? Doing the paintings, digging so deep, Who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty four? ? Sixty four used to sound so far away (after all, I’ve been listening to this song by The Beatles since I was a kid—and yes, I made a slight edit to those lyrics!), and yet now that it’s here, I’m happy to say I don’t feel very old. While I don’t have grandchildren named Vera, Chuck, and Dave sitting on my knee, I do have Henry, Nico, and Lottie, and life is good. In fact, just last week, I had Lottie sitting on my lap, paintbrush in hand, while Henry and Nico ..read more

There’s not a month—let alone a day—that goes by that I don’t think about the strong women that came before us. Women’s History Month just gives us an extra reason to shout about them from the proverbial rooftops. My original plan for this month’s missive was to focus on the women artists who’ve paved the way for myself and other painters. (There are many.) But as I was sitting in the waiting room of FF Thompson Hospital in Canandaigua this week waiting for a blood draw, I saw a portrait painting of the formidable Mary Clark Thompson, and she started speaking to me. I closed my eyes and let m ..read more

It seems like ages ago now, but around the time that both my kids were researching and applying for colleges, my neighbor was also enduring his last days. The intersection of all of these monumental events had me feeling one way: Helpless. It wasn’t a feeling I knew what to do with. After all, I have always been someone who thrives on action. I like to have control; to have a game plan; to solve. These were situations where none of that was possible, and so I put my neighbor’s name on a card. I put the word “college” on a card. I put other things I’d been persistently worrying about on cards ..read more

Before we dive into today’s missive, I want to start by saying this: I believe that the universe conspires in our favor. I believe that serendipity is real. I believe our thoughts become things. And. I also believe that none of that works if we don’t. Whew, how’s that for a start? Now, bear with me as I share with you why this is top of mind, and important for the year ahead. For more than 25 years, I’ve successfully run an award-winning graphic design + branding firm as both owner and creative director. I’ve been able to help countless businesses across winemaking, tourism, manufacturing, no ..read more

Earlier this month, on a trip up north with my mom and sister, my mom asked us to take a detour to drive past her old home on her family’s dairy farm on Tug Hill in the Adirondacks. As we approached the land where she grew up, where she milked cows in the barn and tended the garden near her family’s modest home, she recounted a story of a Christmas past, one I could feel the magic in. One that reminded me of simpler times. It inspired the painting above, and it’s what I’d like to share with you today. In her words: It was approaching dinner time on Christmas Eve — the evening when Santa visit ..read more

I’m fortunate to be many things in my life: A daughter, a wife, a sister, a mother, a friend, a collaborator, a student, a teacher… But my favorite so far has been Cici, the name I’m called by my three grandchildren. Each and every time I’m with them, splashing in puddles, painting with smocks on, or reading stories, I’m flooded with love, with gratitude, and a deep remembering of how to play -- how to experience wonder, curiosity, and happiness each and every day. I was recently at my daughters’, reading with her and her two little ones. The book was Goodnight, Hattie, My Dearie, My Dove, il ..read more

I’m sitting here in the middle of a park in Bloomfield, NY, with the wind blowing, the clouds moving, and the leaves beautifully transitioning.  Yesterday, I held my baby granddaughter in my arms, feeling the love emanating from my heart to hers, and vice versa. Last week, I traveled to the Hudson Valley for a retreat where I meditated, went on many hikes, and watched the sunset from a sky top tower built in 1921. It all seems surreal, and I’d be dishonest if I said I wasn’t utterly confused. How can I experience a cocoon of breathtaking beauty as others around the world experience horri ..read more

My heart started beating a little faster when I heard it: The sound of the geese flying past my house, on their way south. I was sitting on my porch this morning, candle lit, wrapped in my favorite afghan. With my eyes closed, my heart could feel what my ears were registering, and for that brief moment, it wasn’t my own thoughts. It was the realization that this is the first time I’ve heard the geese. It was the appreciation that the morning is growing darker with each day that passes, and the chill in the early morning air is increasing. It was a reminder that the season is once again changi ..read more

We were sitting on the porch of our cabin in the Adirondacks last week when the sky grew dark and the wind started to pick up. My phone had pinged me earlier with a tornado warning for the area, but it could not have prepared me for what came next. The lightning struck, followed by booms of thunder that shook the ground. Tucked between huge pines, we took cover inside as the rain started pounding down. Alongside the fear that crept in as I realized the power of the storm was an extraordinary amount of awe at what nature is capable of. Just days before, I was in Canandaigua, painting a scene o ..read more

In a recent episode of We Can Do Hard Things, Glennon Doyle did a 1:1 interview with writer Maggie Smith, where they spoke about betrayal, the truth, and reclaiming ourselves in a world that encourages the shaming of women who dare to tell their stories. As I became enthralled with Maggie’s story, what struck deep down in my core was the fact that she kept writing throughout every curveball she faced in order to hold on to who she is. Earlier this month, I was standing amongst dozens of my high school classmates from Lowville Academy as we gathered for our 45th class reunion. I haven’t been a ..read more