Speaking of Philadelphia on the Fourth of July, it’s been three years since I had the best sundae of my life at the Franklin Fountain—but I can still taste it like it’s right in front of me. Hope your holiday today is filled with summer heat and sweet treats!
Now, I know these might not exactly be roses by another name, but I didn’t have to travel far or wide to see them: these artichokes are my favorite thing in my next-door neighbor’s garden.
Turns out she grows them as ornamentals, as she’s not a big fan of eating them. So thanks to her, I got to see them bloom for the first time.
Now, just about the only thing that would make those next-door artichokes better is if they were fifteen feet tall…. Just sayin’.
Drawing super-complex things like rose gardens always breaks my brain a little. I start out with good intentions, attracted by the detail in every petal and the stunning colors of all the rose varieties. But every time I look down at my page and back up again, I lose track of where I was. Then I kind of throw up my hands, and suddenly everything becomes a mess of color blotches. But that’s okay—because when I go and look at the sketch later, my memory of actually standing among all those real roses is crystal clear.
Okay, so the title of this post is not an accident. Apparently this lighthouse actually was a guiding light—on the soap opera of the same name, that is. But I’ll have to take Wikipedia’s word for that one, because vintage soap operas aren’t really my cup of tea.
Vintage lighthouses, on the other hand, are exactly my cup of tea.
And when I found out I was standing inside the oldest working beacon in America? Well, I paid extra close attention.
Sandy Hook Light celebrated its 250th anniversary this weekend. I couldn’t be there for the festivities, but the Tailor and I spent a day at Sandy Hook a few years ago, and I did these sketches then. It was a flawless summer day—not the kind of weather you need a lighthouse for, but certainly the conditions that would show off its best features.