The river.

View up close in the gallery.

The vernal equinox. This year the day also brings with it a full moon: sap moon, sugar moon, worm moon, crow moon—all signifying movement—awakening. This is one of the things this painting represents, the movement of the river and the life above and below its surface. The Huron River flows through the city I live in. It originates from the Huron Swamp and flows 130 miles to Lake Erie. It is a caretaker of many living things. I’ve seen exhausted migrating birds taking a rest on it, purple swallows criss-crossing to catch bugs above it, a baby kingbird singing an evening song perched on its bank. I’ve seen sunlight caught on its current, the blue evening shadows diving below, silhouettes of trees rising above it—my own reflection. The river is a caretaker of me, too.


I have an old photo of my father next to this river. He is kneeling, clean and angular, with a shiny watch on his wrist. The colors behind him are violet and cream, blue and green, and shadows, shadows, everywhere. He died young, and I have tried ever since to understand why.

I think of Norman Maclean writing in A River Runs Through It, “It is those we live with and should know, who elude us, but we can still love them, we can love completely without complete understanding.”

JF by river.jpg