“Gardens at Parmelee Farm” a Fine Art Oil Painting and Poem by Robert Frost “October”

Hi all,

Been some interesting October New England days here…..windy, rainy and crisp air. Today leaves falling, air is crisp, and a little bit windy, but the sun is creating a wonderful golden hue on the trees—Dan not able to paint today, and not happy!

Dan working on the Parmelee Farm piece

Completed painting “Gardens at Parmelee Farm” (Killingworth, CT)

Parmelee Farm was purchased by the Town of Killingworth, Connecticut in 2000. The farm has 131 acres, which includes wonderful trails for hiking, walking, bird watching or horseback riding. It is also a place that the community can plant gardens. This painting depicts one of the gardens and barns, and will be on display at the Essex Library, Essex, Connecticut during the month of November 2014. Dan is the Featured Artist for the month, and there will be a “Meet and Greet” at the library on November 8th…Sat in the afternoon. Light refreshments will be served.

Essex Library, Essex, Connecticut

This will be Dan’s next painting, and will be on display at the library. It is an iconic scene of Essex, Connecticut. The ducks are rushing toward him because they thought he was going to feed them. So bad!

The size of this canvas is 24″ (w) x 36″ (l), and he is now prepping the canvas, which is linen. Will keep you posted of the progress.

October by Robert Frost

Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874 in San Francisco, CA and died on January 29, 1963.

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost–
For the grapes’ sake along the wall

Wishing you a good one!
Us…..Nancy (the blogger) and Dan (the artist)

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