“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


august 7

coming home tonight the sky was every shade of blue and gray, a hint of thunder in the far off background, and i wished for the first time in weeks i'd carried my camera with me.  the sun bursting bright and blinding in the western sky, white steeple against dark clouds, slate steeple against an eastern summer sky still blue with the afternoon. sidewalk with white poodle against green hedges, white chair in the side yard against the grass.

i am painting still, painting still,  feeling still as the color covers a door, painting doors to open new days.

dusk:  skye cat, the front door open, the sound of cicadas heavy in the air.  i have a broken thumbnail, down to the quick, blue painter's tape wrapped around my thumb to hold it in place.



  1. your words painted that picture, even without the camera.

    painting doors to open new days, yes, I like that notion, no, i love it.

    i have spent the last several days discarding, getting ready for a garage sale, and mostly it is all stuff you could never see, all out of sight in cupboards and boxes and closets, but now I can feel the difference, and it feels good. :)

    and oh, ouch, about your thumb...

  2. i feel the colours.
    i feel your colours.

  3. These words paint such a vivid picture.

  4. no picture perhaps, but the scene of it just the same
    through the words.

  5. Not that I'm bragging, but I used to be in the paint biz, and the longer I stayed in the biz the more kinds and uses for paint there were. And that was just the paint--then there were the painters. A couple different kinds--I probably don't have to tell you.

  6. When you are finished painting I hope it feels like home. Enjoy the evening air through the open door.


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