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  • a happy, ordinary, middle-aged, suburban woman who paints odd pictures, gardens in a straw hat, lives with the love of her life, is owned by one cat and the ghosts of several others, and walks a little funny 'cause she has a fake leg. She started this website because there's more to life than what we lose, and we need to let each other know what's possible, even if it's only a happy, ordinary life.

November 2011

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  • E-mail me at:

    sara at saraarts dot com

    Make sure the subject line of your correspondence is clear and specific. I do not open e-mails from strangers unless I can tell in advance that I want to read them.

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  • I Took The Handmade Pledge!

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melissa b.

The images and your description are gorgeous. Truly an enviable trip!

By the way, the way you get in and out of a canoe is not much different than how I (with two original legs) would do it. I'm positive you are far more graceful.

What do you see in that photo? I notice a little boy but I can't make out what he's leaning on.


Ah. Since I was there, it is obvious to me that the little boy is not leaning on anything, but rather clutching a piece of black fabric which soon after he used as a cape while raucously -- yet strangely not obtrusively -- playing pirates (ostensibly of the Caribbean) with his brother. Were the image reproduced at a larger size, you might be able to see this, too. Or maybe it got so Holga-fied by my love's cheap-o (but so handy) digital camera that the requisite separating details were not actually recorded.

This photo, though, and the painting I hope to make from it are not about the little boy, not exclusively. The key might be in the title, Rapt.

I will tell you other things. This play started at 6:00 in a tiny park which connects a major thoroughfare with an important parking lot. People walked through while the performance was going on. It being close to dusk, birds sang, including one particularly eloquent lark or wren right at 7:00, and squirrels busied themselves over our heads. Church bells went off every hour. Bugs bit us. A light breeze occasionally cooled us. We at the back enjoyed picnics, and occasionally actors in character would enter or exit through a gap in the bushes to our left, maybe speaking to us on the way as though we, too, were in Vienna awaiting the Duke's arrival. It really was the most delightful evening, including the performance, which you can see held our attention and thoroughly charmed us all, even while not separating us from the moment.

That's what the picture is about. The audience and the place.

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