DORMIR SOUS UN CYPRES

"Dormir sous un cyprès, or “to sleep under a cypress” means to be dead."

I left it for dead.

When I was inspired to paint The Quiet Garden, it was after I had come upon a beautiful garden behind The Saint John the Baptist Anglican Church in Richmond, Ontario, next to the church graveyard. But, I failed in capturing the serene landscape of The Quiet Garden and tossed the painting into the woodpile.

Sometimes, what I have in mind does not always turn out the way I conceive it in my mind. Now, I have arrived where the road leads to though not so sure how to go on. I will need to give it some thought before I make my next brush stroke.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;


Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.


I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


~Robert Frost