Small Owl

Small Owl / oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $48 including shipping

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THERE'S AN AD ON TV - I think it's for replacement windows - that proclaims that "Faster is better." 

This morning, I started wondering about that statement. Initially, I thought that it was all wrong, that, in fact, most times, slower is better. 

But is it? Is there some inherent value in slowness? I do think there's a benefit to slowing down in life - to taking the time to look around, to contemplate, to wonder. But all the time? Would I want a generally slower life? The covid, and Peter's death, have forced me into a somewhat slower life than I used to have, and while that is OK for now - and good thing it is, since I can't change it - I certainly wouldn't want it to be even slower. 

I tend to work very fast. In journalism, speed (with accuracy) is a treasured commodity, and I had it. 

Now, I paint fast. Very fast. This used to worry me - but then I read that Vincent Van Gogh always painted as quickly as he could - and I think I understand why. By painting quickly, you outrun the voice that tells you that you suck, that you're the worst painter in the world, and that surely, that mark there, or that one there, or those three dozen there, are wrong wrong wrong. Paint quickly enough and you're gone before the voice starts its utterance.

So, I don't know. Maybe faster is better. 

I bet the window installers wish people would spend as much time thinking about their product as I've spent thinking about their slogan. 

***

For Today

Poetry of a different type. I hope you will take some time to go through the site. Slowly! 

https://www.livingyourwildcreativity.com/art-gallery-1-mitchell-1

Wren Looking Down

Wren Looking Down / oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $38 includes shipping

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MY BRAVE AND HAPPY DOGS have a few deep terrors, and they were all on display last night.

Lulu never showed any fear of anything until Independence Day. A neighbor down the street had been setting off fireworks for hours, and while the dogs were in the house, none had paid them any mind. But while Doc and Lulu were still out, a couple fireworks went off, and I found Lulu huddled on the doorstep, shaking.

Last night, thunder boomed and lightning sparked, and through the storm was miles away, (sadly - we've had no rain since June), it was enough to make Lulu plaster herself against me, where she stayed all night, hot and solid, but apparently safe enough, with me to guard her.

Terror No. 2 was Koko's, and I caused it, knowingly.

Though I am living in a cave these brutally hot days, with all the curtains drawn and only the most necessary lights on, I'd foolishly cooked a pan of quinoa, and the heat from that one culinary endeavor had pumped the temp in the living room into the 80s - and this, despite the fact that the A/C is working as well as it can.

So I apologized to my dear Carolina Dog, and then I turned on the ceiling fan and watched as Terror No. 2 took hold. Koko's ears flattened, her tail went between her legs and she ran, slinking, low to the ground, into the bedroom, where she stayed until long after I'd shut off the fan. Because of her, I almost never use it, but it sure cooled the house down.

Terror No. 3 came as we were going to bed. Koko, Woody, Lulu and I were in bed, but Doc was... where was he? I called. Nothing. No little clicking toenails, no lumpish flop on the other corner of the bed. I got up, to make sure I hadn't left him in the yard, and no, I hadn't. He was inside - standing near the place where the living room ends and you turn to go into my bedroom.

This is apparently a scary corner - Abby used to be regularly afraid of it, for no reason that anyone could ever see. And here was Doc, clearly terrified and unwilling to walk past whatever it was. Far as I could see, it was nothing. An unadorned corner. Haunted? A sudden memory of Puffy? (From time to time, she would sit in that corner and swat the dogs).

I saw nothing. A box on the floor seemed to be capturing his attention - but it had been there for days, so it seemed unlikely that this was the Scary Thing. Still, I moved it and called him and called him and finally, he scrabbled around the corner, nails slipping on the fake-wood floor, like a cartoon dog whose paws spin and spin before gaining purchase. I am glad to report that he made it safely into the bedroom.

I always wonder what they can see and hear and sense that we don't - and most days, I'd do pretty much anything to trade places for five minutes. But not last night!

Here's everybody, safe and sound. That's Koko in the back, with the big ears. Lulu Belle is lower left, and Dr. Cooper is snuggled in between the girls. 

***

For Today

"We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us."

