![]() With the return to the live classroom I’ve been drawing and painting less. My porch continues to feed me with a steady diet of love and peace. The naming of “La Carpinteria” – the CarpenterĮxpedition observed the Chumash building plankĪll too soon it was home again home again jiggety jig. Oral tradition holds that this tree survives from Which it will share with weary travelers in need of some grounding. If you venture to Carpinteria, do make time for a jaunt to see the Portola Sycamore. Working life makes these breaks all the sweeter, so in a way I suppose I’m grateful for the balance. ![]() Rocky Nook Park in Santa Babs has perfect benches for journaling and sketchbookery. Here we are exploring Rosemary Lane, home of a splendid group of Moody sister cottages.Īnd here again is our Carpinteria cottage. Walking, writing, reading, eating, and arting. ![]() We were practically outside from dawn to dusk. How good it was! How good this entire pandemic sabbatical was! How lucky to work from home for an entire year! We stayed in a darling cottage close to the ocean. My seaside retreat in late March with sister was heavenly. Patio lunches are over, but summer is around the corner. Where I’m smart enough to know I have it rather good. Too many mistakes, not fast enough, bad attitude, foul language, disrespectful towards authority. I did, for a brief time in the late 70’s find a job at a Levi Strauss Factory where I labored long and hard to sew up the crotches of mens’ jeans. Still, I could have been born in a different century and forced by necessity into a factory job, or coal mine, slaughterhouse, steel mill. Working stiff life is incompatible with my true nature. I’ve said it so many times it doesn’t bear repeating, but I will anyway. It is alas my sketchbooks that grow lonely. I fill my pockets with flowers when I walk, then press them in my car’s thick manual I keep on the front seat, and eventually transfer them to my writing journal, into which I make daily deposits as usual. What follows is life as seen through the lens of my sketchbook since last I posted. But here I am on a fine Saturday morning in May, to finish what I started last month. Which, as you know, tends to take up enormous pockets of time. I was waylaid you see, by my porch, books, cats, walks, and living in general. Now I sit down to tap out this post which was meant, as the title implies, for April. I am here with a postcard from home, where I have been after my seaside holiday with Sister at the end of March.
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