Monday, August 30, 2010


How does it feel to take your first delicate steps as a ballerina in public? Last week I was on vacation at the sea shore, but before I went I had the delightful experience of seeing my beautiful grandaughter, Emma, in her first ballet recital.    

Friday, August 20, 2010


How beautiful is the lowly pea.  Packed in their own disposable container, picked fresh from the vine, a crunchy sweet treat.

Thursday, August 19, 2010


This painting was inspired by my daughter Anna's new blog Anna's Edible Adventures.  The blog is all about cooking, gardening, bee keeping and even raising chickens, which she does in her Mount Airy back yard.  She is a real hand's on gal, a great cook and gardener... and it turns out she can write too!

 As luck would have it, she has an article in today's Inquirer about
Pizza made on the outdoor grill.


Tuesday, August 17, 2010


The light seems to be magically focused on my vegetable garden.  It  can  use all the magic it can get this year.  No string beans, few tomatoes, no egg plant and only two cucumbers.  Anyone else have a poor year?

Thursday, August 12, 2010


I got this view from some good shots of South Philly sent to me by my dear 
grandson, Luke.   The telephone lines make it look like a painting from another era.  The sky is a bit brighter in the actual painting.  

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Here I was drawn to the way the color of the oranges affect all the other surfaces, even the shovel.


Monday, August 9, 2010


These are the reflections from the light over my hospital bed in the window looking out into the blue night.  Develish to paint, but I could not resist the way the light sliced into the buildings and held them together.

Saturday, August 7, 2010


Here is a quiet spot on Harbor Road in Prince Edward Island, Canada.  I've been off on a virtual trip again as part of the virtual paintout.  From what I could see if you want to do nothing but look at the sky and drive down some empty roads, this is the place to do it.  Check it out yourself by clicking on the tittle and when you get to the map, drag  the little yellow guy in the upper left hand corner around to view the scenery and cruise the island to your heart's content.

Friday, August 6, 2010


My garden has been completely taken over by these bizarre beauties.  They are not only very hardy, the foliage smells like a musky mint when crushed and it can be made into a medicinal tea.  For more info click on MONARDA.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


In a couple of earlier paintings I noted that my dog Jake was a 'poser', always getting into the picture. This is Bay, his buddy, who is just the opposite.  He doesn't seek out the limelight but stays near me most of the time, and couldn't resist a peak at what I was up to. 

Monday, August 2, 2010



I have always enjoyed the surprise of experiencing old things in a new light.I remember the first time I became aware of this was when I was a child at the end of a vacation in Ocean City.  I spent the summer at the shore in those days, sitting on the porch of my grandparent's house staring at the long horizon of the bay. There was nothing but open sky, cool breezes and the sea.  At the end of the summer we went home to Philadelphia.  In the car as we came to the city I felt suddenly plunged into a fulsome growth of foliage, the beat of cicadas and the humidity of Philadelphia's throbbing presence. This same presence had a short time ago felt simply like home.   I had not experienced it at all.  It simple was.  It was such a profound moment that I still remember its impact.  

I had a similar experience on my return from the hospital after only 4 days. The first morning I woke up in my home bed I went tentatively outside.  I wanted to get out there before the day went into the 90s.  My medications had reduced my blood pressure to the 'stand up and feel dizzy zone' and I wasn't sure if that was okay, so I was a bit shaky, but was drawn by an aroused perception of things.   I walked around my yard in my bare feet in a state of awe.  It was as if a veil had been lifted from all my senses.  I was there, truly, in a way I had never been before.  I was a part of nature and yet still able to experience it.  I sat on my porch watching and feeling the birds, squirrels, insects, flowers and trees for at least an hour, transfixed by their life and glorying in that life.  I don't know if it was the joy of being alive after fearing death, the sensory deprivation experienced in the sterility of the hospital, or my medications, but I can only say that If we could hold on to moments like these and  be in such a state of heightened awareness we could live a hundred years in a day.