I see I'm not the only illustrator who sees themselves as religious Icons. I don't really, but without the glowing halo, I felt it was too serious, quaint.
Here are the thoughts behind the image.
It's summer 1973. My family still lived in an apartment and my parents were just about to purchase a house a few miles away. The apartment was in a house on the outskirts of New Haven. My father treated the yard as his, putting in an above ground pool, a treehouse and a log cabin for my brothers and I to play in. Behind the house was a hill that went up to a line of trees. The hill was one of tall grass that in the late summer was golden hay that you could lay on and roll on top of. I used to climb the trees at the top of the hill and look out over the yard, Mammoth Mart across the street, and East Rock in New Haven.
A year later we lived in the new house, I played more sports than the kind of daydream play I used to do, and my father had passed.
The painting is of that time before.