing fine.

Then some plague germs bullied their way into the studio and I spent the next few months crawling out of a very deep hole of un-health. (Spell check didn’t like that last hyphen and neither did I.) Which has thrown some curve balls of perspective at me.

BUT… the veil has lifted.
(Insert a choir of angels here please)
and all verdant bets are off…
Life is so damned short and…
you simply can’t keep a gardener’s soul from a wheelbarrow filled with marigolds…

And then there are those newly revised beds that I dreamed of through the wintery gauze of tissues…

and the annex to the asparagus bed that wants to try growing some beans this year…

Everywhere I look there are things growing…

And chairs that call to sit a spell…

or swing…

And so yes, I am painting, but I am also living large in the tiny corner of the planet that we are taming. And, when the brushes begin to whine, I settle back into my chair at the easel with a tiny token of the garden wonders to temp the muses…

May your paths be filled with clover
and strewn with beach rose petals…
now go out there and grab a trowel.

Mother Nature as Muse

Posted on April 8, 2014 by heather

So nice of Her to offer up some reference material outside the studio window…

to help me with what I’m working on inside the studio today…

What’s that I hear ?

Posted on March 5, 2014 by heather

This little pal has been very busy outside my studio window of late.

My numb and frozen digits can’t sense what her internal clock has registered.

But the switch has been thrown.

Clean up of all those storm downed limbs has begun…albeit on a tiny tiny scale.

But it’s a start, and judging by the monumentally increased activity levels…

the yard should be well sorted by the time I get to hang up my mittens.

Weave on my feathered friends…