The dry grasses sheltered crickets and a myriad of other tiny beings. A hush fell as we approached, looking up at the crest of the hill. You could feel the dry air caressing your face and you could smell the faint aroma of fallen needles and cones. The cry of a hawk on an updraft announced us. We sat and listened at the whisper of the breeze slipping through the branches.
All works are unframed and original except where noted.
Shipping costs within the continental US are free. All materials are archival. Each piece comes with a certificate of authenticity and is personally signed and ready to hang.
