Marguerite Jill Dye Artist/Writer

08/03/2024

Building a Killington Dream Lodge part 23

07/28/2024

MOUNTAIN MEDITATION
Steps, a 60-foot window and sleeping in sheets
By Margeurite Jill Dye
Building our Killington Dream Lodge, part 22

Vermont was the best healing balm for Dad’s cancer and my Argentine trauma. Our spirits were truly at home in our Dream Lodge where my parents had just moved upstairs!

I ran up the real steps (the slanted ladder was long gone) and let out a cheer when I arrived in the great room. Although not quite finished, and still sparsely furnished, I was in awe of its magnificence. A 60-foot expanse of glass framed by wood revealed enchanting mountain views of Pico Peak straight ahead and Killington to the left through the treetops. We were inside our Killington Dream lodge but it felt as if we were outdoors.

Mom was reupholstering a bulky sofa-day bed with fabric we’d bought at a New Jersey outlet. An over-stuffed burgundy antique chair and Italian side table completed Mom’s vignette. A game table topped with a Venetian jigsaw puzzle waited for us to put it together. (Our puzzle table was on our wishlist for decades). A dining set was near the kitchen and more furniture would be hauled north. To sleep upstairs in sheets (not my sleeping bag) was an extreme luxury. We had running water, even hot and cold, in the kitchen and nearly-done bathrooms where repurposed sinks and vanities had been hooked up.

My brother Billie helped Dad from afar, sending shipments of 2-4-1 tongue and groove plywood for the roof decking all the way from Oregon. He supplied WoodCraft for the ceiling from his own company, K-D Wood Products. Billie helped source the beams from a demolition in New York City. Dad adorned the ceiling by placing them in an attractive contiguous pattern between the 15 beams. The wall in the middle divided front and back where two small halls, four bedrooms, and two baths were. Most every wall was clad in lovely lumber. It was thrilling to admire Dad’s handiwork and the heavenly views out vast picture windows and even the bedrooms in the back.

I left Vermont once again, most reluctantly, to continue my work at Pace Memorial United Methodist Church for our Mission Intern Program, Phase 2. All of us had served in human rights hot spots (where governments didn’t want us to be, documenting their abuses). Speaking engagements throughout the state about what I’d learned living under Argentina’s military dictatorship was an important message to convey, especially with the role the U.S. was playing. But I relived my terror and sadness whenever I related my experiences. I cried easily and often. I was broken and wondered if I’d ever be me again.

I began counseling to overcome shock and depression from two years in an unbearable situation. I was suffering from cognitive dissonance and felt responsible, as an American, for the people’s suffering and oppression.

My counselor advised I do something I love, so I painted to lift my spirits. I took my first plein air landscape class at the Virginia Museum. Nature became my nurturer and muse. Inspiration surrounded me everywhere. Plein air painting was my healing art and a Divine form of creative mediation and prayer.

My minister introduced me to a man named Chad at a Virginians Against the Death Penalty rally. I assumed we had similar world outlooks, but when he shared his thoughts, I couldn’t believe my ears. “I must be misunderstanding your English since I’ve been speaking Spanish a lot,” I muttered.

Soon, I realized Chad was a one-issue liberal and a serious Libertarian. I wasn’t certain what that meant but our values and perspectives were diametrically opposed.

He invited me to attend the first Chinese Embassy reception in Washington, D.C. to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China on Oct. 1, 1949. Kissinger, Bush Sr., dignitaries, and other diplomats attended the momentous event that signaled the opening of China to the world. I met several fascinating people from China and the U.S. Our conversations were dynamic about changes in China, our U.S. policy, and how vital friendship and understanding are for world peace. I felt encouraged about China’s future. The Cultural Revolution was in the past.

Back in Richmond, it was time for a break up. When I broached the subject, Chad threatened to kill himself. I raced to his apartment, fearing what he might do. He wasn’t there. His rifle was missing. I was in a panic. After hours of distress, it turned out he was safe. Chad wanted to scare me to change my mind. He definitely did. I most certainly didn’t.

“No,” I told myself, “Enough of this craziness and instability. Most of my boyfriends have been unsuitable. I am ready for a serious relationship with an honest, caring, ethical, intelligent man I’ll admire and be inspired by his commitment to humanity.”

