Fresh Eyes


Sometimes having guests make you see things with new eyes. I’ve lived in Saint Maarten for 2 1/2 months and have become very comfortable with everything here. From the sea creatures above to the barrel cacti, everything is a cause of comment for them, and perhaps that’s as it should be.


A dessicated version of barrel cactus….


The pricky kind of cactus–trust me, I stepped on it.

Snails! Not something you would find in New York, at least not without garlic and butter.

Blogging will be rather spotty for a while. The guests are here and Friday I’m off to New York. Hopefully I’ll have some great exhibitions and artwork to write about soon!

HighTension- Danger

I love having guests,like the three I am expecting this afternoon, and I go about the usual routine of getting things set up for them, fresh towels, tidy surfaces, food in the fridge. But then, of course- this being the Caribbean,the water pump stopped working. So after not being able to reach one plumber, we finally had a second plumber come by yesterday.The problem was simple, and he said he would come back in the morning with the right part. He called right on time this morning, to say he couldn’t come. I can hardly fault the guy: he was driving his pregnant wife to the hospital.

All the same, it’s hard to tell your boyfriend’s parents that the toilet doesn’t flush. Then the power went out, which means the internet went out. No water, power, or internet makes for a primitive welcome, no matter how many candles you have. Now the power is back. Hopefully the original plumber, if he can be found, will come back, while the power is on, to fix it before the visitors arrive! Isn’t there a song called “Trouble in Paradise”? It should be my theme song.

Edna St. Vincent Millay’s (and my) bleak shore


I shall go back again to the bleak shore
And build a little shanty on the sand
In such a way that the extremest band
Of brittle seaweed shall escape my door
But by a yard or two; and nevermore
Shall I return to take you by the hand.


I shall be gone to what I understand,
And happier than I ever was before.
The love that stood a moment in your eyes,
The words that lay a moment on your tongue,
Are one with all that in a moment dies,
A little under-said and over-sung.


But I shall find the sullen rocks and skies
Unchanged from what they were when I was young.


Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sonnets remain favorites of mine for their dense, explosive quality that manage to retain such poise and attitude. On a bleak morning after rain, I woke up early and came to this deserted, rickity old platform to watch the clouds part. Millay’s words started running through my head. Remembering a line like “I will go back again to the bleak shore” is like finding a word on the tip of your tongue–it helps verbalize what I lack words for.