LIMITED EDITION GICLEES
The regal mountains are cloaked
With a blanket of snow.
Below the winds brush the trees with frost,
And their tips sway white to the breeze.
The earth is still. Cold. Pregnant.
A LeConte Winter.
Give us the freedom from want,
And the liberty from fear.
Let us sing and be proud
Of the Red, White and Blue.
May we fly and be . . .one.
We the People!
The heavy rains have come
and gone.
A peaceful Greenbriar River
becomes white water,
And rushes through a
Golden Autumn . . .
Blessings!
With yellow ochre and winsor purple,
Take a moment and spill color across your paper.
Play just a little and you will create . . .
Amber Wine!
Glide.
Spread your wings and float
Above peaceful mountains.
As the day begins with a splash of rose.
Simply drift.
Evening comes and the last of the sun’s rays
Play across the sky and lights a world,
Of purple mountains.
Hiking on a trail, you are Smokies High.
Take this moment for it will soon be gone.
The sky is gray
And clouds form . . .
Imaginary shapes.
The sun falls low
And rays reflect . . .
Of gold.
For purple mountains
Strengthen a . . .
Timeless moment!
Born of one mother,
Brothers and sisters,
We are three.
On spindly legs
We carry our spots
For protection.
We prance, gambol and sashay
Through open fields.
We are triplets.
Let us walk but four miles
From the Newfound Gap parking lot,
Along the Appalachian Trail.
Climb atop Charlie’s Bunion,
Then stop. Let the Smokies embrace you,
And be calmed by the sound of generations.
The Ephram Bales Cabin stands
Long vacant in the Smokies,
As a season of change
Brings a carpet of Leaves,
While the picket fence
Now guards against . . . time!
Amidst a blaze of Autumn reds and golds
The waters of Greenbriar rush on to the seas,
Their songs are eternal melodies of beauty.
Refreshing! Enchanting!
The colors of night push
Above a Smokies Skyline . . .
The sky ablaze of color
For just a moment.
Wings descend into the dark
As the world stands still.
But, will start again . . .
Tomorrow!
The Alum Trail begins with a song
As waters flow from a mountain high.
Our hike gently climbs along the stream
Across wooden bridges ‘til we reach “Arch Rock”.
Then the trail snakes around the mountain side
Through Rhododendron heaths up to “the Bluff”.
Through the “Saddle” the assent begins
And after the “Switchback” there’s a mile of views!
And old pine trees a tunnel makes . . .
Atop the world . . . to LeConte Light!
Purple clouds float across a mountain sky
With golden linings . . . and we dream.
Amidst the color on transparent wings,
A red-tailed hawk glides . . . and we smile.
The sun hangs low i In a blaze of orange,
Sunrise, sunset . . . aren’t we blessed!
Old-fashion Hydrangeas,
Mom’s beauties,
Of royal-blues, violet s and rose.
And when I see them . . .
I always think of you!
Flowers are blessings from God.
From seeds they come . . . His magic!
Such beauty when the blooms unfold,
And with a touch of red . . . The Hibiscus!
Brilliant in color, they’re just tomatoes
. . . draped in flavor.
Tomatoes, home-grown, hand-picked
And canned with . . . Love!
A rustic tub mill long used, stands still . . .
In a world of color.
While a mountain stream flows playfully through . . .
This vibrant season.
And , an Autumn canopy seems brighter . . .
Against an azure sky!
It’s Spring in Cades Cove
And a young fawn feeds on the tender blades
While redbuds and dogwoods put on their lacy cloaks
Amidst a backdrop of . . . mountains or clouds?
Who rules the mountains?
Lush and thick.
Who rules the woods?
Deep and Green.
Who rules the waters?
Sparkling and fresh.
Who rules the Smokies?
. . . His Majesty!
Snow-laden branches bend close to a quiet Earth
As soft-padded feet glide on a crusted blanket of white
And a January glow caresses the sky!
The winter sprite comes out to play along a frosted hill.
While icicle fingers stretch to the ground
To shield miniature caves where creatures sleep
“Til Mother Earth loses her winter’s ice!
Beside a trail the waters
Flow through moss-laden Rocks.
Mountain melodies cascade amidst
Summer hues . . . magic moments.
We touch hands and stop to observe
Mountain rituals . . . Timeless!
Ears of Color and mounds of orange,
Native treasures given freely
To feed the people and start a nation.
Walk among the clouds and give praise!
