A whole field gathered into one armful — poppies, blue flax, blazing star, and roses leaning every which way, loose and unhurried. Named for the three that remain: faith, hope, and love.
Somebody has handed you flowers like this. Not arranged — gathered, in a hurry, because they wanted you to have them. You remember who.
Put it where you'll see it on ordinary days. What lasts isn't the flowers.
An archival giclée print of the original — printed to last, in your choice of size.
Once a month, I write to you the way I'd write to a friend — a painting and its story, the small sacred moments that made it, and first look at new work. No noise, ever.
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