Battle scars from the Grim Reaper

Early morning, blue skies and Garth Brooks was cranked in the van. After all, I’m a country music fan and was on my way to Kentucky for a heavy dose of fun and some rock climbing. My first trip solo in what seemed like forever and the stoke was high to be on the road to visit  my old rock climbing stomping grounds and see some very dear, old friends. My doctor had given me the go ahead to travel after my follow-up multiple MRI’s said my chest was still clear of cancer and my liver friend remained benign.  This trip was a celebration of freedom.

A quick stop in Windsor for gas and then it was cruising over the Ambassador bridge into Detroit, Michigan. A slight breeze filled the open windows with a smell of spring and well a little pollution.  My smile went from ear to ear. Half way across the bridge and my world changed in seconds. With a surprise attack, nausea consumed me…making my chemo days feel like a mild case of indigestion. Almost simultaneously, an alien was in my chest cavity trying to push my heart out of sternum while playing a drum solo. Feeling incredibly light-headed and instantly concerned I looked in my rear view mirror and a rash had formed down the middle of my face. I kept telling myself to drive straight and keep my shit together to the other side.

A few cars were ahead of me waiting for the  border screening. I had an overwhelming urge to jump out of the car and lie on the ground. After all, if I were to die at that moment…I would be out in public. Repeatedly telling myself to not panic, it was probably just the flu setting in or some other bug didn’t ease any of my sensations. The cars finally cleared and it was my turn at the border…creeping ahead my eyes filled up with tears. It was evident something bad was happening and in the few words I spoke to the border guard…he understood.

A minute later, the border security was clearing the emergency barrier and I was driving back over the bridge to the Canadian side. No matter how much travel insurance one buys for going abroad, it was a relief to not have to try it out. A minute later and the Ambassador bridge was crossed again and I was safely on the Canadian side. The border guard called their internal paramedics which called the Windsor medics knowing my situation was worsening.

My month-long trip lasted three hours and instead of me driving my van, I was in an ambulance heading to the Windsor hospital. Bouts of vomiting, feeling like I was about to die of a heart attack, light-headed to the point of passing out and unable to walk consumed every second.  The paramedics called my husband and after their questioning, he assured them that I wasn’t having an anxiety attack and he was on his way.

After hours of being alone while they took CT scans and MRI’s on my brain checking for a stroke or aneurysm, my heart was being monitored in case of heart failure, endless blood work, doses of ineffective Gravol with symptoms continuing to worsen. I was eventually so scared I texted our friend Marty with only the vision of one eye. Marty lives in Windsor and it wasn’t long before he was sitting by my side, bringing a climbing magazine and his wonderful, warm smile and offer to help.

Steven, after a long and stressful drive, got to the hospital. Hours later I was discharged with the, “we don’t know what you have…it could be vertigo or a virus…follow-up with your family doctor!” Late into the night, Steven found a hotel and we stayed until morning to do the drive home. The issue was…I couldn’t drive so he drove the van home and left his car for pick up in the future.

For the week that followed, my symptoms remained. The first trip to an on-call doctor since our family doctor was on vacation resulted in a determination of vertigo. All I thought was, “holy f*ck, if this is vertigo…I won’t survive.” She was certain it was vertigo since she has it but somehow ignored many of my other symptoms. So off to get a vestibular test (an inner ear test that determines if you are suffering from vertigo or some other major inner ear infection that could affect balance and cause nausea). The issue was that I didn’t really have a balance problem originally, I was really light-headed and wanted to puke everywhere while the alien tried to crack open my chest.

The vestibular test was passed with flying colours. There was no inner ear infection and it was definitely not vertigo. With symptoms not abating by the end of the week, I sought out another doctor. By this time, eating was barely possible and Medusa looked better on her worst day. A dose of antibiotics for a possible ‘whatever’ and an order for a heart holter and back home I went.

It was now a week since my attack in Windsor. The morning started out fairly positive since I was walking around and joking with my husband. It didn’t take long for things to change. Within seconds, a jack-hammer was at full speed in my head. The nausea was overwhelming and I huddled around an aluminum salad bowl since getting to the washroom wasn’t possible. My chest was being crushed by a vice and intense pain in the area grew. The feeling in my arms and legs disappeared and everywhere else was a heavy dose of pins and needles. Steven tried to get me to sit up and I passed out momentarily.

