Monday, September 23, 2019


I'm back!

A little collage - maybe finished, maybe not...needs butterflies

Thursday, June 20, 2019


Wow! or maybe Bow wow!  After 6 months absence I am back here with Stitch, Jorie's neighbor's pet, now deceased. Little guy succumbed to a sudden illness and my Grandboys requested this portrait they want to give to the bereaved. RIP Stitch, and thank you for waking up my muse!

Thursday, October 18, 2018

I cannot believe I skipped September!!!

Thursday, August 23, 2018

Thursday, August 16, 2018

Queen of Soul is Dead - Long Live the Queen!!!

This is a sketch from March, 2012 done from her appearance on the Sunday Morning Show on TV

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Angel of the Desert

In making this totem my vision was of a migrant wandering lost in the desert picking things from the desert floor to fashion a spirit guide. I used bones and snakeskin I found somewhere years ago - and the guidance of Ruth Dorn in one of her Totem classes yesterday.  She knows how to attach anything to anything and make it secure!

Peaceful Warrior - 2015

Unnamed - 2014

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Their Toys

Many, many years ago when the Beaumont kids had grown and gone, I resurrected their broken toy pieces, made this wreath and sprayed it gold.  In those days gold spray paint was the first "go to" for creative Moms. For a long time this little "work of art" has hung on my bedroom door, gradually collecting mermaids and dust.  I think it belongs here.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Like Alice, 
I am tall or small

and falling, change like leaves to gold.
Arriving at the Hatter’s Tea
I smile, and chat, and quite agree
no one has ever seen me old,
and yet I’ve grown.

And you are there at chess with me
although I never learned the game.
We bow and change from square to square,
trying to see beyond the board.
Nothing’s the same.

Then I am on the path alone.
The Cheshire smile is fading fast;
the rabbit’s clock is running slow.
I don’t know where I need to go.
Still I watch the plot unfold,
just because I’m never told
what’s happening next.


Friday, February 9, 2018

the Bay - 1954 Poem

(not my photo)

The Bay - 1954

We swam in the bay
on one of the nights of the phosphorescence
stirring the cold fire around us
shaking the essence of prophets
in finger lightening
at the sky

And everywhere the frightened fish
appealed to comets
in the sign language of falling stars

Reentering the world
on finless feet we stood a while
in clammy underwear 
watching the night taking shape
falling into place
around us

And suddenly we all got dressed
because the hungry light of human skin
cannot succumb to sorcery

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