March 28, 2020 Years ago I bought a little blue ceramic fountain. It sits on a side table I sprayed with gold paint when I lived in England, and now lives in a glassed-in porch here in Raleigh, North Carolina. I come here each morning as soon as I wake up, light some candles, plug in… Continue reading Coping with Covid-19
Author: Kathleen Hall
Quarantine, March 21, 2020
We’re living in a different world now. It’s a quieter world. The Canada geese who winter here in North Carolina bleat their hoarse songs with no competition from the thick throb of truck engines. The tiny Carolina wrens slice the silence calling for mates and the occasional passing car offends the hush of a world whose… Continue reading Quarantine, March 21, 2020
The Grapevine
Greasy air oozes out when we open the door to the truck stop cafe. Cigarette smoke, grilled hamburgers, burnt hash browns, and perked coffee replaces the frosty air outside. Men in plaid wool shirts hunch over thick white ceramic plates of food, heavy jackets draped over chair backs. Ashtrays hold smoking butts. A few… Continue reading The Grapevine
Another Remembrance Day —
I watch from my window as the man who lives across the street emerges from the green door of his 17th century home. He is slightly bent over, but walks briskly, dressed in a neat, pressed black suit instead of the old gray anorak he usually wears. Bernard and I follow a few minutes later,… Continue reading Another Remembrance Day —
Happy Pills
Something amazing happened last Valentine’s Day. I was listening to music a friend sent me- and I started to cry. Real sobs from the gut, unstoppable. And I hadn’t cried like that in a long time. That feeling artists sing about, the yearning, the total immersion in the beloved, is so ephemeral, and ultimately, too capacious… Continue reading Happy Pills
Noise
Antigua, Willoughby Bay. The waves here are gentle. They slide in, nestle against the sand, pause for a millisecond, pull away, only to return, relentless, like love-struck suitors who can’t stay away from the beloved. The trade winds bump against the palmetto leaves, which rattle and click against each other, gossiping,whispering, never still. These… Continue reading Noise
Paradise – lost it –
Or very nearly. Returning to the villa after a placid morning painting in a tropical garden, I stumbled on a stair and fell on my face. The groove for the sliding front door broke my free fall, leaving a gash in my forehead as a souvenir. I blame inappropriate footwear and two bags of painting… Continue reading Paradise – lost it –
Antigua – Painting with Tessa, March 2018
Trade winds are blowing hard this morning. If I were a sailor, I would be busting a gut to be out in it, but as I am here to paint the scenery rather than sail through it, I could do with a gentler wind. We are four women staying in a beautiful villa on Willoughby… Continue reading Antigua – Painting with Tessa, March 2018
Bluebells
Bluebells It is bluebell time in England. The slender, dusky blossoms appear in late April or early May, after the snowdrops and crocuses have gone back to sleep and before sun loving, more vivid flowers bloom. No red, yellow, or orange interloper interrupts the cerulean swath carpeting the forest floor. This mild spring day Joseph… Continue reading Bluebells
Finding My Way….
The air wrapped around me like cool silk. As I walked it warmed just enough to hint that the sun would be stronger in an hour, but not hot, not today. Warm, fresh air with overtones of sage and warm cement wafted around me. The sensation of this winter day transported me to my high… Continue reading Finding My Way….