It wasn’t long before it was another trip by ambulance to a hospital in Hamilton. Fortunately, the Juravinski hospital is five minutes from our home. With symptoms worsening, it wasn’t long before an I.V. was inserted, the heart monitor was attached and doctor after doctor came to try and assess my situation. I held a vomit bag to my face while the plethora of questions was answered. My symptoms continued to worsen and at one point I told Steven I wasn’t ready to die.

Twenty-four hours in Emergency, questions, illness and the constant noise of others terrible situations take a toll on its own. With the doses of anti-nausea meds not being effective, the vomit bag was essentially strapped to my face although there was no longer anything left in my system to donate.

Steven held my hand, comforted me in any way he could and never left my side. For three days he held his spot unless the doctors needed him to leave. Waves of symptoms came and went like a chorus. My kidneys were showing they were being challenged, my body was burning so hot I was certain spontaneous combustion came next even though it was clear there was no fever. There was no feeling in my arms and legs even though I could move them. My chest was pounding so severely my chest muscles hurt. Every dose of Gravol and the nausea was at a level beyond all comprehension. Refusing to sleep out of fear of not waking up made for three days of purgatory.

Every moment available, my eyes focused on Steven. Tears running down the side of my face, barely audible mumblings of love for him and that I wasn’t ready to die spilled from my cracked lips. Caressing my head he would tell me everything was going to be okay and his eyes showed he was scared too!

It had been days since a mere morsel had been consumed and any motion to move me for testing caused me to pass out. The nausea was so intense that just the sight of a food wrapper made me want to hurl. Another straight dose of Gravol by I.V. and I felt my life was truly about to end.

On a stretcher awaiting a ECG of my heart, my arms and legs no longer existed. I would move my fingers over my thumb like a gesture for wanting money but there was no feeling.  Suddenly the burning in my skin hurt so bad I was certain someone had lit me on fire but the flames weren’t visible. My chest pounded so severely that a sledge-hammer would have been softer. Dry heaves hurt my throat and if anything came out it surely would have been dust! It was at that moment it seemed that death was coming!

There was a sense of urgency to tell Steven how much I loved him and how I wanted him to fall in love again since he had so much love to give. I asked him to say goodbye to our cats and to tell our friends how much I loved them. I told him I wished I had travelled more. I told him I wasn’t ready to die!

As the hours passed and my strength to fight was dwindling, my eyes were closed and my brain was attempting to process random things. One of those things was the increase of issues shortly after being given Gravol. When it was time for my next dose…I asked for something else. I was certain something about Gravol didn’t agree with me.

The next dose of anti-nausea med made me drowsy, slightly reduce the nausea and sleep was inevitable.

The next day brought some relief from many of my symptoms. The new med reduced my nausea, I finally got some real sleep and I still didn’t have an appetite for hospital food but the local cafeteria yogurt was the best thing ever! Barely walking to the washroom twenty feet away but it was a solid shuffle. Throughout the day brought episodes of my inexplicable symptoms but they were shorter in duration and my popularity was growing for the resident doctors to come and question about my odd illness.

The world was becoming a brighter place…if only for a day. As the morning passed to afternoon and my spirit became stronger, I never suspected what would come next. A sudden onset of a slight headache turned into a mind-exploding migraine in minutes. I suffer from migraines and this one was a years’ worth in a day. My body was burning through to my organs, my chest hurt so much…the alien was clearly cracking through the ribs although I couldn’t see it. My right hand-held the vomit bag so close to my face…one would have thought I was hyperventilating. The feeling in my arms and legs disappeared yet I was flipping from side to side uncontrollably.

The nurse provided ice packs and some hydro-morphine to help with the pain. There was no comfort and I had reached my lowest point in all my years by saying I wanted to die! I never thought at any point those words would pass my lips but at that point…I did!

Another round of meds and it took everything in me to stay calm. My inner dialogue went to the concept of dying and that it was time to be accepting of that reality. I couldn’t see the Grim Reaper’s face but our conversation…she has the same voice as mine…was unforgettable.

Our conversation began with her question…”Do you want to die with good thoughts or bad thoughts?”

With tears flowing down my face I replied, “Good!”

She told me that I had to come to terms with dying. She forcefully said if I wasn’t okay with anything I needed to sort it out now. She suggested thinking about what I liked about my life and what, if anything, I failed to recognize. She suggested looking at my life in reverse…a reverse bucket list, if you will.

Even in my worst of times…my response to her was, “holy f*ck…could you be any more demanding!”

