Thursday, January 28, 2016

"For how can one know color in perpetual green, and what
good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?"
                                                          --John Steinbeck,
                                                                     Travels With Charley

Monday, January 25, 2016


"Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius."
                                                   --Pietro Aretino

Thursday, January 21, 2016

"Think for yourselves and let others 
enjoy the privilege to do so, too."

Monday, January 18, 2016

"We dance around in a ring and suppose.
But the secret sits in the middle and knows."
                                                                --Robert Frost

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Back in the Garden

"How fair is a garden amid the trials and passions of existence."
                                                      --Benjamin Disraeli

Monday, January 11, 2016


Kenus by Stephanie Funke

Another image of a summertime activity that makes me think of sunshine and warm temperatures. Frigid arctic air has invaded these parts and left most of us longing for more spring-like conditions.  Anyway, regarding this image, it was recently recognized in an online art exhibition and can be viewed by visiting:

Thursday, January 7, 2016


Regatta by Stephanie Funke

Yes, it's winter in Iowa ...but that doesn't mean one can't dream a little.  This image was captured on West Lake Okoboji while novices enrolled in the local yacht club's sailing school prepared for an annual event.  With no background in sailing, I don't have any other details except to say that the weather was warm and sunny with a breeze perfect for setting sail....Now back to winter.

Anyway, this photo was recognized in a recent online art exhibit, and you can view that collection by visiting

Monday, January 4, 2016

Winter Woods

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake 
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.