"Winter Clear," by John Dean Acrylic on canvas "After a day with the Cedars darkening in the cold of the thin winter sun, the light fades and the deep snow turns electric as it reflects the clear sky. The few remaining seedpods of summer shiver in the sharp breeze before the stars crystallize the night sky."
"Indian Camp," by John Dean Acrylic on canvas. "November's sun warmed my shoulders as it must have warmed the hides stretched on pine poles. It was quiet enough to hear the sound of Osage moccasins on the warm earth, in the brittle grass."
"Autumn Songs," by John Dean "I stop my car along the side of the road to halt the blur of the endless fields outside my window. I get out, walk up close to a small section of corn as it towers above me and listen. The breeze rattles and rustles as it scrapes past the scratchy leaves and rigid stalks still holding their summer bounty. Soon they will be harvested and chopped, but not before I hear the songs they play as they wait."
"South Facing," by John Dean Acrylic on canvas "The old barn at the top of the Hackmann hill didn't survive the developer's schemes. I saw it before it was destroyed with a carpet of the stubble of this season's corn spread before it, Basking in the warm mid-day sun of autumn, the barn held more memories than I can show. Now it will outlast the falling leaves. "