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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
This painting captures an evening walk with my grown-up son in a place that has always felt a little magical to our family—the spot where the ocean and bay and two islands meet. We stopped to take in the sky, completely mesmerized by the cottony clouds changing color as the setting sun lit everything around us. The clouds seemed to point right toward the bridge, connecting two worlds.
To say this is a special place is an understatement. My husband and I had our wedding reception on the other side, many moons ago. We’ve brought our kids here to swim and beach, collected shells, fished with my parents, cruised in boats from the bay to the ocean under the bridge, and walked and biked across it. There have been bittersweet moments, too, like the time we saw a beached whale in the distance, trapped in the bay.
But despite the late summer crowd, that evening felt different. There was a quietness to it—a sense of peace, wonder, and being completely present in the moment. My son and I just stood there, spellbound, watching the sky put on its show. Those are the moments I love to paint: when you stop, take a breath, and suddenly realize how beautiful it is to simply be there.
I barely had to edit the scene. The light, the colors, the clouds—they had already done the work. I just wanted to hold onto that feeling and share it.
This painting captures an evening walk with my grown-up son in a place that has always felt a little magical to our family—the spot where the ocean and bay and two islands meet. We stopped to take in the sky, completely mesmerized by the cottony clouds changing color as the setting sun lit everything around us. The clouds seemed to point right toward the bridge, connecting two worlds.
To say this is a special place is an understatement. My husband and I had our wedding reception on the other side, many moons ago. We’ve brought our kids here to swim and beach, collected shells, fished with my parents, cruised in boats from the bay to the ocean under the bridge, and walked and biked across it. There have been bittersweet moments, too, like the time we saw a beached whale in the distance, trapped in the bay.
But despite the late summer crowd, that evening felt different. There was a quietness to it—a sense of peace, wonder, and being completely present in the moment. My son and I just stood there, spellbound, watching the sky put on its show. Those are the moments I love to paint: when you stop, take a breath, and suddenly realize how beautiful it is to simply be there.
I barely had to edit the scene. The light, the colors, the clouds—they had already done the work. I just wanted to hold onto that feeling and share it.