To
see the summer sky
is poetry,
though never in a book it lie
—
true poems
flee—
Emily Dickinson, c.1879
My summer...
I have spent many hours
sitting
in this front porch turquoise chair...
sometimes sketching van Gogh in thirty minutes or less.
[marker, sharpie, oil sticks & mineral spirits, q-tips]
I gave it the title,
Someone stole her beer so now she's even more depressed.
The sun
sneaks in.
An evening stroll down the hill.
August leaf drop.
Visitors.
Invaluable time spent.
Handstands with friends.
Summer in the city.
Riding the MAX.
Interesting compositions.
Cycling in the Columbia Gorge,
this has to be the greenest place on earth.
Bridge of the Gods.
A light summer shower = slippery cycling on the bridge.
Secret spots in the forest...
where I do quiet things...
things that soothe my temperament...
things that allow my breath to
replenish...
things like this.
Sailboat summer
breakfast.
Sailing + Dawn = a new relationship, lots to learn.
Gorge paddling on the Columbia River.
City kayaking on the Columbia River.
Ya know...
Now that I have all this listed I realized...
this is a typical summer week.
Once the rain sets in in autumn...
I will retreat indoors...
sorta.
o
o
O
o
o
Autumn = time to get back to making art.
[but that's not quite here yet]
o
o
o
O
o
