In the meantime I am re-posting a pastel painting (March 18, 2014) which got a little revision. I just couldn't keep my sticks of pastels away from it (happens all the time).
Lake View on the Rail Trail
Pastel on Canson Mi-Teintes Drawing Paper - 16 x 20 unframed $150/ 18.5 x 22.5 framed $250. If you are interested in buying this painting email me at my gmail address: lizdayedwards
By the way, I found a blog the other day while looking at art work on Pinterest. I had discovered it while re-pinning a little sketch by Beatrix Potter that they had posted. It is a really fun blog. (A Poem A Day From the George Hail Library - Selected by Maria Horvath) It features art and poems and it reminded me how much I love poetry but don't read it often.
Here is one of my favorite poems:
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Source: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989)
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Source: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989)