Bruce Van Patter
As a freelance illustrator, graphic recorder, and author, Bruce is on a lifelong journey to delight in the handiwork of the Creator. And he’s always ready for fellow travelers.
The Amish girl behind the counter at the Farmer’s Market views me with puzzlement as I take a photo of the bags of flour in her stall. But when I make my purchase, she gives me her usual parting words, “Have a great deh.”
While packing today, I come across two figurines in my bureau drawer. I have long forgotten why I put them there. But they make an odd combination: Horus and Batman.
I sit down in a new sanctuary – recently built and new to me. I lift my eyes to the front of the sanctuary and there I see a cross unlike any other I have seen. For it is made entirely of light.
On the way to see my son’s new office in Harrisonburg, Virginia, we walk past a sculpture that captures the dismay I feel about the latest school shooting.
I am alone in the woods and walking on water. And through water. And under water. And by water. Water, water, everywhere.
When I want a feel for a town, I don’t head for Main Street. That’s for the tourists and TripAdvisor junkies. For me, nothing gives an unvarnished feel for a place like an alley.
Wedged between a large man and the plane window, I wonder where else in our society a person has to have constant contact with a stranger for four straight hours.
Sunlight is often playful. Today it sneaks through a window in the room where I am prepping for a meeting and selects one word out of all that I’ve written. Challenges. Is that some kind of sunny joke?
Her face is striking, even seen through the window of a moving car: pale, beautiful, slightly anxious. I only catch a glimpse as we pass. Later, I have to walk back to get a better look.
Traffic is moderate on the dreaded I-95 when my phone reminds me to pay attention. The industrial landscape around Baltimore did not look very promising for a post. But then, ahead, I saw it.