This is a piece that I did for a client. It was done on white Bristol board. The lettering style is Vivaldi. The price for this is $50.00

This is the "Herbs of Christmas" print with some of their traditional Christian meanings. The hand colored prints are on cream colored paper. It is sized 11" x 14" but I do not mat it. The price is $30.00.

 This is the story of the Good Samaritan. I lettered this for all of the nurses in the intensive care unit at Good Samaritan Hospital in Dayton where my mother spent her last days. Were I to do it again, the price would be $90.00

One of my daughter's former teachers asked me to do this for her daughter. It was something that her minister said in a sermon. It is done on bristol board in blue and green gouache. I load my pen with blue gouache (opaque water color) and when it begins to run out, I load it with the green gouache. It gives a "rainbow" effect as the 2 colors flow together - blue into green then into blue again. Please allow for variations. It can be done 11x14 or 16x20. Price for either is $45.00. Your choice of gouache and mat color.

When memory keeps me company and moves to smiles or tears,
A weather-beaten object looms through the mist of years.
Behind the house and barn it stood a half a mile or more
And hurrying feet a path had made straight to its swinging door.

Its architecture was a type of simple, classic art
But in the tragedy of life it played a leading part.
And oft the passing traveler would drive slow and heave a sigh
To see the modest hired girl slip out with glances shy.

We had our posy garden that the women loved so well.
I loved it too but better still, I loved the stronger smell
That filled the evening breezes so full of homey cheer
And told the night-o'ertaken tramp that human life was near.

On lazy August afternoons it made a little bower,
Delightful where my grandsire sat and whiled away an hour.
For there the summer morning, its very cares entwined
And berry bushes reddened in the streaming soil behind.

All day fat spiders spun their webs to catch the buzzing flies
That flitted to and from the house where Ma was baking pies.
And once a swarm of hornets bold had built a palace there.
They stung my unsuspecting aunt--I cannot tell you where.

Then Father took a flaming pole; that was a happy day.
He nearly burnt the building up, but the hornets left to stay.
When summers bloom began to fade and winter to carouse,
We banked the little building with a heap of hemlock boughs.

But when the crust was on the snow and the sullen skies were gray,
In sooth, the building was no place where one would wish to stay.
We did our duties promptly, there one purpose swayed the mind,
We tarried not, nor lingered long on what we left behind.

The torture of that icy seat could make a Spartan sob.
For needs must scrape the gooseflesh with a lacerating cob
That from a frost-encrusted nail was suspended by a string.
My father was a frugal man and wasted not a thing.

When Grandpa had to go out back and make his morning call,
We bundled up the dear old man with a muffler and a shawl.
I knew the hole on which he sat; `twas padded all around,
And once I dared to sit there. `Twas all too wide I found.

My loins were all too little and I jacknifed there to stay.
They had to come and get me out or I'd `a passed away.
Then Father said ambition is a thing that boys should shun
And I must use the children's hole `til childhood's days were done.

That dear old country landmark, I tramped around a bit
And in the lap of luxury, my lot has been to sit.
But ere I die, I'll eat the fruit of trees I robbed of yore.
And seek the shanty where my name is carved upon the door.

I ween the old familiar smell will soothe my faded soul.
I'm now a man, but nonetheless, I'll try the children's hole.

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