- Anonymous

Crow with Red Legs

Crow with Red Legs / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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DO YOU ALL KNOW about tomatoes and mint? They taste amazing together! 

For my birthday last year, Peter made me an herb garden. He planted lavender, mint, lemon thyme, cilantro and sage, in pots just outside the back door. 

I also have a big pot of rosemary, years old, a couple pots of chives and a small pot of wilty basil. 

I had a half-dozen tomatoes from my friend Anne's garden, so I set about making a tomato salad, and went out to the herb garden and picked basil, rosemary, lemon thyme and, what the heck, mint. 

So here is the salad: Slice your tomatoes, and put them in a layer on a platter or a plastic container, for those of us who are utilitarian about such things. Feel free to add cucumbers, if you have them. Sprinkle that first layer with a touch of sugar, plenty of salt and pepper, and a bit of olive oil and balsamic. 

Then put down your herbs. Then add another layer of tomatoes, and again the sugar, salt, pepper, oil and balsamic, and up and up, herbs and tomatoes or cukes or both, until you run out of room or tomatoes or both. Let it sit for a few hours, if you can. It gets more and more delicious. 

And the best part was that this afternoon, I put a whole layer of mint in - and good heavens, it's amazing! Maybe everyone knows about this, but I've never had those two tastes together - and I wish I had. I will have this every day that I can, as long as the tomatoes keep coming. Summer on a plate.

***
For Today

"It's your road, and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you."

- Rumi

Cedar Waxwing

Cedar Waxwing / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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SOMEONE SAID TO ME ONCE that there are people who correct other people's grammar, and then there are all the nice people. 

So, farewell to my status as a nice person... though I am not sure this is actually "correcting," and I am not sure it qualifies as "grammar." 

I think it's a little more of a rant. And it is this: I am campaigning against "pre," and the way we use it. Pre-plan your funeral. Pre-heat your oven. Pre-order your meal. Pre-sliced cheesecake. 

Really? Isn't "pre-planning" what you do BEFORE you plan? Don't you just heat your oven? Order your meal? And isn't pre-sliced cheesecake cheesecake that, in fact, has NOT been sliced? 

***

For Today

"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all." 

- Helen Keller

Singing Wren

Singing Wren / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

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I'VE BEEN WANTING to get rid of Peter's couch, the couch where he was lying when he had the heart attack that killed him. He didn't die on that couch, and certainly, that couch had nothing to do with his death, but every time I looked at it, I remembered. And so I'd come to hate it. I had covered it with a sheet and pretty much given it to the dogs. But I wanted it out of my life. 

A friend introduced me to Pastor Rob, who has started a second-hand store a bit south of here. Items and money from the store help people who have just gotten out of rehab and jail. 

On Tuesday, when it was too hot in the studio to paint, I spent a few hours going through Peter's office stuff, and throwing a lot of it away. I tossed 23 of the 25 issues of B&W Magazine, which showcased a photograph of his that had placed in a nationwide contest. I tossed 15 of 18 CDs of his pictures, CDs he had made to send to shows, back when entry regs required CDs and not just online examples. I threw away his dog-chewed copy of "Covenant," which he had read more times than I ever knew. And I threw out a shoebox full of sympathy cards. I read them all, and appreciated each one, but I could not keep them. It was a box of sorrow. This was difficult, all of this. 

Later that day, Rob and Steve came over and got the couch and two of the five bookcases we had. As they drove away, my heart broke again and again. I felt like I had broken again. 

I knew I wanted this stuff gone, had to have it gone. Of course, there were the memories, buying the bookshelves together, assembling the couch - and those memories were part of what hit me. But seeing those things go, I had my first real look at the next phase of my life, and my first real, true understanding that this next part will be without him. 

I've been able to paint, and cook, to deal with the dogs, to shop and garden and see my friends because I did them when he was alive. They are through-lines - and so, doing them has not signified as life without him. 

But when Pastor Rob drove off, I saw - for the first time, in a visceral, heartfelt, non-intellectual way, that the next part of my life will not have Peter in it. And I understood for the first time, why I've been able - with relative ease - to do some things in this life, and have been totally unable to do many other things. 

