Summer’s Last Hour, Summer’s Last Flowers

watchaug october iphotoimpressions


When October goes the snow appears.  Or so it seems.  The transition of a simple moment, one minute it is Indian Summer and the next it is New England dropping leaves and acorns and the skies turning a darker shade of grey and the wind and cold are coming over the lake with a vengeance.

Nonetheless, October remains one of my very favorite months.  I love how it comes in radiant in color and brilliant in shades of of yellow and reds and russets. I love the smell of the fallen pine needles and I am reminded that life is a cycle and a very short one at that.  If we are given one chance, how lucky we are to have had consciousness, and if we are given a second chance how special we must feel for not having lost it–yet.

October is about aging it is about having all the energy of June just older and wiser and a bit more crunchy.

October is a lesson a preparation for the eventual final winter that will one day arrive in the night and be the thief it has always been portrayed to be.  October is alive, but it echoes with a call from the wilderness that is unmistakable.


In the short amount of time that I am here, I am glad when October reminds me to appreciate the vestiges of summer’s last hours and summer’s last flowers.

Images of Galleon in St. Augustine


As I mentioned in the previous post, I pass by this 17th century Spanish War Ship each day that I cross from Anastasia Island to Cathedral Square.  I want to post a few more photo-impressionisms of this glorious work of art.  It is both beautiful and an architectural wonder.  Yet, we can not forget its purpose.  It was build to be a massively destructive war ship…so much for the fusion of desire and aggression.

But desire and aggression are not the issue this morning blog.  This ship is the center-fold.  Please enjoy a few more digitally crafted images of the Spanish Galleon.


The above image is from a dictionary definition of Galleon, a ship built for war.  Don’t you just love the art of pen & ink.  I do, a precise, clean, black and white and grey rendition of the world.

Speaking of black & white this is a photo taken at sunset looking west over the town.

Image 3

Here she is, as if ready for a sun set cruise.  What must it have been like to live on one of these or to be and Oar-man on one of these.  The world must have appeared very small and dirty.  Yet with the sun setting on her bow, she looks pretty as a princess ready for a ball.

IMG_4358I could post more shots of this ship and when I board her to get a close up, I am sure that I will add details.

The Galleon: between eternity and impermanence

The galleon is a 17th century type of sailing vessel from Spain.  One is docked in St. Augustine at the moment.  St Augustine is its home port when the ship in in this hemisphere.  I can not help but want to photograph this piece of ancient history that fits in so well with the ancient city ambience that St. Augustine offers residents and visitors alike.  I walk past the ship each time I walk to or from the town.  The Bridge of Lions connects Anastasia Island with the mainland of northern Florida.  From the island it drops you directly in the center of Cathedral-Basillica square.


I feel blessed each time I make this pilgrimage and when I look at the vessel docked in the St. John river I wonder for a moment–how many people have set forth into the world looking for themselves, finding all kinds of treasures and objects of affection in the process.

THE PROCESS:  between eternity & impermanence

The process is always the answer, because there is no avoiding the present moment.  The process is always present and though we may make a project out of finding it; truly, it always is and it always is, what it is.  Nothing can change that.  We are caught between eternity and impermanence and the only spirit that we can discern is the spirit of the moment as it passes from just a moment ago to now and eventually to what is not-yet-occurring .

Maria’s Cello

It must have been just over five years ago that I met Maria. I had been invited to an Artist’s Way gathering at the home of Mimi Sammis, the internationally know sculpture and painter. The groups sat in a circle, some people knew each other very well and others seemed either shy or perhaps, like myself, new. 
Maria began opening a huge large container. The case itself looked like a large violin. She gently removed the cello from the case and began to un-screw a spike like steel rod and fastened the location so that when she put the cello down in front of her, the instrument was at the perfect height for her bow to scan the strings in an arbitrary way until the tuning fell, itself, gently into a melodic, haunting voice that seemed to resonate from within. 
I was amazed–talent. i had always considered myself and artists without a talent; but something stirred in me that very moment. Soon that ember of joy ignited into a spark that glows today as my passion: to be an instrument of peace and to follow whatever muse indicates for me. 
It was a first monday of the month in september….and I have been evolving as an artist ever since that night of Maria’s Cello. The sound of improvisational cello, emitting from the voice of the strings, co-mingled with a creative spirit that beaconed me to let it awaken in me.

I liken joy to the consequence of loving. One experiences joy when one allows himself to love. Loving anything awakens joy. It is the natural order as sure as gravity is. And I loved that cello and as I did, I felt Joy. Joy then becomes the catalyst for the next dimension, creativity.Image



This photo, is one of a number of happy accidents. it is a hybrid. It might be a tree and it might be a bird. The tree was the original still that I photographed. But once I had developed the image in the digital darkroom, I could no longer see the tree. Instead I saw a sort of bird/man.
So, I began wondering how this creature, this bird-man like creature found his or its way into my painting. I studied it a bit more and put it aside for a day or two, knowing that I would get back to it, because I was curious. Curiosity for me is nearly a drive.