Stand on top of Mt. Cammerer, and give thanks!
Let ancient trees embrace you and give adoration!
And sing of your Smoky Mountain blessings with Passion
If you walk through the gate
You step into a past recorded in logs.
If you touch the wood, you feel the work
Now weathered and worn, of ancient hands.
If you look at color . . . beyond the wood
You will see there's strength in light!
In a mountain wood ablaze with color,
For a short time pause and Listen.
The river sings, as she runs through season hues,
Her . . . Autumns song! Renew!
I give you my heart . . .
It is a valentine,
A fantasy . . .
A valentine fantasy.
I give you my heart . . .
I love you!
SIGNED ONLY GICLEES
You always come after your sisters.
Are you ashamed of your beauty?
Or do you come later,
So your beauty doesn’t outshine the many?
Oh lovely . . . painted trillium!
Delicate - The wildflowers of our mountains
Pastel - Colors of yellow, purple and green.
Trustworthy - Always each spring, they return
And fill our hearts . . . Joy!
Each April,
The three ladies meet
In a quiet glade,
A mountain cathedral.
They talk and sing,
They laugh and pray.
Blessings!
A wildflower choir,
Among the grass,
Each Spring,
The dwarf-crested iris,
Lifts their faces to the heavens . . .
And sings!
Crimson ornaments in a field of green,
The wild columbine sing to the forest,
A gentle promise of tomorrows.
LIMITED EDITION LITHOGRAPHS
Come on an early morning walk with me,
When the cove is washed in a purple haze,
And hushed with a silent sigh.
We are all children of the forest,
And these mountains are our grace . . .
A walk in them gives us strength!
Around and down, the waters cascade.
Through time they travel.
A hallelujah chorus, singing as they go.
Amid the delicate mountain flowers,
A psalm of honor!
A single blossom was not enough . . .
So with a bit of grace,
The Lord took a stalk
and let them climb,
And we call it, gladiolus!
You were old, when we were young, a mighty fortress
Our laughter rang as we played beneath your branches.
We grew, and your leaves protected us from the storms.
Wise, in solitude, you taught us to be humble and patient.
Now, it is we, who are old and still you are there for us.
In reverence you cradle us, 'til we are through.
An early snow comes to the cove,
Lacing the quilted world of color
With a still white blanket.
As a monument of a time now gone,
The Cable Mill stands among the beauty.
The fairies move among the leaves
With a magical touch the flowers unfold.
So beautiful are they, graceful, summer lace
With colors overflowing into our hearts.
Back and forth the morning brings
A gentle breeze, so clean and fresh.
Two quilts sown by ageless hands,
Swing and sway to the rhythm of the wind.
Look down the field beyond today,
For Cades Cove will calm as Winter nears.
Beneath a white veil the Earth lies pregnant
‘Til April, when Spring is born.
Come walk with me into the woods
And we will see a world of reds and golds.
As the leaves crunch beneath our feet,
The song of the wild ducks will echo in the distance.
We will smell the fresh air from an autumn sky
And taste the beauty of nature around us.
Come walk with me . . . into the woods.
Colorful faces lift their voices to a song of jubilance.
Pansies and tulips, swing in harmony, and awaken the fairies.
To dance, the first dance of the flowers.
Gray, aged before white, the picket fence stands against time.
Silent footsteps, echo stories of past glory. . . preserved.
Outside the children of the forest keep the songs.
The gentle breeze of Summer
Signals the coming dusk.
A wave of complimentary colors
Calls to a peaceful Earth.
And the rhythm of the flowers
Bring whispers in the meadow.
I will sing the song of the waters.
I will lift my voice every day.
I will give the thanks to our Lord above.
And be blessed by His love and grace.
Oh, the birds have a melody of glory.
The winds embellishes His name.
The Earth speaks one with the choir upon high.
And the falls sing God's holy praise.
A split-rail fence embraces the snow,
The opening, inviting, says enter
Come to our house and enjoy
All that is Cades Cove.
Into the night, the snow falls.
A white canvas.
Pastels, the sun brushes the Earth.
The trees become a lavender lace,
And the Cades Cove keepers
They come with reverence.
The wildflowers play in the Smokies,
Everywhere . . . We are blessed.
And the Spring beauties come to dance
To the song of the fairies.
Cades Cove is white, silent. Movement only from a deer.
I touch the brick, handmade by the family so long ago.
And am reminded of the love these walls still hold.
