Oyster River runs through Chatham Massachusetts. As a child my father and I weaved down it through the idle boats out to fish in the dark mornings. That’s what I remember most.
And for the time being I am still close enough to come down and paint along it’s banks whenever I choose. There are a lot of paintings here. The last couple weeks I have come back here to see Mrs. S. We can talk about people my parents were friends with forty years ago. She has a garden built over her old chicken coup and the soil is like gold to this gardener. I have come by twice this June and her roses are still not open, so I painted looking back toward Oyster Pond and the town center.
I had noticed this view last week and have been painting it in my mind. She made us coffee as the fog rolled in.
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