My mother’s hands at nautilus teachings


As a little girl
I held the soft gold
of “God’s hands” in my heart
It was the first color
to be placed upon my palette
and would one day
be a guiding light
towards healing
and growth
Each time
I place brush to canvas.
My mother’s tools were her hands. Whether knitting a striped, long scarf for the winter ahead, sweater for my father or a dress for a neighbor girl who could not afford one for the Christmas dance, my mother’s hands were her gift. Every day my mother would rub the gold praying hands we had sitting in our family room.
Prayer was an implement of survival in our home. My father and mother were as devoted to the church as they were to each other. I loved the sanctuary and the basement where the empty classrooms lay waiting for all our cherub faces to take in the words, glory and love of the Lord.
I look up to Jesus
I smile and I say
“Thank you for being here,
Do you think I can stay?”
I love all the corners
Inside of Your church
And the basements not scary
I know I can search
Every nook and cranny
Of your oh so big HOUSE
And scamper and scurry
around like a mouse
Picking up crumbs
Of scripture shared
Of living in faith
I’ve no need to be scared
Your painting is in front of me
it hangs on the wall
Below you I kneel
And feel very small
But YOU glow inside me
I’m happy to say
That thanks to my parents faith
I now know the right way…
1960’s-Bishops Park is my refuge and a second place to grow my palette of colors and images which I know will one day come to life.
The park is sweet, grass green, mixed with soft powder blues and scented with the aroma of fresh picked linen white daisies. The tiny yellow mop headed wild flowers that pop up in spring tempt me to taste them. Suckling down the nectar like a bee, I taste honey sweet and pure.
Bishops Park is across the street from my pale grey house. The view fills my eyes with a spray of colors. In the morning sunbeams are like soft splashes of fresh squeezed lemons in ice cold lemonade. The white sun light reflects off of the soft, silky, salamander green leaves of the tall, weathered, gray barked oak trees and reminds me of the great white light I floated up too.
In the fall, the reflection off of the burnt umbers, tangerine oranges and mustard yellows form the illusion of tiny rainbows dancing in the soft, northerly winds of winter yet to come.
I am small
I am 6
How can you say
It was my idea?
How would I know?
How can you blame me?
I am so small
Why are you doing this
“I’m going to tell…”
I scream loud and long
I cry and I plead
Mom and dad are not home
He is picking up speed


I escape to Bishops Park. It is absolutely amazing in summer. There is an upper and a lower lagoon with a forest green, metal bridge separating the two army green bodies of water. I sit and dangle my feet from the bridge catching my reflection each time as I dream of being a fish and swimming so far away.
At the end of the lower lagoon is a waterfall to the underground tunnel. The water starts out in a sleek pouring from flat surface to downward spiral. The colors transform from muddy to translucent white with shadows of turquoise on the outer edges of the cascading currents. They look like a gentle wave crashing along the Atlantic shore of sandy beaches where I will one day live my dream.
The milky fern colored lagoons are surrounded by two apple green hills which are great for sledding on the soft, powder snow in the winter, hitting the sidewalk then skidding onto the frozen body of water. We ice skate here. It is fun to glide across the frosted ice to the center island unreachable in summer.
In the summertime, the hills can be quite steep and if I am not careful, I can slip and fall. There is a huge red barn and wooden pavilion where I climb the steps and run, circling the wraparound porch and peek in the giant reflective windows. Beyond the pavilion and lagoons to the left and across the small street is this little baby bump of a hill.
2008-Studio-My imagination is in overdrive and a smile is plastered upon my face as I begin painting today. Innocence, BFF’s, and water surrounds my memories about to unfold.