Working on Notes Art Week 2017

Hello Blog!

On the verge of fall and I’m reliving last summer, lost in the manuscript I’m putting together from notes taken on Great Spruce Head Island. Who knew that 7 days would produce such a fount of writing?! And re-arranging. Memories.

I have here at my fingertips photos saved to the Google Cloud and all I need to do is search the World Wide Web to pull up a Fairfield painting. It’s all here—yet not.

Melancholy sets in as the weather cools, the late season garden fades, colors dropping onto the walkway. Worse is the wind scattering seeds, bending stalks and stems. I’m getting older. When, how does this happen?

We say good bye.

John Ashbery—I saw you this summer on the path, on the west porch in late afternoon when gold lasered through the leaves and lay slant on wooden planks. You were there in turpentine rags, oils, varnished into this mind.

I return, to word sketches. Scenes of Great Spruce Head Island.