Oncoming train... or brilliant spark?

This summer has felt like that oft-told joke about tunnel lights and oncoming trains. Life has been a blur since May, and I'm. Getting. Tired.

Okay, I'm actually beyond tired, but this time there really IS light at the end of the tunnel. Sort of. On Wednesday I take myself on the road again, first to Denver to take down my show at the Dos Chappell Bathhouse in Washington Park and then to Rocky Mountain National Park to teach a workshop. Next weekend I hang another little local show and then? I have about three weeks to just be home getting things done. I've plenty of contract work to keep me busy during that time, so I don't know how much printmaking will happen, but it will be nice to be more or less stationary for a bit.

Carve it, print it, scan it, clean it up
and off it goes to be a map icon.

I spent the weekend doing prep work for Friday's workshop, and last evening I managed to finish the last (?) little linocut icon for the Southeast Colorado Heritage project.

The adventure on Hog Island already seems a bit like a dream, but I have a few quick little sketches to prove otherwise. This one shares the page with a favorite quote attributed to Jack London. (Apparently there's some dispute about all but the first line, but I like it anyway.)

I read these words at dinner one night last week, inspired by the energy and enthusiasm of the fifty-seven educators who were our campers. In a crazy season like this one, Mr. London reminds me that I chose this active and busy life... and that a life well-lived can be its own reward.

"I would rather be ashes than dust.
I would rather that my spark should die out in a brilliant blaze, than it should be stifled by dry rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."