I didn’t realize my plea had been heard. The Universe had introduced me to my life’s one true love at the Chinese Embassy reception that night. I didn’t recognize him when we met, but it was our fate. What a magical Cosmic plot!

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Killington and Bradenton, Florida. She loves to hear from her readers at [email protected].

07/28/2024

Building our Killington Dream Lodge, part 22

07/08/2024

July 3, 2024, Mountain Meditation, The Mountain Times
Hospitality near and far
Building a Killington Dream Lodge, part 20

On frequent weekends and vacation, Dad added sheathing to the outside walls, second hand windows in the bedrooms, and new Portland Glass picture windows across the front of our Killington dream lodge. Sturdy repurposed wooden doors from N.J. offices graced our house. (I helped when here, but sometimes joined a boyfriend hiking and skiing at Killington, Stowe, Pinkham Notch, and Mount Washington when he drove up from Montclair.)

In the fall I left for Brattleboro, an hour and half drive south of Killington. The International Career Training Graduate Program began with six months on the campus of the School for International Training, part of the Experiment in International Living. A year-long internship followed, then three months on campus as the grand finale.

My classmates had vast experience overseas in the Peace Corps, C.A.R.E., the United Nations and other human service organizations. Cross-cultural experiential exercises trained us to observe and be sensitive to other cultures.

By Marguerite Jill Dye
– Collagraph
We examined social justice and Third World needs like safe water, food security, rural healthcare, education, cottage industry, sustainable development and refugee resettlement. The goal? To design replicable solutions that respected and involved diverse populations in impoverished communities. Our intensive program was enlightening and challenging. It improved my critical thinking skills and dramatically expanded (and overturned!) how I looked at the world.

I returned to Europe for an internship in Germany as assistant director of summer programs and receptionist at Schiller College headquarters in Schloß Kleiningersheim (Little Home of the Kings). The castle was perched above vineyards overlooking the peaceful misty Neckar River.

I practiced German and French every day, answering calls and greeting visitors. I also proposed and helped plan summer programs. Dr. Walter Leibrecht, brilliant theologian and educator, started the college as an alternative to German higher education after his son’s friend committed su***de. Qualifying tests for university were so stressful and difficult he created what became Schiller International University, a haven for students from many nations on campuses across Europe and in Dunedin, Florida.

Dr. Leibrecht sent me to share my Schiller experience at international schools across Switzerland before Christmas. One weekend between visits, I drove up from Zurich to a hamlet past Einsiedeln where a small ski area stood. On the way up the twisting mountain road, a light snowfall turned into a blizzard. I couldn’t turn around. The road was too narrow. I could barely see so I crept along as darkness fell.

Through the snow in my headlights, a faint yellow glow appeared. I stopped to see what it was—fortunately, a Swiss farmhouse. I banged on the door. It opened. I entered into the warmth and said, “Guten Abend. I’m looking for the Einsiedeln youth hostel.”

“Gibts keine. I’m sorry. We have no Jugendherberg. You are welcomed to stay with us.”

by Marguerite Jill Dye
– Alpine View, watercolor
The kindness and hospitality of those total strangers, an older couple and their young grandson, meant far more than a bed to me—refuge from a dangerous storm, bitter cold, and their heart-felt friendship.

Snuggled under a down comforter, I admired the chalet’s wooden ceiling and walls, reminiscent of our dream lodge back home. Sometime soon we’d sleep upstairs, too, and dream of the snowfall on Killington’s slopes.

I skied the next day near their chalet. The sparkling fresh snow and cobalt blue sky reminded me of Vermont but the powder was deep, there was no ice, and the altitude was higher in the Alps. We bid “auf Wiedersehn” after supper, and promised one another we’d keep in touch.

I spent Christmas with Hans and his family in northern Germany, then I joined Christine and Herbert in Austria for New Year’s festivities and a formal dinner in Schloß Eggenberg (now a UNESCO World Heritage Site). I danced the polka and Virginia reel on Styrian television with the governor.

I missed my parents far away but treasured new memories with my European “families.”

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Killington and Bradenton, Florida. She loves to hear from her readers at [email protected].

