Morning Palm
This freshly trimmed palm growing just over our fence greets me every morning, I thought I’d r...

The funny thing about this painting is this was the visualization I had of the first house I owned, a nearly dilapidated post-war house in Grants Pass, Oregon. A mean oak tree had buckled the driveway, lifing it three feet from the ground, and threatened the converted garage foundation, there was nothing but a three step stoop, by the front door, and the door was actually a delaminated mahogany interior door that was thin as paper.
Two years later it looked almost exactly like this, without the driveway slab but with a square step, rail, and porch railing, every brick carefully laid by my own hand.
This freshly trimmed palm growing just over our fence greets me every morning, I thought I’d r...
On a recent travel we were at an AmTrak station with many quaint decorations and brickwork. Almost u...
Humans have always tried to make sense of the random firing of synapses that occurs when we sleep an...
Watching a woman at the mirror in the morning is a bit like watching someone meditate, the careful, ...