Work Boat Rainy Day

So could it have rained any more on the Saturday of the Grenada Sailing Festival 2013?  I suppose so. We may not have had those 5 minute bursts of sunshine that created all the drama in the skies.  The sailors didn’t mind the rain, they were wet anyway.  And I was wet.  I didn’t mind–no…

Sail on Grenada

The Grenada workboats–always attractive, compelling, fierce-and-friendly. Just a little pre-season painting, anticipating the racing at the end of January, early February on Grand Anse Beach in Grenada. Thanks Arti for the inspiration! Grenada Sailing Festival

A Trio of Grenadianism

 “Harvest” 20″ x 10″ Acrylic   “Donkey Darius” 16″ x 12″ Acrylic  “Bluggoe Boy”  16″ x 12″ Susan Mains, Little paintings with a local theme The simple ways still exist–still feed the body and the spirit.

The Gift of Art

It’s that time of year when we think of gift giving to friends and loved ones. The hard economic times we are currently experiencing in Grenada may cause one to wonder if there is really enough to buy gifts for all those to whom you wish to give.  So when you make your choices, you will…

Carenage on a Sunday Morning, Grenada

There are those moments that transport you instantly to another time. This moment in the early morning on the Carenage in St. George’s was one of those. The church with its newly restored roof, the Georgian architecture, the reflection in the water, and most of all, the quiet portray a story from 100 years, or…

Always a Critic

So there are always the critics–those who stand back and analyze, then gesture, then declare that they could have done it better. But look at the concentration on these ladies’ faces. Young and old, they have been there, done that, and can recognize it even looking sideways. I wouldn’t want to be the topic of…

Guarding Paradise

Tall coconut palm trees stand on our shores. Wind and wave beaten, yet they stand as sentinels.  When I walk here I can feel the gravitas of the ages–the tangy smell of the salt air, the wind whipping my face, waves dashing up the shore, but stopping before they over run me.  I am a…

At rest…

  Patiently, she sits and waits for her captain.  The small wooden boat, built with skillful hands, used and abused,  often repaired, layers of different coloured paint showing through the nicks and bumps, she carries her load.  Ever faithful.