THE BLUE DOOR & GATE
In traveling to New Mexico, I am pulled to the warm way of gates and doors there. This one in La Mesilla is one I have drifted by for almost forty years.
During all seasons it beckons. It begs me to hear the weathered squeak as I let myself enter. Ah, to have the courage to cross, to share my story with the walls and the occupants, just so I could hear a little of theirs.
It would be worth the price of admission I’m sure. ††† en theos ††† jimwork
john 10:10
where words and watercolor soar together
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