Elizabeth Melton Parsons



Girl Walking Away on Beach

Another Art Sherpa inspiration piece in acrylic. My phone didn’t quite get the colors and highlights right, especially the hair. But I like the painting in person.



Girl on Beach – Acrylic Painting

Saw the Art Sherpa paint this on YouTube and thought it was beautiful. Had to give it a try, even though I very rarely due figures.  I didn’t paint along but did mine at a later time so it is somewhat different. But I like it. Pretty sad photo of it, but the best I could do with bad indoor lighting and a cheap cell phone.



Cookies and Poinsettias

Eric and I decided to make cookies. Bad idea since I want to lose 10 pounds and they are so good. Guess the diet will have to be put on hold. 🙂  We made snickerdoodles (my favorite), golden sprinkle, peanut butter kiss cookies (minus the peanut butter cause I’m allergic) and lots of these cute little guys. Eric decorated these. And I added the poinsettia photos because they’re pretty.


My Books Free for Christmas

Just a heads up for anyone looking for some free holiday reads. My books are free on Kindle through Christmas. ( Dec. 22 – Dec. 26) Just search for E. G. Parsons on Amazon or use links located here on my book pages. Love and hugs to all my blog buddies. ❤


10 Year Anniversary with WordPress

Today is my 10th anniversary on WordPress. Time does have a way of moving along, doesn’t it? Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Below is a copy of my very first post from 10 years ago.


Another Blog? By Who?

First, I’d like to thank that wonderful lady from down under (Debbie Stevens) for putting me onto Word Press. Thanks, Deb.

Don’t you just love blogging? This is my fourth and I know people who have as many as ten. Amazing…! I haven’t decided yet what kind of blog this will be. I’m thinking along the lines of personal, rambling thoughts and day to day happenings in my life. Snooze……zzzzzzzz. Truly inspired, right? I live in a tiny rural community, so nothing of interest could possibly happen. Ah…not true. There have been some exciting, bazzar, and sometimes tragic occurrences around here. I doubt I will ever be at a loss for something to write about. And if ever I am, I’ll just blog about my dog, Charlie. Now there’s an interesting character.

Charlie is a seven-year-old 95 pound boxer, but he doesn’t know this. He has multiple personality disorder. Sometimes he imagines he’s Kudjo, sometimes a kitten or a human toddler, and at other times, he’s an opinionated politician. Charlie has more personality that I can sometimes deal with, but I love him inspite of that or perhaps because of it.

If you’ve stumbled onto my blog looking for something interesting and you’ve read this far without falling asleep–you are probably wondering who I am. If you’re bored and have nothing better to do, you can google me. That’s my real name up there on the top of the page, but I also write under the name E. G. Parsons. My coffee cup needs refilling, so I will say goodbye for now. Thanks for stopping by, come back any time. The door is always open.

Song of the River



The snow melts on the mountain
And the water runs down to the spring,
And the spring in a turbulent fountain,
With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river,
And the river flows on to the sea,
And the water again
Goes back in rain
To the hills where it used to be.
And I wonder if Life’s deep mystery
Isn’t much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity
To the places it used to know.

For life was born on the lofty heights
And flows in a laughing stream
To the river below
Whose onward flow
Ends in a peaceful dream.
And so at last,
When our life has passed
And the river has run its course,
It again goes back,
O’er the selfsame track,
To the mountain which was its source.

So why prize life
Or why fear death,
Or dread what is to be?
The river ran its allotted span
Till it reached the silent sea.
Then the water harked back to the mountaintop
To begin its course once more.

So we shall run the course begun
Till we reach the silent shore,
Then revisit earth in a pure rebirth
From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don’t ask why we live or die,
Or wither, or when we go,
Or wonder about the mysteries
That only God may know.

Clear Dotby William Randolph Hearst

More Acrylic Paintings


This gallery contains 11 photos