Conceding to her suggestions, my thoughts went into a fast-rewind of all the good times experienced. There were so many!!! There were so many goals achieved, so many amazing people, so many laughs, so many unexpected triumphs, so much love and so much life currency acquired.

As my experiences flashed rapidly in my mind, there was a deep realization that especially since my cancer diagnosis, my mission was to have as many experiences as possible…it was my currency of life. I was rich in Jany currency without a doubt! The problem was…this currency was as valuable as Monopoly money in the real world. I was driven to have experiences for me….things that meant something to me in life but would mean nothing when I was gone because the value wasn’t useable by anyone else.

Ms. Grim Reaper was patient as I sorted through my memories and realizations. I’m certain I could feel the caress of her hand on my forehead. It felt cold and chaffing…kinda like my hands feel all the time.

The film of my life and what meant the most to me was in HD with enhanced colour. I thought about what brought the most meaning into my life and what I missed. I knew that Steven was the best thing that ever happened to me and his family was key to teaching me what family meant. What I didn’t realize is how much I would reflect on my life rock climbing and how it and the friends acquired had played such an instrumental role in who I had become for the better. Don’t get me wrong, I love cycling too but climbing has been carved into the deepest part of me in ways that I didn’t recognize until now. As the album of my history flipped through the pages…it was a good life…a good time and since I wouldn’t get a chance to change the value of my currency to be richer in the lives of others…I had to be okay with that.

I opened my eyes and saw Steven staring at me from his chair that had a hole worn in the seat where he had sat for the last five days. I tried to mumble that I loved him but I think I just spit out dust. I burned his face as the last image in my mind.

Closing my eyes, I spoke to Ms. Reaper and told her I was ready to go. She lifted her head and removed her cloak hat…it was my face with a smile looking back at me as I said goodbye, surrendered and went to sleep.

Waking up the next morning was a surprise. It was the best cloudy day I had ever seen. Still sick and drained but able to consume a couple of spoons of yogurt and a mouthful of banana and I was on the “holy f*ck this is incredible train!” I had another day and  even if  it got bad again…I had another day!

After a week in the hospital…I was discharged. The final diagnosis…more than likely an epic virus but ultimately unknown. Barely able to walk but the symptoms were slowly subsiding, it was also determined that I am allergic to Gravol. I had all the opposite reactions to Gravol which made matters worse.

I got to use a walker loaned by our neighbour to get around the house for a few days and my road to recovery was as fast as a snail on gravel. Multiple tests including a heart monitor,  blood work, a tilt table test (they try to make you pass out) showed that I was improving.

On March 12th, my life changed. Now, in late May, my cardio is finally improving and all the others symptoms have finally disappeared.

Ms. Grim Reaper left a deep scar…deeper than cancer. I dig scars though and I have some other ones on my chest that are visible daily that show the warrior I have been. What she gave me was a silver dollar in real currency that I can build a rich life that wasn’t just meant to enrich me with positive, personal memories but to enrich all those that want to play with me in the game of life.







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How I learned to love Christmas again.

IMG_5006The knock on the front door glass window was made with the knuckles of a bare hand. The snowflakes were visible through the frosty, front window revealing shadows of three figures. Even as a child, I knew that these shadows of people were special because they came every year around the same time.

Bolting to the door to be the first to open it, I could see through the window adjacent to the door it was the big man himself…Santa and his two elves to assist in the delivery. Pushing the screen door open, I yelled Santa and jumped to him…out in the cold, stepping in the snow-covered porch in my barefeet. Looking up, he picked me up with his black leather covered hands and in a gentle voice said, “HO HO HO, Merry Christmas Jany!”

I held him tight and the elves held the door open as my siblings came to the door. We all knew it wasn’t the real Santa, after all, he was days early but this Santa and helpful elves were equally as important. The badge of the Salvation Army was evident on all of their jackets. These kind and giving servers of mankind were bringing us food and unwrapped gifts since we were very poor and barely surviving on social assistance in a household of seven.

On_Santas_ListSanta put me back in the house and I ran to get my shoes. Forcing my way back through my siblings as they began to carry some of the garbage bags full of items, I dashed for an open box of can goods. It was important to help and I was clearly going to lift a box that was too big and too heavy for my wee arms and frame. My attempt to lift it resulted in some of the contents to roll off the porch into the snow. I felt a hard slap to my head and the insults flew from the mouths of some of my siblings.  My mother reminded me that I was a mistake at birth and would remain as such.

