We drove home from dinner through a mix of fog and moonlight. They filtered through the trees in the mountains.

“Moonlight in Vermont,“ I said.

“This really looks like Halloween,“ said sing one.

“It’s like sleepy Hollow,“ said my husband when we got home. And it got me thinking why I love the woods when we are surrounded by nothing but misty moonlight, feeling like the soles of the people and creatures who have walked these hollows before are swirling around us.

I’m not afraid of the dark or what’s walking in it through these woods. The woods are spiritual, magical, and the moonlight glowing through the nearly naked trees just makes it easier to see.

Usually I put paintings up on Etsy as they’re finished, and the Itty Bitty Bookshelf gallery in here inventory stays under control. I’ve been holding a few back recently so that they can go to a month long exhibit there at Oldcastle Theatre this November in Bennington,Vermont.

The exhibit will go up in the first few days of November. There should be a reception which that will be announced shortly.  In the meantime, if you’re in the Bennington area, Oldcastle is open  10 – 5 during the week  and on weekends for special events and performances.

And it’s not everywhere, but if you’re in the mood to get touchy-feely with art, you can now also find some of my paintings keeping company with work done by oil painting legends including George Van Hook and Harry Orlyk at McCartees Barn in Salem, NY.  

And the scoop is the shirts are a little on the large size – I usually wear a – well, a larger size than I should. Anyhoo, the shirt in my normal size is large enough to wear over two other shirts and still be comfy. I’m really happy with the printing and colors.

You can get yours here.

I have a pretty healthy fantasy life. Well, maybe not healthy but active, anyway. It may come from a love of myth and fairytales where every part of the natural world is infused with a soul. Or it could just come from living in the middle of a forest in the middle of a mountain where I swear the voices I hear are from the talk among the trees and not just in my head.

Thing1, like many boys, fell in love with cars as soon as he was old enough to push a Matchbox car around on the floor. When he was two, he put his cheek to the ground, hunching over to study the motion of the wheels as he nudged it back and forth over a road that had been printed on a small rug. When he was five, he drew cars in profile, telling himself stories under his breath as he drew.  

The stories grew quiet as he got older, but I never forgot that, as much as he loved cars, my Thing1 was a storyteller. He was a writer. 

He is many other things too – a computer geek, a researcher, and a worker. And, when I’ve suggested he start a blog or journal about his research or his experience with chronic illness, he’ll often respond with, “I’m not really a writer.”

I don’t know where he got the idea he wasn’t. Maybe we all get a bad grade in an English class and convince ourselves we ‘can’t’ write. But, thankfully, curiosity and passion are waiting show us we’re wrong.

Thing1 is taking a gap year to deal with his illness. Choosing to put his health over his immediate education left him with an emotional void, and he’s been working to fill it.  He’s reconnecting with old friends and teaching himself new computing techniques. And, when he’s had energy, he’s been test driving cars. 

Most of the cars are way out of my price range, let alone his, but for 30 minutes, he’s no longer sick or feeling a void. For the duration of the test drive, he’s talking and reviewing. He’s telling stories again.  

Last week he started a blog with an eye to gaining the skills he’d need to do tech support for the people who make WordPress.  He discarded a few initial ideas of writing about nutrition or Ulcerative Colitis or even computers and decided to write his passion. 

He signed up for WordPress and, like your average teenager, had it figured out in 2 minutes, setting up a new blog called DrivingExperiences.net. Then he put together his first post and sent me a link.  As I read the post and heard him describe his vision for the blog, I realized he had found the silver lining in the gap year.  And I told him what I tell everyone I meet who is finally writing their passion.

“You were always a writer. You just needed to remember it.”

Not sure why but the trees Blowing Sunshine theme has got me in a weird but happy rut.

The Morning After, 8”x10” Oil

Storm blew through on Monday, and Tuesday morning I spent the hour and a half before work driving around to see how much of the foliage had been made casualty to the wind and rain. my favorite stand of Birch trees near the Equinox Mountain is more more naked. There are still bit of color, but with more rain and wind coming this weekend, we won’t be there for long.

A Hot Mess (sold)

this may be the last painting with lift up trees. Last nights storm blew through, and the colors on the pallet took on a more muted hue.

I love foliage season, but I have to admit Stick Season is my favorite. I love seeing the semi naked trees stretched out against the sky. I spent this morning sketching out the first painting of Stick Season. This one, A Hot Mess, is on its way to a new home on Saturday.

A Hot Mess (WIP)

There are some lessons about painting that have become abundantly clear over the last few weeks.

1. Every painting worth keeping starts life as a hot mess.

2. There is no such thing as going in to the studio to paint for a “little” while. Once you pick up that brush, you might as well kiss the day or the night goodbye and admit that you’ll be there until that hot mess is something you’d want to put your name on.