Isn’t the ability to look back a wonderful gift? I turned 65 while in New York, and the sense of a life lived has been upon me. We cannot know what lies ahead, but we can (mostly) remember from whence we’ve come. The sketchbook is my doorway, rich with memory, at least for these past 8 years.

I told Greg recently, if I get so old I don’t remember, just pile my sketchbooks nearby. That should do me just fine.


Bas de Page


The medieval work sneaks in when I’m not looking. Eyes Wide Open says, “Let me play, too!”

We spent a day (of not sketching) at the Antiquarian Book Fair, and I felt so rich from it I bought myself a page of a 13th c. French bible, the filigree of which I’ve been practicing.


And, a sunny Sunday at New York Botanical in the Bronx. On the Bronx River. It was a lovely slow day, the cherry trees in bloom, azaleas in the forest, and the first peony.

Whan That Aprill


Yes we have had April Showers (Chaucer called them the shoures soote or ‘sweet showers’) here in New York. And now the sun is drying everything off. Cherry blossoms drift down like snow. Robins and starlings scrabble for nesting material in the dry grasses left over from winter. I hope spring is springing hope for everyone out there in the northern hemisphere. Go outside! Smell a flower! Listen to a bird! (I’m talking to myself now.) …

(P.S. Greg says I’m crazy for churches. What do you think?)

Compass Rose


Greg and I invented the “Compass Rose Day” several years back. It works very well around our town, allowing us the opportunity to discover new things in old places – places we’ve been, explored, driven by, but never truly gotten to know well. So on a Compass Rose we dig deeper and much more slowly. In response to my need to slow down, we set out to spend a day in NYC at our pace. It was worth it.