Atop LeConte we walk again,
Above a sea of clouds, with a sky of red.
We stand at Myrtle Point and repeat
Words of Love spoken with rings of gold.
The rhododendron brings the warmth to the Smokies.
Among their beauty you walk with grace,
To raise your young in the high country.
These woods are yours, oh Lady of the Mountains.
Hear the rhythm of the winds
For they play the mountain songs,
To begin the dance of the clouds.
Lofty, they grace the tips of the trees
In a ballroom of lavenders and greens,
So airy . . . the Morning Waltz.
Walk deep into the forest of color
and enjoy the gifts from God
Give Him thanks for the flowers, the ferns and the trees.
Listen to His song of the waters, the winds and the birds.
Look long into the beauty and find
The bright eyes of His children.
Listen with me, friend, as the birds sing their grace.
And we will bless their song.
Walk with me, apart, beneath the Poet's Sky.
And we will share beauty.
Though you are afar and I am here,
The same nightfall engulfs us!
Through life we walk together,
A gift for you . . . a rose.
Each petal unfurls my love, from the heart! Unending!
I watch your clouds wash a mountaintop.
They brush behind their rainbow and paint every tree.
Your Smokies change from green to red and gold.
It's an October Promise for which I give thanks . . .
And take my watercolors and spill them across my world.
A summer storm comes sudden to the Smokies. Violent.
The winds howl, lightning flashes
And thunder roars the trees.
A forest drenched, the storm blows on.
Leaving a cleansed earth. Atop Clingman's Dome
The sun plays colorful . . . After the Rains!
Nature has given us a "Christmas Treasure".
So fill our hearts with joy, oh flower.
Spread your reds and greens across the world.
And we will give "You" . . . with all Our Love.
The fresh smells of the clear days of Autumn
Bring with them timeless memories.
Baptist winds, born of ages past, maybe even born
When the "Olivers" and "Tiptons" walked the Cove.
They come to the Smokies each Spring,
Friends. I greet them. So frail are they.
I wonder, will they return? They do.
Blessings . . . the Ladies' Slippers!
Rise into the sky, oh shadow with wings,
Soar above the clouds to the chimney's of the Smokies.
Ride the cold winds, silent and alone:
A hushed wind that leaves a world of ice.
While the heavens are ablaze of color,
The earth is a mood of blues.
For as snow becomes winter's blanket,
Hoarfrost makes . . . winter's lace.
Much of the social in Cades Cove
Revolved around the church. Religion was a way of life.
The Methodist sent ladies to the right, and men to the left.
The church still holds those songs of many years
And glancing smiles shared across the room.
Mother Nature took the colors of the rainbow,
Melted them down and poured them out
With a delicate touch . . . and called it Rhododendron.
The air is fragrant and warm.
The last patches of winters snow
That hid from the sun are melting.
They are being replaced by the white blooming dogwood trees. Everywhere the Earth is giving birth to a new season.
The woods are dancing with activity
And the birds are singing of . . . Spring's Arrival.
The nighttime is coming to the Cove.
The air is turning cooler and the winds are blowing
The loose snowflakes from the trees.
The last streaks of sunlight are gradually fading.
It is a time when we seek a cozy dry cabin
The Dan Lawson Place.
Autumn days are upon us. Greens have given way to color.
A bustle in the forest as the world prepares for Winter.
The trees are full of wonder with treasures hidden
. . . in the leaves.
SIGNED ONLY LITHOGRAPHS
“Don’t weep for me”, you wrote.
For in death, life is renewed.
And through the broken window of our hearts,
The world continues; but, your lantern sits.
A memory of early morning walks to mountain streams.
Oh . . . Adra.
With affection,
The children of the forest embrace
Amidst the beauty, A painted trillium
Rejoices.
Apples – sugar – cider – cinnamon
Cloves – allspice – salt – lemon
Combine all ingredients and add:
A touch of Mom’s love . . . Applebutter.
A Strong flower so white against the wild,
We paint our faces with the wine of your stem.
And for a moment we are one with the wind
And children of the forests!
God let the tree-fingers reach to the sky
But the tree-toes He plugged in the ground.
The tree-fingers wave to us, Hi and good-bye,
But the tree-toes can't wriggle around
God gave us fairies, elves and gnomes,
And then let them hurry along,
You better be fast and you better be quick
"Cause just when you see them - they're gone.
You have been given the colors of the season.
So beautiful, holly, laced with snow.
