Young Maple Tree 1993

They would'nt give you a chance to grow in that lot,
Eventually it would become your muddy gravesite,
Another green space destroyed without conscience,

But I know what I must do,

A replanted saviour,

Safe place for you to grow,

Even around these urban eyesores,
I know of the many protected parks,
No one would dare disturb you now,

It lives now in Lighthouse Park,

Thrives uninterrupted with its beautiful growth,
Gives a home to the animals,
And shade to the park visitors,

As well as the air,

To all whom wish to breathe and respect life.

Wildflowers of Langley 1996

When I was hiking at Campbell River Park I came upon a wildflower field.

It was so beautiful and I began to pick the wild harebells, phlox, milkweed, and queen anne's lace.

This watercolour painting in a sturdy glass vase captured that moment; and those wildflowers I still remember how wonderful they smelt.

The Seated Pretty Little Girl in a Blue Jumper 1995

This pretty little girl is so smart,

Cute,

Well behaved,

Posed in the seat for me so patiently,

A lovely child,

And she is now a young woman.

Winter at Lupin Creek 1995

When I went to Vancouver Island in the winter of 1995, I stopped off at Strathcona Provincial Park. I've known about Lupin Creek and the snow was wet, sticky and waist deep in some of the drifts. The accumulation of snow along the banks of this beautiful creek never stopped me from venturing over it and down to the creek side. This oil painting was done quickly. As it was cold and with the wind picking up, became much colder with the wind chill. I'm pleased with this painting and feel it has expressive energy. In the clear and reflective waters they contained lots of leaf material. At Spring and Summer one can find salamanders, frogs, small crayfish, and salmon fry. The surrounding forest has all the visitors from the stellar blue jays, redheaded woodpeckers, owls, and the songbirds all sweetly singing high-up in the oaks and maple trees. Eventually the waters of the creek cascade over Lupin Falls.

About the Sails 2005

I feel your invisible force across my weathered face,
Ever changing elements,
A power only seen when your presence is tethered,
Could that be merely a cerebral thought,
The cloth buckles and wails and shows what its catch would embody,
People have created the colours so unique,
But my palette would blush from within its many underlayers of hues,
All together shimmering and worn by the moist particals of motion,
I love the speed in which you drive the vessels,
The marriage of the rigging, mast and booms; along with the dancing, flowing drappery,
Would appear to be the only movement on the ocean,
Perhaps instantaneous are the Sails,
And on that worrying shore,
Only your motionless adornment remains.

Wild Rabbits of Richmond 2009

Exquisite wild rabbits dashed about the land,
If only those heartless people loved and respected their pets,
Instead they found their cuteness very short-lived,

Every living creature grows to adulthood,
Some people treat others in the same way,
Casting them out to fend for themselves,

But the cruel have even thrown away their babies,

Some humans behave like animals,

The warmth of the day overwhelmed me,
I dared not to rest as a dream would begin,

A sudden fear came upon me as I hopped around,
Finding my form no long familiar,
But transformed from a Man to a Rabbit,

I was now in that nightmare chased and badgered into anguish,
The others somehow that moment; in this cloudy dreamland were impartial,
No one cared but fed on leftover red berries and greens,
Ignorant munching and we all very alike,
Except the colours of our fur were of different shades,

I, trapped in that body of a bunny,
And now been chosen for culling and I cared,
If they only knew how human I once were,

We're not worthless but living beings,

The rest had been hit about the head,
Shot at,
Or shocked into intrepidity,
"Run bunnies run!",
I squealed in rabbit talk,
"To our burrows",
But it was to late,

A smash to the back of my head,
The tears along my eyes awakened me to a moist conclusion,
And my sealed lids began to lift,
That parkland in Richmond materialized into a mirage of reality,
My head hit back to the trunk of the tree,
I had dreamt upon moments earlier.

Dusk at Beacon Hill Park 2001

Desperate shades of reflective light,
Bounced playfully,
Turning all which would reciprocate the game,

That soft orangey glow,
Played like a sequence of trembling colours on the waters of the pond,
The oak leaves saluted the flickering light,

Only the people and ducks knew dusk had arrived,

A time of reflection and the closure which would ensue,

The air now was delicious and cooler and one could breathe,
A better composition resulted from that fleeting realm of time,

The atmosphere soon had more changes,
Midnight blues would exchange greedy embraces with the hues of life,
Longer shadows emerged distorting the faded landscape,

And all that is Alive would prepare for eventide.