Summer of 09

How is your summer going? I am painting my giant Hollyhocks. They sway in the front yard of my 1860 home, warming by the morning's light as I write. They are calling to me, every day. It is a gentle call. We will be gone soon, finish the painting of us, our flowers bloom and climb up our stalks until the last ones high above your head will blink out of life and flutter to the ground. Like a siren from the sea, the garden's inhabitants sing to the painter.