
Why I chose the worst winter in 30 years to move back north is a an unanswerable question, and shall remain an eternal mystery. But, finally, I no longer want to cry every time I step foot outside! The soft spring breeze wafts through my windows, I can smell the lilacs outside, and hear the birds singing sweetly...as I hunch palely over my Wacom tablet, scribbling furiously, making stupid artwork instead of being outside enjoying the beautiful weather. Heavy is the hand that wields the Silly Art stylus...





