I wish I could draw an elegant line. Put charcoal to paper and trace an arc that that has grace and beauty. I wish I could sing with a voice that found notes with ease and brought smiles of appreciation to the faces of those who heard. I wish I could dance with with style and precision, instead of getting tangled in my own feet.

I can do none of those things, but I can appreciate the skill of those who can. I can admire their artistry, even if how it's done is a mystery that eludes me.

Bohemian has asked to see a few more examples of my wife's art. And I am happy to oblige.



She drew "Frank's Boot" after a visit to a distant cousin of mine. It is a very moving painting. The boot belonged to my cousin's son who had committed suicide two years before our visit and sits at the entry of his beautiful cottage. The boot is the last of his son's belongings that the man owns and supports the life of its flowers, while the shoe lace hangs like a tear down its side.

Linda sent the painting to my cousin where it now sits on a brass easel in this livingroom. The original boot has now deteriorated to the point where it can no longer act as a planter but the painting preserves its memory.



Linda followed the success of Canada's women's hockey team at the last Winter Olympics with great pride. As a sport for women, hockey has not caught on with the general public the way figure skating has, especially outside Canada. The Canadian team was by far the most talented, crushing the opposition. What caught Linda's eye at the celebration following the final game was the individuality of the women's skates in contrast to the sameness of their uniforms. The painting was part of an exhibition and has been sold to a private collector.



My personal favourite is her painting of the small chickadee sitting on the branch of a tree in a cold spring rain. The bird is so tiny and alone and wet, but is perfectly at home in nature in a way that is forever lost to us. The painting hangs in my daughter's home in Guelph.