We admire your radiance but we dare not touch.
Once a year, you come to hold a Spring revival,
And bring with you the congregation of wildflowers.
Above the world you walk with dignity.
Everything is yours The land, the trees, the air.
We come into your domain and you share with us . . .
The beauty, Oh, lord of the mountains.
An attic is a magical place, a place of dreams.
A rocker with a quilt of comfort, sits with stories to tell.
There's joy and laughter, sadness and tears,
But mostly . . . memories
The snows are crusted now.
A rabbit moves
Among the seasons' colors of red and green.
Nature's gift quietly touches our heart!
Crimson faces in a sea of green
You come to the Smokies and play
Delicate . . . your song!
Hand-hewed logs stacked so long ago,
Hold memories of lives now gone.
While our hearts are reflections in antique glass,
And the signs of Spring, give birth to coming tomorrows.
Hang not your head, but raise it to the heavens
For We see the true beauty that is you
. . . oh, Showy Orchis.
Walk across the Smokies and be greeted by nature's beauty.
Tall pines that reach to the pinnacle.
Listen closely to their ancient hymns.
Mournful.
Like a chorus you came to sing your song
That fairies can dance the dance of Spring.
All over the Smokies your wildflower song is heard.
Like nature’s hair amidst a field of snow
A fodder shock sways
To feed the children of the wild,
And for an instant the winter’s hare poses.
The Ladies' Slipper . . . A touch of yellow wrapped in green
Beneath your waxen face we see your beauty.
Naked branches, gray with ocher,
Stand before the moment in stark defiance.
Stoic changes from the days of green.
Simple. Beauty. Withstanding time!
Still . . . Calm . . . Peaceful
A quiet snow . . . with winter’s silence.
Hushed . . . Restful!
Yellow Ladies' that dance but a short time each year.
Enjoy their rhythm for the tune is fleet.
And they must go. They will return to dance again!
You won't open your petals to sing us your song
But we hear it from within and see your beauty.
Victorian memories captured
On metal trays and photographic moments.
Time lost to yesterday . . portrayed for tomorrow!
RETIRED EDITIONS
Run, waters of the mountains, run through blues and greens.
Rush to the gray edge of time and leap into the air.
Then fly, floating to the ground and
Become the mists of the falls.
Play upon the rocks, burgundy and brown.
But, leave behind your rainbow!
Rush on O' waters, rush to the sea.
Leap into space, and glide down the rocks.
Play in the wilds as you rush on your way
But sing your song, the Song of the Mountains!
This is not your day, oh Father Sun, so hide your eyes.
Today the winds sing their songs,
The trees brush slow to the rhythmic beat,
And the Earth pulls the clouds to her breast to dance,
A lacy dance . . . each mountain takes its turn.
An eternal ritual, that lasts but misty moments.
The colors of Autumn lift up to a sky of peach.
The white church of the Primitive Baptist
Stands as a monument to those who walked
Cades Cove . . . so long ago.
It has been said that raindrops are the tears of "God".
And rivers and creeks are the gathering of these tears.
If this is true then the waters that flows over Abram's Falls are from "His" tears of joy!
It is evening in the Smokies, the sun hangs in the west.
The sky is a silent fire a play of crimson and cobalt.
Their work done the animals are settling down.
Soon the stars will dance across the heavens
And the night's wildlife will stir.
But for an instance, the earth is still.
It is time to listen to your inner thoughts.
For there are few Quiet Moments in every day.
"The Crib" may be a simple building, but the memories it has
And more importantly the memories it evokes,
Will ever speak of a simpler life
And the many families that used it. And those that will
Cades Cove is a blessed place, where we might walk in silence
And renew our strength , and resolve our conflicts.
Come, walk closer to your God . . . and find . . .
Your Inner Peace!
Stark, the cantilever barn stands.
In Cades Cove . . . a field of white.
The snow falls silently and covers the earth,
And the song of the mountains is . . . Peace!
Like a brush, the clouds flow across the mountains
And leave behind a world of color.
Reds, Yellows and golds. To dance the last dance of the year,
The trees dress in their Autumn Splendor.
A Frazier Fir stands tall against a cloudy sky.
For years he has watched over all
Who have come to these blessed mountains.
Gently, the first snowfall comes
And leaves the Cove a coverlet of white.
Lacy branches of a landscape watercolor
Sway to the rhythm of the day.
Walk quietly through the woods,
And you will hear the heartbeat of God.
