There was a big cupboard that smelled of moth balls and each time you opened it you were reminded of your grandmother's back linen closet or the sweater that she would retrieve to wear on Christmas. There were two loons calling in the late hours of the day and into the eves. I wondered why they hadn't moved on to the lake? The stillness, the quiet of the fog outside my screen window was sometimes interrupted by the rushing of water in the pipes or the flip flops flopping across the painted wood floor of one of my artist friends retrieving a sketch pad, grabbing a cup of tea, or a ginger cookie. The screen door would slam, not unpleasantly, as it reminded me of my childhood days and summers at our camp in Sangerville. Crows would look down and announce something. I'm always wondering what. Then there was laughter echoing throughout every corner of Nautilus Pt., especially the kitchen (where all magic happens). Daily morning runs with Katrina up and down the hilly roads with views of the harbor and Acadia, the mermaid shutter house included, were topped off with a brief, but exhilarating swim, clearing our minds and slate for a day of creating. And in addition to all this and the gift of time to paint, the moment that most brings a smile to my face is when I met a dear neighbor who obviously gets the most out of every day of her life of 80+ years and has a great appreciation for her surroundings and the people in this life. I had stopped to chat with her each morning when we first arrived, but hadn't yet met her husband. When I said "I haven't seen or met your husband yet" she replied, "You haven't met Francis?!... Well, you'll really like him, he's quite satisfactory!" May we all exude the same warmth and love and honesty when speaking of our spouse or family! My paintings above tell the story... the table is not yet complete; it's like a good book, I love working on it and don't want it to end.
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