Showing posts with label white-throated sparrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label white-throated sparrow. Show all posts

Sunday, May 31, 2020

White-Throated Sparrow


White-Throated Sparrow / oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

Sold!


TURN YOUR HEAD toward me, little bird. What do you see? A human, maybe someone with food? Someone who could help - or hurt - in equal measure, and yet, you trust - but not so closely that I could reach out and catch you. Trust but be cautious. 

Still, with time and familiarity, you come closer. Not to rest on my hand or my shoulders - I don't have the patience to build that sort of relationship with you (though Peter would have). But you flit nearby, lighting on the clothesline where the bird feeders hang, landing on the ground close to my feet, close to where I stand the bag of bird seed. 

Turn your head toward me, little bird, and take my measure. These days will fly more quickly than either of us could imagine. 

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For Today

"All paintings are artwork but precious few become works of art, just as the fact that a pianist who can play all the correct notes doesn't assure an inspired performance."

- Peter Fiore









Thursday, April 9, 2020

White-throated Sparrow

 
White-throated Sparrow / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

sold!

ALL OVER TOWN - and town is all I've seen - spring is flowering. My favorite trees are the pinks, from the palest weeping cherry to the vivid fuschia of the redbuds to the azaleas, screaming with color, just starting to come now.

The dogwoods - vivid, green-tipped white - are beginning to bloom. My daffodils have come and gone, but they are the earliest in town, and on other streets, the dogs and Liesl and I see other daffodils blooming in their cheerful way. And behind everything, the grass is green and thick and lush. 

Before long, the blossoms will have turned to leaves. The summer's heat and sun will thin and brown the grass. The daffodils will bend and wither and make room for the summer's heat-loving plants. And life, I imagine, will be back to normal. 

I sit outside in these warm spring evenings and watch the dogs run around the yard. I inspect the lilacs, which are weeks from blooming, and the hydrangeas, which are even more weeks from blooming, and I linger in the sweet, soft air. Of course, I think of Peter, and it is always with a sense of loss - mine and his, both - but I can see progress. My thoughts are not always colored by sadness. 

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Gratitude

I AM GRATEFUL for Liesl, my Austrian neighbor, a dedicated and long-time walker. She has encouraged me to walk with her, and has the patience and kindness to suggest we bring the dogs, too. 


What are you grateful for today? You may add in the comments below, or drop me an email. 

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For Today

"When I get to heaven, I'm gonna shake God's hand
Thank him for more blessings than one man can stand
Then I'm gonna get a guitar and start a rock-n-roll band
Check into a swell hotel; ain't life grand?"

- John Prine, who died on Tuesday from the corona virus