Well, with your encouragement, I've published the book of posts!  It is nearly complete and will be available to ship in a week!  It includes 170 posts/170 pages made weekly from January 2010 through July 2013 reproduced in a paperback book. These include my paintings, drawings, photographs, prints, and poetry.  The posts are no longer available on line due to iWeb no longer being supported.  
You may order directly from me and pick up your book for 55.00 (cash or check) by emailing me lhadlock2@gmail.com or calling 207.837.0156.  If you would prefer to pay by credit card, the cost is 60. including shipping.
I am grateful for your encouragement and support always.
Cheers!

20X20  ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL  500.
Living things come in many colors, shapes, intricacies.  I love a garden that is what you might call overgrown--forms and colors visiting one another, creating a little chaos!  Each plant can have its own voice, but you might have to peak under another to find it.  It may not be the boldest colored that becomes your favorite.  It might just be creeping thyme along the footpath beneath the towering phlox that sings to you because of its sweet aroma and humble size, its longevity and heartiness.

This summer a friend told me his Dad said he had reached the "cellophane age". I had never heard of the "cellophane age" so of course wanted to know more.  His Dad felt like people looked "through" him now that he had nearly reached the age of 90, that people no longer thought he had anything important to say or add to their lives.  How sad! And how different from how I feel! The stories of lives before us are remarkable and inspiring.  The strength of character, work ethic, patriotism, is not something we should look through, but up at in admiration and open our ears to the music of their stories, the wisdom they hold. And remember to be kind for we will be there too one day. 

I'm sharing a little glimpse into the lives of some very dear friends whose story is tragic and beautiful, courageous and inspiring.  They are older, but certainly not to be looked through.

I just returned from a couple nights on an island with a friend.  No power, no roads, raw beauty. We canoed across a gut to get there and returned on foot across the same gut at low tide.
In my backpack was one night's dinner, my paints, brushes and two tiny panels.  I rarely paint small but, in a way, it caused me to be more intimate --with my thoughts and my subject and the painting became very soothing, like the rise and fall of the tide. Like all time on islands, it was too short, but then if it was longer, would I have brought so little, focused so intently and contentedly?


NOVEMBER ISLAND
can you hear the water
as it rolls ashore
laps up and over the stones
and recedes
only to return
moments later
and the gulls
as they glide  
over the treetops
moving back and forth,
tired from reaching for the sun
in their crowded turf
they sway
and creak
their voices, the gull's cries 
compete with the wind
following the fisherman's boats
returning with their day's haul
and the gray sky turns to black
the hum of their engines dissolves
into  
the quiet 
of soft spruce crackling in the cookstove,
of flames burning in lamps

Lhadlock 
2013©

NOVEMBER ISLAND 1 & 2   5"X5"  125./EA