It is March. From the window above my desk, I can see geese heading north making a graceful “V” against the pale spring sky. Some ducks have stopped to rest at the lake on the bottom of the hill. The patterns these migrating wildfowl make as they wing their way.
When Frank W. Benson returned from two years of study at the Academie Julian in Paris he hung out his shingle and began painting portraits as quickly as he could. He'd just become engaged to a childhood friend, Ellen Peirson, and needed to prove to her widowed mother that he could.