August, Pulpit Harbor, Maine

As I sit on our boat at anchor in Pulpit Harbor, North Haven, I find myself thinking about what feeds the artistic soul.  For me it is nature in any form, the sounds of water slapping against the boat hull or the sight of an osprey riding the invisible currents of air or a wildflower bending in the wind.  I found the sight of a piece of kelp floating free and solitary in its death poignant and beautiful in its graceful movement and surrender to the inevitable.  I love taking the time to really look at and take in the little events of life ... The color of the firs as they dip to the mustard of the rockweed clinging to the granite, the furry gray of lupine seed pods, the smell of bayberry bushes lining a small island shore.  How can that not be inspiring, filling to the artistic belly?