Remember to look the other way; sense what is lurking behind your back, what is over your head and what is under your feet. For a moment out on the island, up close with the grasses I heard them whispering about the state of things; the end of summer and the dying back of the plant . . .
It's been three and a half years now since I finally made the decision to live again the artist's life that I had dreamt of as a teenager. Even though for 20 years I kept the Artist's Way beside the bed, it was only recently that like a bolt of lightening it hit me, it was now or . . .