Plein air watercolor, gouache and collagraph by Marguerite Jill Dye

06/30/2024

Building a Killington Dream Lodge, part 19

06/20/2024

https://mountaintimes.info/2024/06/19/graduation-milestones-and-outlooks/

Building our Killington Dream lodge, Part 18

06/12/2024

Building a Killington Dream Lodge, part 17

06/07/2024

Building our Killington Dream Lodge: Part 16

06/04/2024

Building our Killington Dream Lodge, Part 15

06/02/2024

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer to divides her time between Killington and Florida. Her family built an early "Killington Dream Lodge" on two acres of land near the beginning of Roaring Brook Road off Killington access Road. Jill Dye recounts that adventure.

05/22/2024

The Mountain Times, COLUMNS: Mountain Meditation by Marguerite Jill Dye
Europe or bust but it didn’t seem just

Building a Killington dream lodge: Part 13

Dad was focused and totally devoted to building his Killington dream lodge each weekend. It became his life purpose and passion to build his heart-felt legacy for our family. His dedication was inspiring to behold.

Mom was committed (they were still married) but she had other interests, as well. She saved up money from teaching piano and planned a grand European adventure. Dad didn’t want to go along. He had lived abroad as a child and traveled in Europe with the Naval Academy. He preferred to save his two week vacation from Foster Wheeler Corporation to work on his beloved ski lodge.

My brother Billie attended Bates College in Lewiston, Maine but was in France for his junior year.

“My major was skiing,” Billie liked to joke from Grenoble in the heart of the French Alps.

His written and spoken French greatly improved, too. He was a ham when he spoke Français. He even had that French “Je ne sais quoi” and was asked directions by the French in the street.

Since Billie was already in Europe, Mom decided “it’s now or never” so moved ahead with our travel plans. She researched, orchestrated and crammed 12 nations and three principalities into six weeks.

She purchased a Volkswagen Rabbit from the factory in Germany for our neighbor in Montclair. Billie picked it up when he finished his studies then crossed the English Channel and drove to Southampton to pick us up.

We crossed the Atlantic on the Aurelia, the smallest ocean-going passenger vessel which Billie had also taken. He called the Italian student ship “a 10 day floating house party.”

Mom was the senior belle of the ball. Everyone knew her and wanted to speak with her. She was the only mother aboard. I was 14, a rising high school sophomore, but the college students thought I was their age. A friendly boy invited me on a date for dinner and a movie shipboard. I was elated, dressed up, and wore makeup. I felt like a grownup and had a ball.

We Dyes never made long distance calls except in an emergency. We sent postcards describing our adventures and how we wished Dad and Jack were there. We could imagine Dad in Vermont weekends working on projects with a friend he invited to accompany him so he’d be safer with the construction.

Our European trip went by so fast you’d miss a country if you blinked your eyes. It was a whirlwind tour like Doris Day’s “If It’s Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium.” I reveled in our thrilling voyage but also felt it wasn’t fair. It didn’t seem right we were traveling in Europe while Dad was still working and my older brother Jack was in Vietnam.

Mom needed our European sojourn then—as a distraction from the constant worry. She was stoic and didn’t show fear. She carried on as if things were normal.

She later admitted, “Every time the phone rang or someone knocked on the door, my heart stopped. My nerves were shot for the two years Jack served in Vietnam.”

While studying forestry at the University of New Hampshire, Jack was in the ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corps). Upon graduation, he entered the Army as a lieutenant (and later became a captain). He trained in parachute jump school and jungle warfare in the swamps of Georgia before he was sent to Vietnam.

Jack wasn’t fighting. He built bridges and roads in the Army Engineer Corps. But he wasn’t spared the violence and terror of serving there during the war.

“We couldn’t distinguish Vietnamese people from the Viet Cong in our compound, so we never knew who was friend or foe. We were stationed across the street from Vietnam’s largest ammo dump. Explosions were frequent. When they occurred, I dove under my thatched-roof hut onto the ground. I’ll never forget the day I found an anaconda staring back at me.”

Jack was blessed. He came back alive but was forever changed. When he heard a car backfire on the street, he dove under his bed, ridden with anxiety. Like other soldiers throughout the ages, my brother was traumatized and never quite the same.

Jack joined us in Vermont before beginning his new life. He was impressed with Dad’s progress and helped a lot. Vermont became his special retreat for peace and solace surrounded by nature. Jack taught me the names of trees on our land and returned most years to help Mom and Dad.

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Vermont and Florida. She can be reached at: [email protected].