***

For Today

"A year from now, you will wish you had started today." 

- Karen Lamb

Kingfisher Looking Up

Kingfisher Looking Up / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

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THE HEAT SWALLOWS ME in one gulp, and in the next, sucks down the world around me. We churn in the stomach of this thing, digested by the torpor, by air so humid, it's like breathing water. Like breathing espresso. Like breathing the inside of my body. 

How can I drink coffee when it's this hot? I don't know, but I can - and I enjoy the tasty thought that my insides are now as warm as my outsides. 

***
For Today

"It's never too late to be who you might have been."

- George Elliott

Hummer at Red Flower

Hummer at Red Flower / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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TODAY AND YESTERDAY, in the amazing, heavy, mind-blurring heat, I've decided to take it easy. I've stayed inside, in the air-conditioning, napping and reading and watching "Silent Witness," a British crime drama that goes on for season after season after season. 

It's never hot in British shows, have you noticed? It rains, sure, and sometimes there's snow, or weather identifiable as "winter," but I've never seen a character wearing shorts (except for tennis) or sweating, or even looking like she is out on a hot summer day. Or am I just thinking narrowly? 

In the heat here, the ants seem to have found magically instant paths to invade the hummingbird feeders, and of course, the hummers won't go near them with the ants - would you? So I've taken the feeders down for the time being. I miss them! Miss the buzz and blur of the birds, their nasty battles for dominance and ownership, their beautiful colors flashing in the sun. In a day or so, I will try again. There are plenty of flowers available here on the shore, so I think the hummers will be OK until my feeders go back up. 

***

For Today

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." 

- Neale Donald Walsch

Red-Winged Crow

Red-Winged Crow / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

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WELL, I HAD A LAUGH that started yesterday and continued well into today. Thought I would share it, since I do share all my woes and tribulations, and it's good that you all know that my life is not an endless series of gray and depressing days.

Since The Great Confinement began, I've been giving a series of free painting workshops on Saturdays, (at 1 p.m. Eastern, on my Carrie Jacobson, Artist Facebook page). 

Usually, 20-25 people tune in. Many paint, some just watch, and some watch during the live workshop and paint afterwards, watching the videos (they are archived on my Carrie Jacobson Workshop Videos Facebook page). 

Regular participants include the Wachapreague postmaster, Alena, and her mother, Darlene. They both make art, Alena generally with pastels, and Darlene, with a variety of media. Alena is a good and enthusiastic painter; Darlene is very talented, very experienced, and back to painting after a long absence. You can see her work on her Facebook page, Paper Moon Studio. 

They joined in this past Saturday, as we painted a wading egret. When I was about 10 minutes into the painting, Darlene posted that she wanted to buy it. That totally cracked me up - not only was I not finished with the painting - but I was barely started! 

I laughed and said, sure, and that maybe I should just end the painting and the workshop right there, and call it a day. It really made me laugh. I've had people buy paintings before they were finished, but never when they were just barely started. Honestly, I thought she was kidding. 

But this afternoon, I got a text from Alena, wanting to know when she and Darlene could come and get the painting! Hahahaha!! She actually DID want it, and she KNEW it, right then and there, before it was even one-third done. Still has me laughing and shaking my head. 

What a lovely world this can be. 

***

For Today

"Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark." 

-Rabindranath Tagore

Barred Owl

Barred Owl / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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THESE LONG SUMMER DAYS seem endless. I try hard not to ask the big questions - where I will go, what I will do, how I will solve the riddle of my life - because when I start thinking like that, there is just too much time. Too many minutes. Too much daylight. The brutality of an 8:30 sunset becomes unimaginable, and all I want is darkness, and for it to be OK to go to bed, shut down the day, close off the questions, make my mind be quiet. 

So instead, I focus on the things that I can do. The answers I can come up with. I can vacuum the house. I can put the dishes away. I can make a 5x7 painting of a bird. I can't make the sun set, or bring Peter back, or answer even one of the big questions. But I can brush a dog, make another pot of coffee, figure out what bird to paint next. 

