Figuring out travel plans for the rest of the month and making lists on the backs of envelopes.

One slice left after we had fish for dinner.

A less impetuous person would have removed the tissue paper before attempting to try on her new boots.

Saturday morning - we went out for coffee.

A flower which always means summer to me. We're home, and things are blooming, and the day is hot and bright.

Cheers from afar to all the amazing women at BlogHer this weekend. A dear nephew has chosen tomorrow for his wedding - I'll be celebrating with family in Pennsylvania. I'll find time and space for drawing, but may or may not get to a wifi connection in time to post on Saturday - so look for two pictures to appear on Sunday.

From the train window, a morning view of the Connecticut coastline.

Near the marina and market. We had lunch and then everyone else walked to the beach. I painted for a while caught up with them later. Last full day of a wonderful vacation.

Looking out over Ipswich Bay, just after sunset tonight.

Just past dawn, a few clouds. Within the hour, fog had erased the far side of the bay, the buoys were gone, and all I could see was a line of rocks at the edge of the world.

"Do you always draw in black and white?" asks a nephew.
"I just got these new fat pencil crayons," I explain. "I'll go back to color in a day or so..."

We went berry-picking (and mosquito-slapping, and duck- and pig-watching) at Russell Orchards in Ipswich this morning. Blueberries and raspberries - what could be better? The pears weren't ripe yet, but the trees were beautiful.

They run the tractors with biodiesel fuel. They sell homemade doughnuts in their store. My favorite sign near the barn read, "Save the planet: eat cider donuts." So we did what we could to help.

I can look at this landscape every day, and every day I see new things.

Just got a couple of fat water-soluble graphite sticks made by Lyra. This was the 2B (also have a 9B). Even the harder 2B goes onto the page like butter, and I can use a waterbrush to pick up a wash. Feel like a kid with new crayons - can't wait to draw more with them.

Hair tumbling into her face, she was intent on the castle she was building at low tide.

My father's garden is in full bloom.

Detail of a galleon.

View from the beach this morning.

Nearly high tide on an overcast day. A bucket is in need of rescue before the water gets much closer. We stayed on until the waves were lapping at our toes and then walked home for a late lunch.

The day cleared later so we could walk... but began cool and rainy.

I made sketches of things seen out the window as we went along, trying also to note location and time. Had to stop when it got dark somewhere along the coast of Rhode Island, but at that point I'd run out of room on the page, anyway. (As with most other pictures on this site, you can click on the image for an enlargement.)

Arrived too late to set up wifi. Listening to the waves instead. Sketched throughout the train trip and will post that tomorrow. Meanwhile, for a set of brief verbal sketches of the journey, you can follow my twitter stream at http://twitter.com/elizabethperry.

Thanks!

Or flip-flop, or slipper. Belonging to a child. Soon to be packed... Tomorrow morning, we're headed on a train journey to vacation and family and the beach. I'm looking forward to a day in between places, with windows to look out, with books to read, with paper to draw on, and of course, a picnic.

For my new glasses. I asked for one which couldn't be confused with the other cases around the house. The woman rummaged in a drawer - and produced wonderful lime plastic instead of the usual navy or brown leatherette. No mistaking them for anyone else's. This also marks a moment of passage - my first trifocals. After muddling along with contacts and drugstore reading glasses, it's a delight to see so clearly: details at a distance and up close and in between.

The glass resists the water; the white china marker resists the paint.

Sunday night, and everyone is reading, except me. I take a break from books and the newspaper to draw for a few minutes. The rainstorm comes in waves of sound, good weather for quiet time inside, half-listening to the rush of water on leaves, roof, street, half-listening to the pages turn.

Decaf espresso at the end of the evening, in a mug glazed by the youngest member of the family. The clock ticks. I hear a distant train. Thunderstorms seem to have passed for now, leaving cool air behind for us to sleep in.

Color and light in the sky until just a few minutes ago, but other details began to darken. I love the long evenings at this time of year.

Not local, but now that the strawberries have been eaten, this is what scents the kitchen tonight.

Nothing - nothing - tastes like the tiny local berries we got today. Sweet and too ripe to travel far from home. They won't last long, but that's not a problem...

Leftovers brought home from our long walk today - took the kids on a four-and-a-half mile urban excursion, stopping for gelati and then dim sum en route. We also browsed at a toy shop, played the rhythm instruments at the fair trade store, updated my prescription for glasses, and bought a couple of belated birthday presents. Out of the house for six hours, all told.