Fern Isabel Coppedge

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I just learned of this American painter, on Antiques Roadshow. I have never heard of her before, but I LOVE her artwork. It is impressionistic, yet primitive, soft yet bold, homey and avant garde at the same time, especially in her day for the paintwork itself but also because the painter was a woman.

Here are some examples.
The Delaware Valley

Hillside Village

New Hope

Mountain Creek

Unlike most of her artist friends, she was a "plein air" artist - painting on location, year around. It has been said that she could be found painting from the back of her car until her fingers were stiff, in the winter. She was part of a group of women painters called the "Pennsylvania Ten" who lived in New Hope, Pa. I hope you enjoy these. If you want to see more, just type in her name in Google or other search engine. I think I found about 80 distinct pictures on line.

Reader's request

I received a request from someone I don't know who read my poem, "My Favorite Season" that I posted in November. She wants to use it in a (church) service. Surprising, but pleased it is being a blessing to others beyond my 'world.' This shows what an impact the Internet has on the world. When you put something "outthere" - you never know who's going to read it. "Oh, be careful little fingers what you type" - to paraphrase a children's SS song.

Another song to memorialize our soldiers

Brothers in Arms
Sung by Celtic Thunder
written by Mark Knopfler

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arm

Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms