Wednesday, January 15, 2020


Goldfinch, Oil on black canvas, 5x7, unframed, $68

AT THE HEIGHT OF SUMMER, goldfinches are brilliant bits of color, flitting around the yard. But they're not always that color. In the winter and the spring, they are a dull yellow, almost olive, a color no one would ever describe as "gold." 

Of course, this winter is an especially dark one for me, but truly, I feel that I am much like the goldfinch. Dull in winter. Sapped of color, of energy, of drive. I don't flit, I plod. 

In a week or so, I head to Arizona for a month, to see my dad and Paula, and to do a show - in a different way than usual. During the Tubac show, Feb. 5-9, I will be set up on the patio at Sweet Poppy, 19 Tubac Road, near Shelby's. 

I am hoping that by the time I drive through Texas and New Mexico and Arizona, and spend a week or so in the sun, that I will start to get my golden goldfinch color back. 

For Today

"Fortunately, however, birds don't understand pep talks. Not even St. Francis'. Just imagine, he went on, preaching sermons to perfectly good thrushes and goldfinches and chiff-chaffs! What presumption1 Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut and let the birds preach to him? "

- Aldous Huxley

Note from me, Carrie - I am a big fan of St. Francis, and I believe that he did let the birds preach to him. 

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