***

For Today

"I don't ask for the meaning of the song of a bird or the rising of the sun on a misty morning. There they are, and they are beautiful." 

- Pete Hamill

Wading Egret

Wading Egret / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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WALK WITH ME, and remember love, and joy, and nothing-afternoons of long, slanting sun, he day's heat gathered in the broad spaces and narrow corners of the yard. The warm evening does nothing to chase it away, but in the shadows, and along the marsh, where I walk, the breeze lifts a cool finger, touches my heart, makes me remember, makes me wish, makes me want to be whole again. 

*** 

For Today

"It's impossible to explain creativity. It's like asking a bird, 'How do you fly?' You just do." 

- Eric Jerome Dickey

Red-Tailed Hawk

Red-tailed Hawk / oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $38 including shipping

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A FRIEND'S HUSBAND DIED Monday, after a long and wearing illness. He'd been in a nursing home since January, and since April, with one exception, my friend had not been able to see him, because of the covid. 

The exception was last week, when he was very sick, and had been taken to a hospital, and she was allowed in, and could touch him and kiss him and hold his hand. 

It feels like there has been a lot of death lately, or maybe I am just noticing it more. 

The one thing I have learned from all of it is that it's up to me to live, as strongly and as bravely and as appreciatively as I can, every day, every hour, every minute. I owe it to Peter, to my mother, and I owe it to my family and my friends, and most of all, I owe it to myself. 

***

For Today

"In many traditions, hawks are sacred: Apollo's messengers for the Greeks, sun symbols for the ancient Egyptians and, in the case of the Lakota Sioux, 

embodiments of clear vision, speed and single-minded dedication." 

- John Burnside

Kingfisher

Kingfisher / Oil on black canvas / 4x12 / $88 including shipping

sold! 

AT LONG LAST, RAIN is falling here in Wachapreague. It is just a passing shower, but even so, it's something. Water. Moisture. Something to soften the crisp, brown grass in my yard. Hold down the dust. Wet the shriveling leaves of my hollyhocks. Give the farmers even a thought of something other than desperate disaster.

And so, I rejoice. Even if it is only a little rain, it is respite. It is a break. It is a relief. It's something different! And the birds are loving it. They are already bathing in a little puddle in the road. 

***

For Today

"Great art picks up where nature ends."

- Marc Chagall

Mr. Chicken

Mr. Chicken / oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

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CHICKENS ARE PART OF THE FAMILY in quite a few homes around here. By now, I'm familiar with the ones I drive by regularly, and I make sure I slow down, not only to keep from hitting the chickens, but mostly, so I can see them. 

I like the way they walk, and the indignation I imagine I see on their little faces as I drive near their territory. I like their front-heavy bodies, and their often brilliant feathers. Peter collected all sorts of feathers for his fly-tying, and introduced me to many types of brightly colored chickens. I've also learned that people sometimes collect chickens just for the color of the shells of the eggs the birds lay. 

My friend Diana Davis (https://www.facebook.com/dianadaviswatercolor/) is a wizard at painting chickens, and I've learned a lot from looking at her paintings. Hope you take a look! 

***

For Today

"Those who do not want to imitate anything produce nothing." 

- Salvador Dali

Two Wrens

Two Wrens / Oil on black canvas / 4x12 / 
$72 sale price, including shipping / $68 for blog readers! 

sold!

THE VIRTUAL SIDEWALK SALE of the Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts is now on - and it runs through Sunday. Most of my current available paintings are on sale, on my website, Jacobson Arts (http://jacobson-arts.com), and shipping is free during the sale. 

Because you all are so faithful and supportive, you get a special deal on this painting, or on any of the paintings on the website. If you want any of them - and you want an additional discount (some people do not!), please email me and I'll let you know the blog-reader price. It might not be much off, but to show my appreciation for your faithful readership, I will take at least a bit more off, if you like. 

***

For Today

He who shall hurt the little wren

Shall never be beloved by men. 

- William Blake

Ruffled

Ruffled / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 - free shipping! 

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THE VIRTUAL SIDEWALK SALE of the virtual Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts starts Thursday, and I am participating. Most of the paintings on my website, Jacobson Arts, are on sale, and shipping or delivery is free. (I am hoping that someone from Alaska doesn't buy my 48x60 inch floral painting!). 