05/18/2024

What an enjoyable, relaxing day yesterday at The Island Crêperie. Our friend Carol Ann joined me for lunch after my lavender painting demo. We talked about Steiner, the Waldorf School, and a poetry reading we plan to offer at the Crêperie in the fall. A lovely couple expressed interest in a painting of Florida and a boat on the Mediterranean. 🌴⛵️🌴⛵️ My exhibit is mostly down for the summer but I’ll have another one in the fall after painting in France and Italy. I presented Laetitia with a miniature of The Island Crêperie at 127 Bridge St. in the 💓 of Bradenton Beach. 🌴💓🌴
I look forward to seeing you again in November!!

05/15/2024

Tomorrow will be my last day this spring painting and signing books at The Island Crêperie. Please stop by to see my 40+ paintings that I created en plein air in France. You’re welcomed to join me tomorrow for brunch between 11-1:30. All of my paintings are for sale and are original works of art. Thank you very much for your patronage. Have a blessed summer.

05/12/2024

I look forward to celebrating Mother’s Day with friends at The Island Crêperie! I plan to indulge in Moules and frites (mussels and French fries), one of my favorite treats in France 🇫🇷. Joann, Graciela, Joe, and Alice (if she gets my message in time!) and my hubby Duane will all reminisce about our wonderful mothers and our favorite global adventures. We’ll dine with a view of my paintings of France and enjoy celebrating our friendship. Happy Mother’s (Aunt’s, Sister’s and “Other Mother’s”) Day wishes to friends and family worldwide! Bonne Fête des Mères!
🌸💜💓💜💓💜💓💜💓💜💓💜🌸

05/10/2024

Yesterday was special at The Island Crêperie. A lady was laughing while reading Mom’s book, “A Smile, a Chuckle, a loud Guffaw,” then said, “I’m treating myself to this for Mother’s Day!”
Next a dad came by with his baby fast asleep in a stroller. He flipped over “Where is Sam?” and bought it to read to his three kids that night. He gave me $10 extra. I said “This is too much.” He said, “I want you to have it.”
“Thank you so much! It will come in handy. I want to paint again in Europe.”
Then our super neighbors Sandra Filer and Kim Coffman arrived to enjoy lunch for us. I took them on a little French tour in tye Crêperie through my plein air paintings, then we savored French cuisine and dynamic conversation.
Next Thursday is my last painting demo and book signing this spring so please join me then. I’ve so loved sharing my art of stunning places all over France and will leave some
smaller paintings up, available for purchase, over the summer.
May 16, demo/book signing: 10-12, lunch follows. The Island Crêperie is open Wed-Mon, 8:30-1:30 at 127 Bridge St. in the 💓 of Bradenton Beach. All of my work is original and one-of-a-kind.

05/09/2024

The Mountain Times, Mountain Meditation: My first driving adventure with a Vermont learner’s permit by Marguerite Jill Dye

Building a Killington Dream Lodge: Part 12

While building our ski lodge in Killington, we worked very hard but there were perks, too. One thing I loved most about Vermont was what I discovered when I was 13. Since we owned property, I’d qualify to apply for a learner’s permit when I turned 14. (In New Jersey I’d have to wait until I was 16).

We began driving lessons in Killington Ski Area’s spacious parking lot. It was a perfect training ground—mostly empty when not in ski season (decades before mountain biking arrived). Mom taught me in our long Country Squire to turn around, back up, and parallel park (much easier in a deserted parking lot than under pressure with other cars near). Power steering helped me but the car was 17.5 feet long!

One day, Mom told me, “When I was a girl, I started to drive when I was twelve. South Dakota had many farms far from the nearest towns. Kids needed to drive to help out on the farm and in case of a family emergency.”

Once I learned the driving basics, Dad taught me to handle his 1955 Willy’s Jeep. He bought and restored it in New Jersey, then drove it to Vermont’s Green Mountains to climb steep rocky roads (like our driveway). The grey vintage vehicle stood so high up, it didn’t scrape any rocks underneath like our station wagon did daily. But the Jeep was challenging to drive with its temperamental stick shift and stiff steering wheel. Once I managed to climb aboard and get the hang of using the gear shift, I could move forward in spurts. Exploring the parking lot in the Jeep felt as if Dad and I were on an expedition to explore an exotic destination like a Himalayan outpost or Alpine wilderness.

