|Snow filled the air|
from Birch to woods beyond
A dancing fog.
|The storm was supposed to come in at 4PM. This was my|
road home at 12:30 PM. The street had been clear and dry
forty five minutes earlier.
The market had changed. What was there then was somewhere else. I did a lot of walking back and forth trying to fantasize I was on my way to the beach. It didn't work very well, but as long as I kept thinking of the aquamarine sea I managed to round up what was on my list. The snow began falling while I was in the checkout line talking to too TG older than me ladies. We were remembering when phone number began with a two letter exchange. The clerk, a young woman, had no idea what we were talking about or why we were laughing over the Tuxedo exchange.
|My woods 8 AM this morning, an hour|
and forty some minutes after sunrise.
Do you see why I was up for every
sunrise by the seashore. 'How bleak was
Buffalo,' (Auntie Mame).
I shot the featured photo from the entrance to the garage after unloading the bounty. The peace of the scene got to me. I would need it. Honey was asleep in his lounge chair covered with a comforter. He didn't look himself. It was going to be another day of Clara Barton, nurse and chief cook and bottle washer.
Today when I came down to breakfast, Honey scolded me for what a mess the kitchen was is in and how could I have left the trash so close to the back door, (so I didn't have to go out into the cold garage to empty wastebaskets full of snot rags). He had emptied the dishwasher, plunged the tricky toilet, took the laundry upstairs and the sundry goods down to the pantry. My Honey was back. --At least for this morning.
I'm back too. Honey's illness brought me back to taking some responsibility around here. For four years I let my nudgies--the cancer, the knee, the vertigo--get in the way of doing my share. The fear from those maladies pushed me into hiding in the studio--not a bad place to hide--but within reason. Working with my photo art archives, I know I was 100% unreasonable. I took advantage of Honey and he let me. I'm very fortunate to have latched on to this guy early on-- proving that when you see something (someone) you like, write his name all over your high school text books, put on some mascara and be available whenever.
|Winter, Four Season Quadtyck; 20" x 20"; Acrylics|
Winter, Four Seasons is a done deal. There's more to do on this one. Gnarly landscapes may be as strong a preference as portraiture--the better to plein air with this Spring. In the new year, I'm going to move away from watercolor back to the mediums I understand and have an affinity for: pastels for small works, oils and acrylics for larger ones--charcoal always for getting a feel for the subject, the composition, the values. Pencil when I'm too lazy to stand at the easel and want to sit on something cushy.