The small paintings aren't on sale - except to you, my loyal blog readers, and also to my patrons. And you blog readers can get an extra discount on the larger paintings if you like - just let me know, in the email you send to buy the painting (you will understand this when you do it) that you're a loyal reader of this blog, and I'll email you the discounted price, and you can decide whether you want to buy the painting at that price. 

As always, installment plans are available. If you want the painting, I will find a way to get it to you.

***
For Today

I RECEIVE A REGULAR, free newsletter called The Painter's Keys. It often has wonderful stories, ideas, prompts. This one delighted me, and I will keep it to send out to all the people who tell me all the reasons they can't get around to painting. Here's the link: https://painterskeys.com/sixteen-reasons-wont-paint-today/

Starling

Starling / Oil on black canvas / 5x5 / $68 including shipping

This bird has flown!

OK, THE WHOLE LONG NASTY story of starlings rang in my ears as I painted this, but I found myself admiring them. Being impressed by their resourcefulness, their success at survival. Their resilience. 

They are not native to North America, though by now, they might as well be. They compete for food and for nests, and they often win. They are so amazing at finding feeders and emptying them that many people, myself included, take the feeders in regularly when the starlings come to call. 

So, yes, they are pests, they are invasive, they cause lots of damage to crops and animal feed. They disrupt backyard ecosystems... but they are kind of pretty, in a dark and glinting, emerald and ebony sort of way. 

***

My Loyal Blog Readers

STARTING THURSDAY, my larger paintings will be on sale on my website, Jacobson Arts (http://jacobson-arts.com). 

The small paintings will not be discounted, though shipping will be free for nearly everything. But if you loyal blog readers buy any painting, during my Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts virtual show and sale, please make sure I know that you're a blog reader, and you will receive an extra discount - if you want it - on even the small pieces. 

***

For Today

The Germ

A mighty creature is the germ,

Though smaller than the pachyderm.

His customary dwelling place

is deep within the human race.

His childish pride he often pleases

by giving people strange diseases.

Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?

You probably contain a germ. 

- Ogden Nash

Red-Tailed Hawk

Red-Tailed Hawk / Oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $48 including shipping

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I FIND MYSELF WANTING to go places - even planning to go places - and then waffling, or pulling back entirely, because of the covid, and now, because of the new explosions of the covid. 

And when I look ahead, there seems no end to it. 

So I am remembering, again and again, to look on this time as a precious gift. Reminding myself to Live in This Moment. To be patient. To be kind. To try to be good to someone else. Do something to improve someone's day. 

It is not easy. What is easy is slipping back into my impatient, self-focused, hurried, complaining life. 

So I am trying to stay upright, to be grateful, and to look upon this as a special, different, positive time. 

***

For Today

Dead Tired

Walking very slowly

I looked up

And saw six red-tailed hawks

Circling over and over

Above my head. 

Pointing it out to my friend,

She said,

"Something must have died!"

Looking about

The area was empty

Except for me.

I began to move

A bit more quickly. 

- C.J. Krieger

Crow

Crow / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 including shipping

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A FEW WEEKS AGO, I made a painting for Erika and Paul, in celebration of the five-year anniversary of their wedding. In it, I made a breakthrough - I think. 

It's something I've been edging up to for years - using colors not for their colors, exactly, but for their light and dark values - at least in part. 

So I'm not reaching for blue because it's "blue," necessarily, but because it's a dark, cool shade that recedes from your eyes, and speaks of "shadows" and "underneath" and "farther away." 

Reds and yellows and oranges - the hot colors - speak to me of sunlight and brilliance, the tops of things, the bright bits. Whether they are really, truly red or orange or yellow or pink ceases to matter (mostly). They are the shining parts of the painting. 

In a way, I think, in that painting for Erika and Paul, and in many of my paintings, more or less, over the years, I am choosing colors for the jobs they do, rather than the colors they are. 