Give Him praise and He will show you the wonders of life . . .
In nature's innocence, His gift . . . these children of the wild.
A city lies asleep beneath the mists.
Trees stretch as the heat of the morning sun
Awaken the mountains.
And the song of hidden voices touches our heart!
Silent, the snows come in the night
And cloak the world in a winter's blanket.
To cleanse the mountains with a promise
of things to come!
Icy, the white breath of winter
Stills the need to grind corn.
The water wheel turns slow now.
And hums a gentle song of the season
I walk in the beauty of the Smokies
And am touched by the Season. The air is turning cooler
And the world becomes a palette of Golds, Reds and Yellows.
For this is the Summer's End
And a promise of the harvest of Fall!
Before the storm, the clouds rushed in
And danced across the mountains.
Before the storm, the trees stretched high,
Swayed with the winds and song to the heavens.
For soon the rains will come to shower them
And fill their grounds with the waters of life.
The night mists danced, while I raced the moon across the sky.
When I caught it, I realized,
Its beauty was from the light in my lovers eyes,
When she laughs!
Winter comes to the mountains
And Cades Cove is a blanket of Snow.
A rabbit races home to his burrow
To await the cold winds that follow.
Wings of migration are going south,
For the season of color will give away to moods of blue.
But, for now the Smokies are ablaze !
Dark green fingers of Laurel
Stretch to catch the waters of the falls.
Forever, chasing itself down the mountains.
Rushing, to the sea.
Blessed tree, once you held the Son of God.
Now you hold the beauty of the Spirit
And stains that remind us of His Love!
Like a droplet of blood in a sea of white
A Cardinal breaks the silence of the cove.
Gentle, soft and tranquil . . . The song of the winter ahead.
A thermometer hangs as a reminder
Of the Seasons end. Warm days soon lost.
Shadowy fingers stretch across the barn
Touching tobacco. Drying, curing . . . waiting.
Little girls in starched white dresses stood by Granny's barn.
Shared secrets, laughed and talked, sang and danced.
And always loved each other. A blessed gift . . . Sisters!
A bushel basket sits by the barn
filled with the harvest of fruitful orchards.
Soon the hands of mountain women will prepare
For the coming winter, canned delicacies!
Cast aside your sins and lift your arms to the heavens.
And praise our "Maker" for giving us this day.
Sing the ancient songs of these misty mountains.
Sang since time began. Blessings. Oh "Lord"!
Above the Smokies you soar with wings spread.
Graceful. While below the clouds play
Across the Smokies to the sounds of Summer.
Weathered and worn, they protected your hands.
Hands that created such beautiful art.
I see your gloves and hear your laughter.
Though time and space separates us,
You will always be my friend!
Rusting and abandoned,
An October plow sits against a weathered barn.
The seasons ended so long ago.
Harsh and hallowed, only memories remain
Of a treasured time.
The first light of morning glistens in Autumn Dew.
Multi-colored, a blanket of leaves
Holds the last heat of the season.
For soon Winter will come to a pregnant Earth.
Once men with calloused hands and strong backs
Farmed the land, that now sits with unused sheds
And rusted skeletons, like sculpted works
Of a time gone by.
Like a rusted monument you stand,
Your time has come and gone
But now you tell your tales of life
To the children of the Seasons.
An Autumn harvest has come.
Mother Nature gives up her gifts.
Tear off the husks . . . to reveal, three ears of color.
Thanks be to to God!
A carpet of Autumn leaves covers the ground.
Food left for the children of the forest,
To be put away for the cold to come!
Waltzing across the Smokies the clouds dance in.
They rise and fall. Pines sway gently to a song of solitude.
Slowly, atop Newfound Gap. An endless rhythm of Summer.
Once you held the bounty of the seasons
Now abandoned, it is nature that holds you
And makes you the center piece of a Spring Bouquet!
Wooden baskets from an Autumn gone. Alone.
A barn once used, now broken. The snows of time have come.
You must stand 'til seasons change and life renews
In the night a spray of white covers the Earth
The morning brings the cool mists of winter.
A wagon in the snow, stands, a lonely vigil
‘til the sun, wakes the world to sing their songs.
The snows are gone . . . awakened.
The earth has new life.
A floor covered with wildflowers
Gives way to the trees.
Redbuds reaching to the mountains,
Hide the Dogwoods.
Birds take flight. Renewal.
Fragrant . . . a LeConte Spring.