Artist Date – Part 2

Admittedly, I had to go to this location for an appointment, but moseying around town and taking some pictures, which I love to do, was my Artist Date.

This is the very charming little hamlet of Frenchtown, the river town just south of the one I live in.

There are several such river towns dotting the Eastern side of the Delaware River – we are the two northernmost.

Frenchtown abounds with small, unique shops, and plenty of good places to eat, get coffee, ice cream, pastry, and much more.

I obsessed a little over these two dogs, and took quite a few photos of them. But, hey, it was my Artist Date, and my chance to do what I love.

The Frenchie, the Gull, and the Fish

It’s just a minor seaside disagreement as to the ownership of one small colorful fish. Entitled “My Fish!”, this is my original art available as a giclée print, in my Etsy shop.

For those not familiar, I once illustrated Just Frenchies magazine for 10 years. From this, I grew a small business focused on my French Bulldog art, eventually moving to a shop on Etsy. While this is not the direction where I am headed now, I continue to share some of my French Bulldog art, terrier art, carousel horses, etc, as cards and prints.

Feel free to stop by my shop!

Do What Makes You Happy

Reminder to self: Draw more. It makes you happy.

Reminder to you: Do what makes you happy.

When so many things in the world feel like they’re falling apart at the seams, do what you love, whatever it is.  Every moment of love sent out into the world is a stitch in repairing the fabric so carelessly rent by those whose souls have long ago ceased to care.

The Symbol of the Butterfly

What is the meaning of a butterfly? Often, the butterfly symbolizes change, due to its dramatic transformation from a caterpillar to a magnificent winged creature. In Japanese, Burmese, and many other cultures the butterfly is seen as a symbol for the soul.

Was symbolism intended when I wrote my picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?

If you had asked me when I first wrote it in 2009, I would have said `no’, but I now question if I didn’t have more in mind than even I knew. I submitted “Butterflies” to agents and traditional publishers for many years. Although I often got positive feedback, it was ultimate;y rejected because it was in rhyme, and rhyme is hard to sell.

A small, independent publisher saw the beauty in my story of the magical imaginings of a child who wondered where the butterflies went at night. It was published with the lovely art of Stella Maris Mongodi, who brought the sweet simplicity of the cabbage white butterfly to life in a whole new and charming way.

When the original publisher closed its doors, I self-published this, my debut picture book, now identifying it as “2nd Edition.” In 2025, it won a first place award in the poetry category from a prestigious reviewer of children’s books. And in my most recent picture book school presentation, I decided to do something a little differently.

In emphasizing the concept of change from caterpillar to butterfly, I talked with 1st and 2nd graders about the importance of embracing change; being brave in the face of change; and understanding that all change is ultimately working in our favor. One might think little ones wouldn’t get that, but they did. Sometimes wiser than we adults, they did.

And so, the butterfly has become a symbol of transformation for me, as well. I’ve gone through many changes with these butterflies and their story. They continue to light my path, and I am still unfolding.

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Where Do Butterflies Go at Night, 2nd Edition is available on Amazon and in also my Etsy shop, if you would like your copy signed.

Photo credits:
BW butterfly: pexels/6th Era Photography; @stories_by_sixthera
Blue butterfly: pexels/aarngiri; @aarn_giri
Cabbage white butterfly: pexels/mali maeder
Butterfly illustration: Stella Maris Mongodi

The Woman and the Dog

It was in the late 80’s on the Lower East Side that I saw her, a woman sharing her quilt with a beautiful Harlequin Great Dane on a street corner at Cooper Square .

I just had to go and say hello to the dog, as we animal lovers are often wont to do. When I came closer, I saw that the woman was very clean, but shabbily dressed, perhaps wearing the only clothes she owned. The dog’s coat was so bright, you needed sunglasses. I could see she was homeless, and her dog was undoubtedly her life.

“May I pet your dog?” I asked. The sun rose in her face and shone with joy.

“Please, sit down,” she offered.

I sat on the quilt, and proceeded to pet and get all mushy with the affectionate Dane. I asked about him, and she was absolutely elated to be able to talk about her magnificent companion. Soon, I was telling her about my Chloe at home, a pit bull terrier who had come to the shelter at 6 months old with a broken leg. We chatted and laughed about our dogs, animals, and life in general as any two new acquaintances would do.

At some point, I had to get going, and we said our goodbyes, still smiling and glowing. I stopped at a small market to get a sandwich and coffee, and decided to get the same for her plus a bag of dog food for the Dane. But when I returned to the corner, she was gone, perhaps shooed away by the police, or maybe that was the amount of interaction she could tolerate; one couldn’t know.

I hoped this beautiful homeless soul would find some peace, comfort, and safety with her dog. I have never forgotten them. A recent event brought them to mind again.

On a particular TV channel (whose “news” I will never watch, and which is heavily constructed of lies), two hosts were talking about the “homeless problem”. One said that if the homeless weren’t willing to accept the resources the city offered, they should be locked up. The other replied, ““Or involuntary lethal injection, or something. Just kill ’em.” Yes, you read that correctly, as unbelievable as it may seem. You can find that clip here.

How has this situation come so far? While homelessness cuts across race, gender, and nationality, essentially, these are people suffering severe economic hardship. They may be our veterans, having seen combat in wars overseas; they come home with PTSD, are unable to manage life, and find no one to help them.

They are former patients of mental institutions, released when it was decided to shut down the hospitals, giving people already unable to cope with life the responsibility of getting somewhere on their own to pick up their meds. But more often than not, they are people who lost their jobs, their home, their car … everything … and had nowhere to turn. They are our neighbors. And there but for some saving grace, they are you. They are me.

Why we have homelessness is not due to a lack of money; it’s due to a lack of love.

The responsibility sits on the shoulders of your average citizen all the way up to elected leaders who have zero concern for humanity and are comfortable fostering hate. Or they simply don’t see the homeless as human beings. Or a priority.

But we – you and I – can still make a difference by continuing to be kind and caring, and believing that this multiplies exponentially, even if slower than we’d like. Peace always begins with us.

Please keep shining.