Writings

RUNNING OUT OF GAS

RUNNING OUT OF GAS

RUNNING OUT OF GAS We idled, imprisoned in traffic on an anonymous stretch of expressway. Expressway is an oxymoron if ever there was one. The vista before us was a dystopian sea of rear ends, SUVs, sedans, eighteen wheelers, box trucks, and the rippling puckered air of exhaust fumes. At three o’clock in the afternoon…

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TRIXIE

TRIXIE

We would walk almost every day, my friend and I. She had a sweet little black cocker spaniel who needed walking and I needed the exercise as well as the comradery. The three of us walked down little-used roads, country lanes, and decrepit old tarmacs. They were ideal for our long rambles and perfect for…

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SQUIRRELY NEWS

SQUIRRELY NEWS

Maybe he suffers from some form of jungle fever. Or perhaps it is the effect of alien gamma rays on acorns. Who knows? Whatever the cause, the old cane chair on my front stoop has become an obsession for a neighborhood squirrel who obviously suffers from some form of dementia or delusion. My suspicion is…

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HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

HOW DID YOU DO THAT? I recently started posting my artwork on Instagram, and have found it to be a sort of memory-lane @ Deja Vu experience. Oils, watercolors, drawings, tesserae pieces, digital images, toons, and doodles, … you name it, they all hang out in my photo library awaiting an opportunity to be shared. When…

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DOGWOOD DAYS

DOGWOOD DAYS

My understanding is that when one practices the art of meditation while in the woods, stretched out on a bed of moss, one is Forest Bathing. Apparently, the sense of peace is quite profound. I am sure it is an amazing experience. However, as I am having more and more difficulty getting up from a…

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CELTIC CROSSES

CELTIC CROSSES

This photo was taken in Ireland, where weathered Celtic stonework remains as a permanent record of mankind’s encounter with capricious death. There are fields of them, those beautiful Celtic crosses. They all look the same but are individual in their beauty. They are evidence of the importance and gravity of death, and man’s recognition of…

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RECREATING ECHOES

RECREATING ECHOES

    Show of Small Works  –  Opening Night Reception It is a nasty night with snow icing up the roads and windows. The gallery is mobbed, awash with winterized bodies. Like anonymous bundles from Amazon clad in all- weather packaging, they pile up just inside the door, looking stunned by the sheer press of…

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IT’ RIGHT HERE OVER THERE

IT’ RIGHT HERE OVER THERE

I am currently having my kitchen floor replaced, and am living in what closely resembles Alice’s rabbit hole. (An appropriate metaphor as they started work the day after Easter, and my first line of defense against insanity was a chocolate Easter Bunny and carrot cake.) It turns out that all my carefully laid plans to…

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DREAMING IN ITALIAN

DREAMING IN ITALIAN

Last year at this time I was dithering about what I needed to do before we left for Italy. Granted the prospects of travel were diminishing exponentially every day, as the pandemic took hold of the world. But at that time there was still what we thought might be a sliver of an opportunity, or…

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SNOW EPIPHANY

SNOW EPIPHANY

For those of you out walking this afternoon, I will miss seeing you, but I did my walk earlier than usual so as to avoid the so-called SNOW EVENT that looms over the afternoon hours. Excuse me … what exactly is a Snow Event, other than an inane use of the English language? Why not…

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