There used to be this wonderful arched gate nestled into a walled courtyard I would pass in Georgetown that boasted a marvelous coif of trumpet vine. I think that is what was in my minds eye when I planted the vine and installed the blue gate. It was one of those lyrics of place that I never painted and wished I had. Perhaps I lacked the wisdom then to appreciate what I saw on a daily walk. I was far to busy trekking up the banks of the Potomac river seeking out the unusual and adventuresome. This little painting is my homage to the lost lyric.