Slow Motion

Slow Motion

Oil on Wood

10"X22"

There was almost no wind yesterday when the ICs raced around in the Western Way. The air was soft,  the sea glassy, and everything moved in slow motion.  A few ripples ruffed up the water where the spectator fleet was milling around. It felt like a dream. The good kind from which one wakes feeling calm, content, and quietly hopeful.

Summer Breeze

Summer Breeze

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

As I was heading for a ferry Wednesday afternoon, a stiff breeze was blowing through the Weibel's house signaling their imminent arrival. The simple beauty stopped me in my tracks, taking me right out of my self and back to the island and its healing powers. 

Since then the weather has turned wet and gray. I was reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire last night to go hear poetry and music at the church, where neighbors of all ages  read and sang and spoke from their heart.  It too healed the body and soul, as did the friends and neighbors who cooked and called while I was down for the count over the weekend. 

We come here thinking we are alone. Turns out, you know that thing about "No man is an Island?" It's true. Island is about community. 

Grey Day

Gray Day

Oil on Wood

6"X8"

After all the sunshine, it was a relief when the fog rolled in and everything turned gray. A day later, spirits became soggy and we were wondering if summer was gone for good. Today, things are looking up. High Tea was served at the Community Center this afternoon, benefitting the island library. Hats and food and tea and conversation accompanied by live music will brighten even the darkest mood. And the sun is out again. Icing on the cake.

Lavender Laundry

Lavender Laundry

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

It was so hot this morning I didn't feel like moving. But after a lazy morning at home, Rosie and I did manage a long walk to the post office followed by a new short cut through a neighbor's woods where I came upon a few ripe blueberries to keep me going. The first I've seen. 

Lavender laundry was blowing in an ever so slight breeze. Laundry is a personal matter until it becomes an object of art, at which time it becomes an island treasure. 

Dinner with friends followed by a bike ride on a moonless night, fireflies in all the meadows.  Summer on an island. There's nothing like it.

Roque Island

Roque Island

Oil on Wood

12"X12"
SOLD

This morning was a little too windy for rowing so I picked up "Writing on Stone, Scenes from a Maine Island Life" and read on the deck awhile instead. I met the author, Christina Marsden Gillis on the airplane this June. She was reading my all time favorite book, Nicole Krauss,' "The History of Love,"so I chatted her up and discovered she and her family spend summers on Gotts Island and had written a book about it. Alone with her words, thoughtfully chosen describing the island, its history, life, death, family. All that matters is there. It felt like a gift to have connected with her and this book.
The rest of the day unfolded as in a dream. Rosie and I sat on the beach watching the seagulls devour last week's leftovers. Then we walked to the post office. The postmistress and I commiserated about our phones being out of order and I got so riled up I forgot to mail my letters. Then someone fell overboard while docking a boat. Saved by the boatyard boys, I was reminded how quickly everything can fall apart.

A long afternoon in the studio was the most productive yet. Now for some more reading and a good movie or two. (In honor of Nora Ephron, I watched "Heartburn" last night. And then, Bill Nighy in "Page Eight," a BBC thriller that I highly recommend.)

Looking Across the Pool

Looking Across the Pool

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

Soaking in summer. Warm. And everything has a yellow glow. It won't last. Which is part of the enjoyment. 

Looking Back 2

Looking Back 2

Oil on Wood

10"X10"

Another in the end of the island series. Actually there are 4 or 5 of them now. I just haven't gotten around to posting them. 

As for me, I am not looking back. Nor forward. Just being right here where I am which is a pretty good place to be.

Last night I stumbled upon the you tube video of David Hockney- Painting the Tunnel. Best lesson I've ever had. Just watching him paint. and the great sound effects of his Wellies in the muddy water underfoot. I went to sleep dreaming of what today would bring.

And then it began, early this morning, in the middle of the path on the way to the beach, a beautiful turtle sunning itself. Felt like a good omen for sure.

Rosie and I went for a row. Soft, silky water reflecting a cloudless sky. Ever so slight breeze. Death and dying were on my mind, having read Rebecca Dana's touching account of Nora Ephron's memorial. I share Martin Short's belief that when people die, "... they zoom into the souls of the people who love them most.” I thought of all the loved ones I carry with me. My parents and grandparents and friends who have gone. And those who are ailing that I hold in my heart. More. Always more. The sadness that settles deep down, but also the sheer joy of having shared their lives. 

I wondered if one could explode from the fullness of it all. 

The Sailors Head East

The Sailors Head East

Oil on Wood

8"X6"

The sailors headed down east this morning, setting the spinnaker, looking magnificent as they left our harbor. It was a day made for sailing. Wind and sun and sea a deep deep blue. Rosie and I sat on the beach watching them go. I did some errands, visited a few people, and as usual when everything is suddenly quiet, took awhile to settle into my coveted time alone routine. 

Evening at the Sullivan's

Evening at the Sullivan's

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

Today I finished reading Stephen King's,"Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption." Such a great story and deep down touching at the end. "Remember that hope is a good thing... maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." And this: "It always comes down to two choices. Get busy living or get busy dying." Oh boy did I ever need a dose of that right about now. Not unlike an evening at the Sullivan's, always a reminder that life is for living and friendship is at the heart of the matter.

4th of July

View From Gail Perry's

Oil on Wood

6"X8"

An impromptu pot luck midday included a reading of the The Declaration of Independence among other things. The sun came out and then it rained and sometime later the fog came in thick. We managed a dinner invitation that included children, an unexpected arrival, a dog that performed tricks, fresh picked clams, lobster, and a blueberry pie I can still taste. Island living at its best.

End of the Beginning

Looking Back

10"X10"

Oil on Wood

Finally. We are here. The getting settled and sorted takes longer than anyone ever remembers. Nothing works and then it does miraculously. Either that or the sun comes out and it matters less. This view belongs to neighbors who will be moving to the other side of the island. So this is the beginning of an end for them.  Tomorrow I will paint their view again. New light. New tide. And me? Always a beginner. 

Really, isn't that true for all of us?