"Rosie's Watch"

Plein-air painters expect to contend with insects, snakes, changing light, unpredictable weather, and the occasional curious passerby. What I never expected was to need protection from a threatening stranger—or for my sweet dog, Rosie, to become my fearless guardian.

Rosie’s Watch was painted from a scenic spot on Theodore Roosevelt Island, looking across the Potomac River toward Key Bridge and the historic Georgetown neighborhood. It is the fourth painting in my series: From My Backyard to the Ocean. The bridge’s enormous arches span the canvas, glowing in soft creams, golds, and lavender against the deep blue water. Beyond it, Georgetown’s colorful buildings and familiar church spires rise beneath a pink-and-blue sky. Reflections shimmer across the river, giving the scene a peaceful, almost dreamlike quality—completely at odds with the frightening experience unfolding behind me as I painted.

Nearby, Rock Creek completes its approximately 33-mile journey from Maryland, through Washington, D.C., and into the Potomac River. We are extraordinarily fortunate to have this beautiful green corridor running through our area. Rock Creek and its surrounding parkland offer a peaceful refuge from the traffic, buildings, and relentless activity of city life.

Theodore Roosevelt Island is an 88-acre national memorial honoring our nation’s 26th president, Theodore Roosevelt, who served from 1901 to 1909. Roosevelt is one of my favorite presidents. A naturalist from childhood, he loved wild places and believed strongly in conserving them for future generations. During his presidency, he established the United States Forest Service and protected millions of acres as national forests, parks, monuments, bird reserves, and wildlife refuges.

The island’s history, however, began long before it became a presidential memorial. Indigenous peoples lived throughout the Potomac River Valley for thousands of years. When Europeans arrived, the nearby Algonquian-speaking people were recorded under several variations of the name Nacotchtank. Early maps gave the island names such as Anacostein, which eventually evolved into Analostan.

The Mason family purchased the island in the early 1700s. In the 1790s, John Mason—the son of founding father George Mason IV—began developing a plantation and country estate there. Enslaved workers built its mansion, completed in 1802, along with its gardens and supporting structures. The Mason family left the island in 1833, and the mansion eventually deteriorated and was demolished.

In 1932, the Roosevelt Memorial Association purchased the island from the Washington Gas Light Company and transferred it to the federal government. Landscape architects worked to transform the neglected island into a woodland sanctuary honoring Roosevelt’s conservation legacy. The memorial plaza, with its towering bronze statue of Roosevelt, was formally dedicated in 1967.

Today, the island is maintained by the National Park Service and is home to woodland, marshes, birds, deer, snakes, and many other critters. Although visitors enter from the Virginia side of the Potomac, the island is officially part of Washington, D.C. That geographic arrangement became especially significant to me one afternoon while I was painting there.

It was a hot, oppressively humid day, with thunderstorms forecast for later in the afternoon. I was determined to make progress on my painting, so I decided to stay until the rain began to threaten. Because of the forecast, the island was unusually deserted. Fortunately, I had brought Rosie with me. By midday, I was completely engrossed in my work, trying to capture the monumental arches of Key Bridge, the colorful reflections on the Potomac, and Georgetown rising on the opposite shore. After painting for quite a while, I stood up to stretch my legs.

That was when I noticed a man pacing back and forth on the trail, about 30 feet from my painting spot beside the water. I felt uneasy, but I pretended not to notice him and sat back down to paint. A few minutes later, Rosie began to growl. I grabbed her leash and spun around. The man was now only about six feet away. He was coming toward me with a wild look in his eyes, screaming an obscenity and holding a sharpened stick.

Rosie immediately sprang into action. She lunged toward him, barking and growling with a ferocity I had never seen from her before. Startled by her response, the man threw the stick into the woods and ran away. Thank God for Rosie.

I was badly shaken and still nearly a mile from my car, so I called 911. My call was initially answered by Arlington dispatch and then transferred because the island falls within Washington, D.C. After I struggled to explain my exact location, the operator told me to do whatever I thought was necessary to remain safe and said that an officer would be sent to find me.

An hour passed, but no officer appeared. Then Rosie began staring intently at the trail behind us again. I stood up and turned around, fully prepared to scream. This time, however, I saw a sweet-faced young man approaching. He calmly explained that he had only come to watch me paint.

After I told him what had happened, the young man—an American University graduate named Joe—offered to walk me back to my car. He patiently waited while I packed all my painting supplies and then escorted Rosie and me through the woods.

Joe and my brave pup were my two angels that day. The police never arrived. The experience taught me that plein-air painters must think about more than canvases, supplies, changing light, and approaching storms. We also need to remain aware of our surroundings, particularly when working alone in an isolated place. Most importantly, whenever possible, I bring my faithful watchdog.

That is how Rosie’s Watch earned its name.