The First Miracle of the Day

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  THE FIRST MIRACLE OF THE DAY The sandhill crane enters the race at daybreak, declaring she would be president of the day with her promise of flight and her lopsided laugh through that window I forgot to… Read More

The White Birds

The White Birds –after Thomas McGrath   They return in moments, the white birds to your body to once more become your body

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My tree is growing. Its slow going because I am allowing it to be slow going, as I work out composition and scrabble in my scrap bin for the perfect little bit. I love working on this.

Tonight’s sketchbook visitor got rowdy and somehow got paint on my new phone that I’ve only had a few hours. It was inevitable. But still.

We got art night going on here. He’s making a flaming duck handle for his ice fishing pole. It may or may not get Shelby stripes. It’s a pike killer, for sure.

Three blocks down, 13 more to go. Nothing earth shattering, yet. I love working on this and thinking about the people and love and struggle and joy these colors represent. So much beauty in this world and we all have a right to be part of it. In fact, it’s only beautiful, if we are all part of it. The super hard part is coming up, but I’m feeling ok, because notice, if you will, the Y seam on that top block that went together like buttah.

Last night’s visitor is this morning’s sketchbook study.

Can you find the hare?