Though I've been painting this way for a while, I believe, this is the first glimmer of understanding I've had about it. I still don't totally get it - and, in fact, I might be wrong. But now that I have this idea, I'm experimenting with it, as in the crow above. 

So let me know what you think. I am sure I'm not the first person who's used color like this. If you like it or hate it, I'm interested to hear. If you know others who paint like this, or who painted like this, please tell me. 

Meantime, here's the painting I made for Erika and Paul: 

***
For Today

Consolation

How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,

wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hill towns.

How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,

fully grasping the meaning of every road sign and billboard

and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots. 

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous

domes and there is no need to memorize a succession

of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.

No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's

little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home

than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.

Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?

Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyed camera

eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a cafe ignorant of the word for ice,

I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress

known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning

paper, all language barriers down,

rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way. 

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone 

willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.

I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal

what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.

It is enough to climb back into the car

as if it were the great car of English itself

and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off

down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna. 

- Billy Collins

Cardinal Looking Around

Cardinal Looking Around / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

THESE HOT, HUMID DAYS broil over, one into the other, thick and rich with southern summertime and scorching similarity. 

I look at my calendar a few times daily to help me sort it out. I ask Alexa, too, and hang my internal calendar on a couple events that are solidly scheduled every week - Wednesday is trash day and Thursday, I talk to my counselor. Both are things I never want to miss. 

Nearly every day, get up early, make coffee, write in my journal and then walk with Liesl and the dogs, and sometimes with Liesl's friend Lexie. Nearly every day, I paint. Nearly every day, I make three meals, cooking something good for dinner. Nearly every moment of every single day, I miss Peter, and think how much different this covid summer would be if he were here. 

***

Virtual Online Show and Sale

THE CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA FESTIVAL of the Arts is one of the big, important, national shows that usually accepts me every year. I was accepted again this year, but the on-the-ground show was canceled. 

So they are making a virtual show, and it sounds like lots of fun! More than 150 artists, from 32 states, are participating. Many - like me! - will be offering discounts on art and shipping (free shipping for me, plus discounts on many paintings during the festival, July 9-12). 

I'm one of the artists doing live demos - I'll be conducting my regular painting workshop in my live festival time, Saturday, July 11, at 1 p.m. Eastern. Other artists are doing demos and workshops throughout the festival. 

There's much more! Please check the website - https://arts-festival.com/  - or any of the festival's social media feeds - Facebook/CentralPAFestivaloftheArts; Instagram: @cpartsfestival; Twitter: @CPArtsFestival - for more information. 

***

For Today

"It is a thousand times better to have common sense without education 

than to have education without common sense." 

- Robert Green Ingersoll

Crow Looking Back

Crow Looking Back / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 - free shipping

sold!

TO ALL WHO MIGHT BE WONDERING, "Three Geese" has found its home. And, interestingly, it was bought by the person whom I thought of when I thought of that painting. So I believe it has gone to its rightful owner! 

***

Bucket List

I HAD ABSOLUTELY no idea that I coveted a black eye. All these years, all these decades, and I just didn't know, until I got one. 

It happened unromantically enough. I'd been watering the front garden, and my shoes were wet. I slipped on the threshold and fell full-length onto the living room floor. 

After several tries, I was able to get a call through to Liesl and Lexie, and they came back (we had just finished walking), cleaned the blood off of me and the floor and bandaged me up, pretty much good as new. 

I talked to my dad, who asked if I had lost consciousness (no), or if I had a headache (no), and he said I should be fine. No concussion. He used to be a brain surgeon, so he knows. He's the one who told me I'd have a black eye. 

Sure enough, I do! I'm quite excited and proud. And I've made up a good story - Vincent Van Gogh and I were arguing about my ear. He was insisting that I cut it off, and I said No Way - I like my earrings too much to lose one ear! OK, he said, then it's a black eye for you. 

***

For Today

The Crow's Calling

A bird moved as if

a black hole shaped

like a crow was strutting

a path across bright playground

grass before rising, leisurely,

at an angle, to observe

from the perch

of a stark eucalyptus

to caw forth a sermon,

determined, inspired as a priest

on a foreign mission

irnoring the fact of our

language difference. 

- Peg Quinn