The tears flowed from my eyes and it was the Salvation Santa that lifted me up to comfort me. I remember holding him so tightly, apologizing for the mess and he wiped away my tears. As my sobs softened he moved closer to my ear and told me something that I will never forget…”Jany, you are a sparkle that shines brighter than most….never stop shining no matter what they say!” He put me down, ushered me back in the house and I watched him, the elves and my siblings collected which was lost in the snow and the large turkey which was waiting to be stuffed.

We received so much goodness in garbage bags and boxes through the kindness of others and the unwrapped gifts remained in the dark bags to be revealed on Christmas day. Santa and his helpers left our porch and went back to their vehicle and drove away. I discovered later that Santa knew my name through a list provided to them of each family. The rest of the food was taken to the kitchen and I sustained another slap to the head and a reminder that I was a foolish and evil child.

IMG_4940I huddled by our Christmas tree, full of strings of lights, some worked, some didn’t. Santa’s comment went on repeat in my head. Staring at the lights that functioned, I began to lose myself in the twinkle of the lights. The lights became mini-snow globes holding magical little worlds where there was happiness and bright colours. I began to dream of a beautiful world where I was of value, where I was the hero, where I was….happy.

The dread of the prep of the days to come would resurface quickly as my childhood holidays were more on a Cinderella end of things. Even as a child most of my holiday time and well my childhood in general was spent cooking, cleaning, sewing, laundry (on the old washing machines with wringers that occasionally pinched a finger or two) and not being welcome for other than those purposes. While others sat for dinner, I was left to do the dishes and eat later. I learned to do all of these things at a very early age and as others did less, I did more, sustained a lot of physical trauma from jobs done poorly. There was also no knight in shining armour or glass slipper but I did have a brother that was the most humorous and kind and brought some warmth to an otherwise disturbed home.

My childhood was mostly filled with sadness, insults, abuse, and the daily confirmation that I wasn’t a wanted child. There are enough stories of the others during drug and alcohol abuse, fights, police and other assorted unpleasantries that could give Oprah, Dr. Phil, Jerry Springer, Montel Williams and Heraldo Rivera enough for a season or two. I didn’t think I would survive to the age of 16 and every year since then has been a bonus!

Each year as Christmas neared, my sense of dread grew and a dislike for those that got to celebrate and I did not. Each year I would stare at the Christmas lights and try and lose myself. One year, my gentle brother handed me some paper, pencil, eraser and markers. He told me to draw what I saw. Under the light of the Christmas tree, alone, I began to draw what gave me the most warmth….pictures of Christmas. The anger and dread I felt towards the season would slowly wash away. The statement of the Salvation Arm Santa from years before brought warmth to the tears that ran down my cheeks as I struggled to understand why there was so much anger and disdain around me and I seem to be the blame for much of it…somehow!

One of my pictures, drawn before Christmas of an animated character with a big smile was one of my favourite pieces and I took it to school. Showing it to a favourite teacher (can’t remember her name now) she showed amazement that my little hands drew it. She asked if one could be done for her granddaughter as a Christmas gift. I agreed and after school I hurried home to create the requested masterpiece. It wasn’t long after I sat silently drawing by our Christmas tree that a foot came flying through my hands and the marker went flying. More insults were directed at me and the fact that I would never amount to anything. I crawled around the room collecting my markers and continued to draw. Staring into the Christmas lights as if another universe existed that I could escape to, my artistic imagination arose. The Christmas carols in the background seemed odd  but became comforting and Frank Sinatra seemed to give my creativity an extra boost.

The customized piece of art drawn from my tiny hand was met with a huge smile, a thank you and a hug from my teacher. She brought in the final piece framed right before Christmas for me to see. It was at that moment that I found a way out of the sadness of my childhood and a way to love a season that was filled with hurt and would more than likely remain that way until I left home. It was the simple act of making someone smile through my art that brought back the sparkle in me.

IMG_2482So for the years since then, I have been painting and trying to bring a smile to the faces of others. I learned to love the Christmas season again through the smiles of my husband and others, through the fun of Santa, Rudolph and Frosty, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “National Lampoon Christmas Vacation” and well perhaps a little bit of Jack Daniels! The opportunity to have a piece of my art on Christmas trees for years to come is the gift that continually gives to me throughout the year as I reflect on all the pieces I have been asked to create. After all, much of my comfort and the opportunity to be the sparkle that could shine brighter than most was achieved huddled beside a Christmas tree.

