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Thank you for your recent note about missing out on one of Kathie’s pieces… especially the red-topped barn down on Concord. It is indeed a sadness that flames overtook that place.

Stepping inside a house of hay and livestock opens all your senses. As a kid I remember a muffled quiet out at the barn on Dale Ridge. The light would sliver its way through the single-layered boards and the wet pungency of animals would wrinkle my freckled nose. I was drawn to this place like ants to a picnic. Kathie too.

It must have to do with the way these old dinosaurs honor Mother Earth. As they sit royally on the farmer’s hill. As they rust, rot and reenter the ancient soil beneath. Or, as you put it, return ashes to ashes, dust to dust. These spots are sacred to her.

So in turn she works (yes, painting is quite hard work) to honor what is sacred before the inevitable occurs. She is an acolyte addicted to preservation and beauty, offering a dim but true rendition of dying things-almost-gone… a reverence of sorts.

Together may we learn to honor not only these sacred places but also those showing the way.

Peace to you,

BuddyO