Once my April birthday arrived, we drove to Vermont from New Jersey a day early. I was eager to take the driving test in Rutland and receive my learner’s permit. I was nervous. It was a big deal, but I’d studied and practiced (harder than in school). My hands were sweaty in the car as I followed the instructor’s commands. I managed to back up the Country Squire without flattening the parking cones. The written test was a cinch. I’d practically memorized the driver’s handbook. I passed both exams and shouted “yippee!” I had my learner’s permit in hand. I could drive—only in Vermont—with any adult with a driver’s license. I was elated and ready to go on my very first driving adventure with a friend.

Ann arrived for our very first painting outing en plein air, on location in the open air. I would drive for the very first time without Mom or Dad in the car. We loaded our lunch and art supplies and took off in the station wagon. We bumped down our driveway scraping the bottom, crossed Roaring Brook Bridge to the Access Road, then down the mountain on Route 4 and followed the Ottaquechee Gorge and River Valley.

Dark clouds had gathered and suddenly let loose with a loud and thunderous pouring rain storm. I was on high alert and turned on my windshield wipers and lights. We crept along the winding Woodstock route then veered off. I don’t know where. The remote dirt road led to a spot where we had a great view of a deserted farmhouse with outbuildings and barn. I parked along the side of the road, turned off the car and took a deep breath. Driving in a storm was exhausting. It was still raining, so we stayed in the car.

After a snack to regain my fortitude, my art mentor, Ann, taught me to draw using perspective with a vanishing point. She showed me how to draw from near to far, and how to depict distance. She trained in art at New York’s Pratt Institute and often shared her art knowledge with me. Ann is the reason I became an artist. She inspired me to take creative chances and follow my heart to do what I love. My perspective lesson that day has served me for decades throughout my career as an artist, teaching and painting en plein air, on location everywhere.

After our class in the pouring rain we’d each completed a watercolor of the farm. I was happy. We’d accomplished a lot, and fortunately the rain had stopped. We devoured our sandwiches, then headed home, chatting (although it was harder to concentrate while talking). I was engrossed in driving and conversation so was quite startled when the car began to sputter.

We were headed up steep Route 4 past Ann’s house near River Road, the Little White Church, and (former) Killington Post Office. The car sputtered some more so I pulled over. It gave out a gasp and completely turned off. I switched on the flashing light and pushed down on the emergency brake. I was afraid it might give out due to the steep incline. “What happened? What’s wrong with car?” I asked Ann without a clue.

Ann studied the dashboard and asked with experience, “What does the fuel gauge read, my dear?”

I peered at the needles then stuttered, defeated. “Oh no, it’s empty! We ran out of gas!”

The skies were rained out so I walked up the road to the sheriff’s house which Dad had pointed out. I knocked on the door with trepidation, but Mrs. Towne opened it with a smile and said, “Hello. How may I help you?”

“Thank you,” I said. “My gas tank is empty. I ran out of gas a little down Route 4.” I felt guilty and stupid but she simply nodded and called to her husband who appeared at the door. I was star struck. I’d never seen a sheriff (other than t.v.’s Andy Griffith and Matt Dillon). Sheriff Towne fetched his gas can. We crossed Route 4 and walked towards the car. I was wondering if we had sheriffs in New Jersey.

“I can’t believe this happened to me on my very first drive with my learner’s permit.” I was so embarrassed my face must have turned red.

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Sheriff Towne said with a twinkle in his eye, a chuckle and a smile. “I bet you’ll check the gas gauge next time!”

He was right, except for once. In my 59 years driving since then, I only ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere near Devil’s Tower, Wyoming.

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Vermont and Florida. She can be reached at [email protected].

05/09/2024

Tomorrow our wonderful Renaissance creative neighbors Kim & Sandra will join Duane & me for lunch at The Island Crêperie after my painting demo & book signing. They are such fun & jazzy friends! It will be another great day at my favorite Crêperie.
Stop by to see my painting exhibit of my favorite places in France where I love to paint en plein air, on location in the open air. Demo & book signing 10-noon then lunch tomorrow & next Thursday. 127 Bridge St. in Bradenton Beach. Wed.-Mon. 8:30-1:30.