I will always be grateful for the kindness of the Salvation Army and the gifts of food and toys delivered by them that were provided by the thoughtful contributions of the community. If it weren’t for them, we would most certainly have had little to no food as we encountered at other times of the year. It was also the gift of confidence of a Salvation Army Santa and some paper and markers that helped me persist and do what I do today. If you have an opportunity to donate food, gifts or funds to them or any other service….it will undoubtedly make a difference….it did for me!

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and may you find the sparkle in you that can shine so brightly and give you the sense of warmth and love in the most trying times of life.


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Tis the season for Merry HO HO, making someone smile and celebrating cancer free years!

For those that have enjoyed seeing what I create during this wonderful HO HO season…here are some final pics of orders completed and some that were painted for Freewheel Cycle, The Dundas Speed Shop and myself. I was also certain that I had put my brush down for the holidays until this lovely little helper decided otherwise. Noticing my careless placement of a  recently completed ornament, she took the opportunity to see if it would bounce as her paw conveniently made contact and it was batted off the table. Despite my attempt at some matrix moves to prevent impact….I’m not Keanu Reeves…it was clear it was not shatter proof ! Since it was a custom order,  I picked up the brush, grabbed a bottle of Belgian beer and painted a replacement as my furry helper patted my shoulder as if to comfort me, then sat and watch to see if another batting opportunity would arise. This one went straight into a box!IMG_5114IMG_5125

IMG_5160 IMG_5156 IMG_5154 IMG_5152 IMG_5143 IMG_5118 IMG_5131 IMG_5137 IMG_5102 IMG_5095 IMG_5098 IMG_5099 IMG_5089 IMG_5058 IMG_5070 IMG_5066 IMG_5079 IMG_5082 IMG_5056 IMG_5046 IMG_5044 IMG_5037






These are some of the remaining pieces done. There were many more than I’ve posted throughout my blog but it would be too time consuming to look at all of them. Quite a few were done for the bike stores since they’ve been very popular at this time of year.


My Xmas cards on display at Freewheel Cycle in Dundas, Ontario.

Have a wonderful holidays season and thank you for sharing your time with me.

As I share this post with you today, this day a number of years ago was my last day of chemo and it is another wonderful day to celebrate. As you’ll see at the end of the blog, bald head and psyched to be alive…I have a bit more hair since then (yay…I’m a fan of hair) and I’m equally as psyched for each day as I was back then.

Remember to celebrate each day in any way possible…it truly is a privilege. As you go into this holiday season, be the best you can be…share your love and give the gift of time, it is after all, what most truly ask for.

The start of a new life!

No more chemo! It has been eight years since this picture and my original diagnosis and I am thankful for every year! Merry HO! HO!

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Santa’s helper….the finishing brush strokes!











It is my final day of painting and wow…what an adventure! It could not have happened without the support of my furry friend and more than a few bottles of Belgian beer! This picture is from last year but nothing has changed except that I have more clothes covered in paint.

I would like to thank everyone that ordered an ornament or five. Your kindness and belief in my artistic skill continues to provide me the privilege of having a part of my heart and love of the season hang on a Christmas tree for years to come. I would also like to thank all the others that ordered Christmas cards or just enjoyed my work from afar and sent me supportive comments. In times of fatigue and discomfort, your thoughtfulness lit me up like the Griswold’s home from “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation!” and the motivation to keep at it.

This process didn’t come without a few extremely unpleasant folks with rude and mean comments that required a thick skin. My skin is quite thick and actually kinda leathery but it did make me rethink why I spend hours on each piece and put my heart into every brush stroke.  After a few tears and the realization that there are cracks in my thick skin that let things creep in at times, I went and found some epoxy and closed up the cracks. The answer to why I have been doing this since the late 1980’s is because I love to make people smile, I love to create something that is sentimental and well….I just love Christmas. Being asked to have a part of my heart in someone else’s home is just AWESOME! So the not-so-pleasant folks just might be on the naughty list next year and I’ll put my energy into painting pieces for those that like what I do and don’t expect a million dollar painting on a round surface and believe $20 is asking too much.

Now after hundreds of ornaments complete, a couple of retail locations (Freewheel Cycle and Dundas Speed Shop) giving me an amazing opportunity to expand my artistic gifts, I will finally put the brush down for a bit.  Some of the other completed ornaments will be posted once I get a chance to spend some time with my other furry friend (my husband), actually drink a beer or glass of wine that I haven’t accidentally dipped my paint brush into and get a little Christmas shopping done….well just a little…shopping is one of my least favourite things to do.

