There’s a thread


oil on linen


sold through Edgewater Gallery on the Green

There’s a thread you follow.
It goes among things that change.
But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

— William Stafford
from “The Way It Is”

My friend — and fellow artist — Bonnie Baird took me up in her tractor, with
our paints and easels tucked into the bucket loader. We headed into the high
fields above Baird Farm, where the view is endless. I painted the view towards
my home in Proctor, and as I painted, the deer leaped and cavorted, and the hawks
warned that I was trespassing on their territory.