05/08/2024

What’s Up at The Island Crêperie?
Thursday painting demo & book signing tomorrow & May 16, 10-noon.
An original painting created on location makes an unforgettable Mother’s Day gift! Marguerite Jill Dye’s 40+ plein air oils & watercolors of France cover The Island Crêperie’s walls for two more weeks—the Côte d’Azur, the Luberon, Collioure & Mont Sainte-Victoire are a few of the beautiful places. Come catch the exhibit and stay for delicious French cuisine 8:30-1:30 Wed.-Mon. 127 Bridge St. in the 💓 of Bradenton Beach. You may join the artist for lunch at noon after the demo if you like.

05/03/2024

Watching the Killington Community Grow, The Mountain Times, May 1, 2024

Building our Killington Dream dream lodge, Part 11, Mountain Meditation by Marguerite Jill Dye

We began to build our ski lodge in 1958, the same year the Killington Access Road was built and the mountain opened for its first ski season. Preston Smith who began it all lived at the end of Roaring Brook Road, about a mile past the land Dad bought under 6 feet of snow.

When we arrived, we forded Roaring Brook like pioneers in the olden days. But soon after, a bridge was built. (I preferred the more exciting old fashioned way.)

A few years later a brand new firehouse was constructed beside the bridge. I remember the first Fireman’s Picnic on the Fourth of July, 1964. It was held on the firehouse driveway. We gathered together at picnic tables with pot luck dishes that we shared. Our firemen grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. The celebration was lively and fun. We took a tour of the two story interior and had a chance to catch up with friends. Many of us were building a house. There was much to compare and discuss. We were happy and proud to be part of Killington’s growing community. That was the start of the annual tradition of Killington’s famous Fourth of July cookout to help fund our volunteer fire department. Nearly all of us have been helped in some way by our wonderful firemen and women, often in times of our greatest need.

Courtesy KPAA
A view of Killington Peak from April 28, which was the last day K-1 was open for the season.

Walter Gropler, our next-door neighbor, arrived before we did from Connecticut. When he moved full time to Killington, he took photos of skiers up on the mountain. He was also an excellent nature photographer. He and Dad often helped each other solve their construction problems and woes. I loved when Walter joined us for supper. He was as sensitive and kind as could be and was like an uncle to me.

The Wises and Findeisens, other early arrivals, were building their houses and real estate business. I recall visiting with them at a house on the Telefon Trail when they had a 2-year-old.

Across Roaring Brook were Jean and Barry Lete with their daughter Jordan and the next house up was the Ayer’s Clan. A few years later Jane and Charlie Hanley and their family arrived. They built their authentic large log cabin up the road on the “Bear Highway.” Over the years, other neighbors became friends as our Killington community grew.

Mom wrote articles for “The Mountain Times” about building our ski house and local goings-on. Our saga was more entertaining in writing than how living it felt at times. She shared her stories with friends in New Jersey who couldn’t believe what she put up with. I enjoy continuing the tradition Mom started of sharing our Killington experience with you.

Thank you readers for your comments—our former Sarasota neighbor Dick Robbins wrote he learned more about me in my recent column than in all the years living down the street). Mary Ann Glynn (Ann Wallen’s niece) wrote she and her brother attended the Priors’ camp. My niece Jennifer Dye Visscher recalled staying in our lodge at different stages of its construction. Ellen Johnson, a spry 85-year-old, sent a hand written letter about her inspiring life journey. She feels we think alike. Thank you, my readers, for sharing your thoughts. What is your favorite Killington memory? I would love to know.

Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Killington and Bradenton, Florida. [email protected].

05/02/2024

Another fun day at The Island Crêperie!
I had a ball creating this painting in ink and watercolor—not quite done yet. Also loved meeting young families and art lovers who returned to revisit my art and dine on delicious French specialties. I hung a watercolor of the Côte d’Azur I started in France and completed this morning.
I look forward to the next two Thursdays when I’ll return to sign books and paint. I hope you can join Duane and me for my painting demo and book signing from 10-noon May 9 and 16, and for lunch right afterwards. Come dine with a view at The Island Crêperie!!My exhibit of peon air paintings of France is up until the Thursday week in May. 127 Bridge St. in the 💓 of Bradenton Beach. 🏖️🌴🦩🌴 🏖️ Special Mother’s Day paintings will be on sale next Thursday!!