Until then, if you see a wild gal, singing Christmas carols, wearing a Santa hat with probably a few blobs of paint on her hands, face and clothes, the sound of bells ringing from her waist, dashing around various locations…it’s probably me. Santa’s helpers’ job is never done and I’ll take every opportunity to bring a smile or a feeling of warmth to as many non-furry and furry friends as possible. Life is too short not to!

Wishing all of you a Merry HO! HO!  from our home to yours and in the words of Santa Claus….”HO! HO! HO!….MERRY CHRISTMAS!”


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Merry HO HO – Spitfire, Family fun and country living

Hey everyone:

Here are some of the latest collection of pieces that have been completed. A couple were incredibly challenging but an absolute privilege to asked to create. I’m still painting if these spark any ideas. Merry HO HO!


Family fun – (pic 1)


Family fun (pic 2)


Santa’s workshop – (pic 1)


Santa’s workshop (pic 2)


Kitties by the fire! Makes me warm and fuzzy!


Spitfire! A absolute privilege to paint this for a gentleman that use to fly these planes!


Combined effort! Just love this piece! (pic 1)


“Combined effort” – (pic 2)






Country Living (pic 1)


Country Living (pic 2)


Country Living (pic 3)


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Merry HO HO – skidoo, bicycles and painting history

Hey there:


Winter mountain biking – SOLD

So I’ve been slowly getting at the ornaments and decided to organize other parts of my art life. Here are a few of the custom pieces that have recently been completed.


Snowmobile (pic 2)


Snowmobile (Pic 1)




Snowmobile 2 (pic 1) This piece goes around the entire large ornament)


Snowmobile 2 – (Pic 2)



















As my eyes go blurry from long periods of painting…I decided to sort through some artwork that has been tucked away for some time. It was a treat to look back to the late 1980’s and what I enjoyed painting. The incredible detail in some of the pieces made me remember the countless hours I looked through a magnifier while painting to ensure that even the finest of details were done even if I would be the only one to hold a magnifier up to a painting! There are also some pieces of recent that fell between some cracks and it was exciting to find these little gems. That’s what happens when you paint a lot….you forget a lot the things you’ve done.


Vermont – 16×20 Acrylic on canvas board


Paris to Ancaster – 12×36 Acrylic on Gallery canvas


Paris to Ancaster – Powerline Mudslide – 12×18 Acrylic on canvas


Paris to Ancaster – Martin Road to the finish – 12×18 Acrylic on canvas

I’m putting these pieces up for sale just in case anyone is interested. You’ll be able to tell which of the pieces are from “back in the day” but the style still lives in the ornaments that I paint. For pricing, feel free to message me.  MERRY HO HO!!!!


Christmas in Vermont – 16×20 Acrylic on canvas board


Country Living – 16×20 Acrylic on canvas board


On the way home – 9×16 Acrylic on canvas


Last run – 9×12 Acrylic on canvas


Solo climbing – 6×12 acrylic on canvas


Coming home – 16×20 Acrylic on canvas board


Family Fun – 16×20 Acrylic on canvas board

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Merry HO HO — Cross country skiing, birds and bad xmas sweaters

Hi Everyone:

Here is the latest collection of pieces completed. Some were custom….I’m sure you’ll be able to tell…and one for fun! Please note that any custom orders must be provided by December 10th as I plan on having all orders completed by December 14th. I need a little HO HO time myself!

I am pleased to announce that the Dundas Speed Shop in Dundas, Ontario is all carrying a collection of ornaments and cards for purchase should you prefer to see what is available in person.


33. Cross country Santa (pic 1)


33. Cross country Santa (Pic 2)


33. Cross country Santa – (pic 3)















The hardest pieces I’ve ever had to paint have been family portraits and below is one of several I was asked to complete by a dear friend….he now owes me a lot of beer! It’s incredibly difficult trying to paint a face in small (let alone five of them) and not make them look like some kind of evil gnomes! I do enjoy the challenge of painting things I’ve never done before and feel very privilege to be asked to do such personal pieces including images of deceased pets and homes from the past.



Flower Garden – SOLD


Family pet – SOLD


Family pet – SOLD


Family portrait – SOLD – (The hardest thing I’ve ever had to paint)


Maritimes-Mabel (pic 2) – SOLD


Maritimes- Mabel (Pic 1) – SOLD


Maritimes – Mabel (Pic 3) – SOLD

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