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Friday, September 21, 2018

His Mercies Are New Every Morning

Image may contain: tree, plant, outdoor and nature

The Steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.
His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning.
Great is Thy Faithfulness, O Lord.

Saturday, August 18, 2018


God has caused the flowers to blossom at certain specified times during the day. Linnaeus, the great botanist, once said that if he had a conservatory containing the right kind of soil, moisture and temperature, he could tell the time of day or night by the flowers that were open and those that were closed!

Old Point Loma Lighthouse at dusk

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. (Psalm 119:105)

All of Nature Sings Your Praises!

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”

All creatures of our God and King,
lift up your voice and with us sing
Alleluia! Alleluia!

You say tomato, I say tomatoe

An illustration done for one of my graphic art classes at Pima County Community College while living in Tucson 20 years ago. I was working towards an art degree but only got 2 semesters completed before moving to Virginia  It would be 18 years before i got back to art! This has been rolled up that long, thus the wavy paper. I think I remember this was first sketched in graphite to establish tones. Final done in Prismamarkers.

Leo Carrillo Ranch

Hebrews 13:14

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Two recent watercolors done on plein air outings with Patti Slattery

Carter's Hay and Feed (Watercolor Journal) 
June 27, 2018

Key's Creek Lavender Farm
 June 30, 2018

Saturday, June 2, 2018

Mystic Mist

autumnal blue mist settles
a mystic painter’s mixed colour palette
and something stirs in me
a mountain, veiled in mist and shadow,
painted by a forest's fragrance
and a temple
singing through its hollows
where only the wind
is left to worship
something echoes through the trees
leaving whispers in its wake
I walk the lonely path
not alone
ancient eyes are watching,
primal breath is stirring,
clouds gather in my bones
earth ever changing beneath my feet
a restless dance that goes on and on
as I get lost in the disorienting
swirls and wisps of water
flowing from the mountain