Every wall is a door...Ralph Waldo Emerson
The things we surround ourselves with, in our homes, our studios, our sacred places, act to unite us with past, present...and future. The beautiful wings of Lyndon Baines, framed in weathered wood, remind me of his presence, brief as it was. A fountain no longer working is a remnant of my father's garden and acted as a drinking well for animals I loved but like him, are all gone. Lavender of last year's harvest urge me to imagine this year's purple haze to come.
I see these things each day, repeatedly, as I enter my home. The wall holds a door, and open to a refuge from the nonsense that can often swirl overhead. From the east coast to the plains to the oceans of the Pacific Northwest, this wall is always a door...for me.
