Category: Their Stories

Monday, Monday

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When my daughter was in elementary school, it was pert near impossible to get her up and on her way.

After one particularly challenging morning, I wrote her a poem:


Monday, Monday
What a bummer
How much longer til it’s summer?
So up I got and off I went
Cuz summer won’t come until the school year’s spent.


Funny thing about poems. Here it is, 20 years later and she and I both remember it.

As soon as I finished this painting, I knew her story was in that poem!

Monday, Monday
Monday, Monday


Just for the fun of it, here are some of the process pics of her.


Stay Amazing!

Categories: Paintings Their Stories

Holding My Breath

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Way back in January…remember January? Going out? Being with friends? Hugging them? Toilet paper?

Way back in January, I did an art show and the woman in the booth across from me was fabulous! I was fascinated by her and her steampunk top hat. It took me all day, but I finally got up the courage to ask if I could take a picture of her. She was my muse.

In that funny way the universe works; marrying disparate items, events and emotions, Holding My Breath was born.

Holding My Breath

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In 2017, Hurricane Irma came through leaving downed trees and water, water everywhere. Along with the rest of my property, my chicken coop was flooded and my chickens were stranded in there.

Dressed in black construction bags for pants – the duct tape held them up – and kitchen dish gloves, Husband waded into the coop to catch my terrified chooks. The chickens were squawking, the husband was swearing and I couldn’t stop laughing.

He assembled a temporary coop that sufficed until we could get out for the bits to create a better solution as it was apparent that it would be quite awhile until they could return to their coop -three months to be exact.

Husband proceeded to build the Taj Mahal of coops. The plan was to have something on wheels that we could reuse should we ever flood again.

Once the waters receded, the plan was implemented: Attach the coop to the tractor and pull in behind the workshop into the chicken run. Easy peasy, right? Wrong! This beauty with its pressure treated lumber and cedar shingle roof was not to be moved. No way. No how. Off came the roof and various other bits and finally we were able to drag it behind the fence.

Fast forward to 2020 and the creation of the new studio.

All those shingles, plus another full pallet that hadn’t been used were still in the building. I knew immediately that I wanted to paint on them.

As I worked through this painting, the news worsened. Any interaction with anything from the outside world made me feel like I could feel the germs crawling on my skin. Still does. I can’t possibly wash my hands enough.

We’re all holding our breath right now. Better days will come and there will be more muses to meet and deep breaths to take.

For now, there’s art, there’s sunshine and for today, still toilet paper in the linen closet.

Stay safe my loves. As my mom always said, “This too shall pass.”