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Sojourn South of the Yellow Rio Grande
-Part 2- I awoke with a soft pillow under-head, but the smoke from my breath reminded me of the altitude of our Mexican little hamlet,...


Sojourn South of the Yellow Rio Grande
-Part 1- Bertram Goodhue’s first publication in his early 20’s, A Somewhat Sojourn South of the Yellow Rio Grande was a small journal...


The Art of the Landscape and the Architect
~ Part 3 ~ I have found that art has a tremendous capacity to capture memories. I’m not referring to the post card painting of Mt....


The Art of the Landscape and the Architect
-Part 2- For centuries architects have looked to artists for the interpretation of place. Artists such as Eugene Delacroix, David Brown,...


I used to be an Architect
One March, I thought it might be nice to take my family along for a site visit in the Bahamas. The kids had Spring Break and I could take...


The Texas Farm
After recently spending the day at the farm outside of Athens, a small town in north central Texas, it only reinforced the cultural and...


Memories of an English Garden
I was driving my family down a tight country lane in the Cotswold’s, following dry-stacked stone walls. Motoring along on the other side...


Butcher Ranch – Part Two
Read Butcher Ranch – Part One “We had a recent article on Houzz, where there was an immense amount of feedback; some on the house that I...


Butcher Ranch – Part One
We had a recent article on Houzz, where there was an immense amount of feedback; some on the house that I had designed, yes; but more so,...


Stop and Smell the Ink
Michael’s Sketch of Villa Capra (Villa Rotunda) John Ruskin had once said, “To draw the Leaf, is to know the Forest.” For generations...


The Rug
As I negotiate my way through the crowd I become mute and dumb, so that entrepreneurial tour guides don’t latch on to another hapless...


My Father’s Hands
I awoke one morning to find I had my father’s hands. We often hear others say, “you have your mother’s eyes,” or, “your father’s nose”....


Paris in the Snow
I love Europe in the winter. I’ve seen Paris and Florence in the snow. I’ve seen the gentle rolling English countryside freshly dusted...
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