Okay, it sort of goes without saying that my days don’t really come with a handy template. I have a million things to do, but usually a flexible enough schedule that I can chose which of them I will attempt to accomplish. The last three days have been dedicated to the relocation of tadpoles and frogs from the pool cover to their very own woodland pond. It is a bigger job than it should be. I didn’t open the pool last year, opting instead to wait for the frogs to hatch and then the tads to get to a point where I could move them – and then never quite getting around to it. This year – I’m wondering why I didn’t procrastinate again. There is no exercise at any gym that can prepare you for botanical muck dipping, sorting and tossing…well, alright, I wouldn’t actually know that, but I can assume. I have definitely awaken some monsters that are roaming the musculature of my body…loud, obnoxious and inconsiderate monsters that make me glad, for the nonce, that I don’t have anyone here to share the pain. It would not make for a relaxed evening at all.
BUT, I captured and moved both the King of the Frogs and the Frog Prince and about 10 dozen tadpoles in all stages of development. I kept wishing I had a kid there to help me – they would have loved to see evolution in action. Of course, I say this thinking of myself as a kid. There is no electronic component to tadpoles….
But it was a lovely thing to day these past couple of wonderful spring days….if not for the screaming muscles, I would be like, so totally zen right now.
King of the Frogs
The new palace
I am having a morning when I am frustrated with the limitations of art. I want to be able to paint the smell of the choke cherry in bloom, the sound of the bees, the color of the spring garden, the feel of the sun on my back, the taste of the coffee, and the abandonment to joy that is the play of the dogs. I want to put them all on canvas in one place, at one time so that I can relive this small moment of contentment over and over. Sometimes I picture the inside of my skull as a canvas, and it is on this that I paint. Success is only measurable when I have to pull this memory out to ward off unpleasantries, so until I see the completed picture, I remain somewhat frustrated. Nothing another cup of coffee won’t fix, mind you, or an amble through the woodland garden, but the painting is just meant to be as perfect as this moment. So let me set frustration aside and be grateful. This moment is a gift.
A ferocious attack on a cowering animal? I think not – Branagh is simply leaning back to assume her ultimate form – as Chainsaw…
Alright. Coming to me via Jesper in Copenhagen, fresh from The Voices of East Anglia (http://www.voicesofeastanglia.com/2014/02/voxmobile-bizarre-guitar-car.html) is this image – and while I sort of get the feeling that the article is dissing the VOX-mobile, I would love to have one. I’d love to have one. (For emphasis.) I’d love to go to a drag race with a bunch of them. I’d wear that dress with pink go-go boots, though. That’s just who I am…
I am beginning to get a nice collection of images of guitar cars. I went the other night to a party where the guy had an enormous collection of classic American convertibles (“I’m down to about 80,” says he) and a couple of Rolls Royce. I think I’d like to have a similar barn full of guitar cars. Hmm. I’m going to have to sell a whole lot more paintings. Okay. While I’m at this, I think I’ll also wear Patsy Cline’s pink cowboy hat…can’t be too careful about the sun…