Blackberry Pickers at Ladysmith 2001

When I was on Vancouver Island in late September 2001 I visited a park in the town of Ladysmith. An opening adjacent to some of the pines revealed a couple of acres of the blackberry bush. Their long and thorny canes grabbed and made tearing sounds at my clothes as I brushed by with my painting things in hand. I found a place soon after and began to paint this oil. Late in the morning berry pickers showed up with buckets which they began to fill up; they'd be part of this composition now. From the forest two playful chipmunks showed up and like tight-rope walkers entertained me. They avoided the thorns and with their little paws held those dark purple fruit and munched away. The robins and wrens naturally didn't want to lose out; as they'd want to have their fill too. I never forgot the sweet smell of the ripening blackberry which permeated this area of the park and my clothes.

The Oak Street Bridge 1993

I love this view of the Fraser River that is represented in this pretty oil. These structures all situated near one another were used by my ancestors, relatives and even myself. That interurban trestle bridge from the early 20th century is the way people from the other municipalities would travel closer; at the many nearby stations they would board a trolley car then a bus and finally reach Vancouver. In 1959 it all ended and the attractive Oak Street Bridge was soon open for use, people would travel now in their vehicles. All still remains except for Bridgepoint Public Market, where I shopped for my produce, it was built in the late 1980's and abandoned in 1992. Around 2001 its History was Lost and demolished and a casino was built; it attracts some undesirable elements of society and looks unfinished. An eyesore alongside the Fraser River which many people never look at or talk about anymore. I'm sure after it has served its purpose that property will be flipped, then torn down, hopefully something beautiful rises again on that site.

The Wreckage 1998

Cast a Shadow on me,
I feel your gift,
I am now the mortal and I paint this image.

The large cedar stump which lived once on another shore was cast away,
Just like I.
Of whom was a mere figurehead on some mystical medieval ship,
Worshipped and sculpted from oak.

Maybe a Patron,
Or nobleman which sees many visions,
From another world to which many others dare to breath,
May have been awoken from a dream which all of us resist.

I know I broke away from my berth like you,
Once upon a long,
long time,
And I have washed ashore as well.

The storm of relentless abandoned swept my body adrift,
Into a passage unknown,
Just fortune sent me alongside your wreckage.

Soon another storm will set us in motion,
And the water of colours,
Which Expressed by the Artist,
Only can feel the depths of life.

Sisters of the Peony Garden 2003

Glances of the elusive damsels,
Have entranced the petals.
Only the peony flowers will lure the sisters of this garden of mystery,
Closer to my window as I observe their spell.

Is it the giggling laughter of those young maidens,
Or merely the hush of the seasonal winds,
Which seem only to transcend in the Spring.
What pretty flowers,
The apparition of youth and rebirth perhaps sends me back to dreaming,
That time of a life well worn and that path weathered down,
But travelled without regrets.

Mother of this Earth,
Your messengers,
I have decided these young garden women must be,
Reveal yourselves to me and ward off the faeries, leprechauns, sprites, and
Other mystical incantations of human belief.
You occupy this space and leave your beauty and fragrance,
Amongst the flowers in my earthly room.

And I am always saddened when the chills of autumn arrive,
As the lovely sisters of the peony,
Dance a final fluttering au revoir,
To the lovers of nature.
Blowing sweet kisses to the aging blossoms,
And the cascade of the mottled,
Brilliant colours of beauty,
Fall...
To...
My...
Heavy...
Heart.

My Bully Girl, Cynthia.

Once upon a time a family lived happily without a care in the world; I'm sure it's just like your families out there too.

Then suddenly everything changed.

Have you ever had a Bully?

Our family has a naughty neighbour girl who keeps harassing my little girl and making her cry.

The joy of this book brings us laughter, as while our family was in one of those inner-city parks; guess who crept along one of the trails?

It was Cynthia, rude and strangely behaving, she was hatching a plot, and a scream from my little one was soon heard.

We were followed by her and that wasn't very nice. She's been a naughty girl this year and I'm sure Santa Claus won't be giving her a Christmas gift.

She was shooed away and my bully girl ran off with her cute toy dog and we laughed at her strange taunts.

I'm sure you've had your own bully...our bully girl Cynthia, moved out and was never missed.

And we lived Happily Ever After.

The End.