Portrait the Artist as a Young Father

Hot summer nights we’d lie in the cool grass of our front yard and watch the sky. Every shining star a miracle and a friend to us. The lightning bugs would do their best to mimic the twinkling and do their own “dance of light” to our delight. We’d collect them in a Mason jar with tiny holes in the top and smell their scent mixed with honeysuckle on our fingers…

READ THE ARTICLE BY LOUIS JONES>>   (As seen in Portfolio Weekly)