January 11, 2021

January 11, 2021

Oh dear. Where to start? I was planning to write about my process. So, I will, briefly. First showing the finished painting, Full Bloom, and then showing the canvas in process. However, I've yet to figure out how to show multiple images of the same painting. So, the other image here shows the 3rd. step in a process that took perhaps 20 days and approx. 30 steps. Sometimes those steps were simply changes in color, touching up, trying out colors, others, painting over something. But the finished product is Full Bloom. I'm not sure where in the process it decided to become sunflowers, but flowers have kept me sane for the last year, or perhaps more.

And that's all I have on that. Right now, Something else important and unbelievable happened January 6. It will live on a long time. History will not look kindly on these events. And, frankly, I don't quite know how to write about it.  Horrifing. Stunning. Sickening. That the Trump has brought us to this, Insurection, traitorious violence, without so much as a peep from the GOP, is almost more than I can stand. And that 70 million Americans voted for him again, After 4 years of Trump showing his true self, is stunning. How can so many people be in denial, or worse yet, making excuses, justifying their choices. Truth is important. Words matter. Independent branches of government matter. Critical thinking, matters.

This, And the Covid-19 virus killing over 4000 Amerticans a day, enabled and abetted. I never thought it would come to this, in my wildest dreams.

How ever did we let this happen?

The winter trees are all striped of leaves now Morning sun

has been replaced with clouds I think it's going to rain tonight it is

so still even the juncos goldfinchs and little gray hatted

titmice are gone where do they hide from the weather and then

I remember the wisteria and pine in spring at the bottom of

the hill their devotion an innocent rosary of years entwined

wrapped not like pagentry but like the mud and grass at

their feetroots where an old corral stands empty hoofprints

half filled with rain these two anchor each other like common

lovers a sway of elbows curves fit comfortably in curves and

darkness shifts shines borialis brilliant and I think how we all might

rest on each others breasts holding seasons of amber shooting stars

those dazzling clusters of purple and at our feety manna and manure

becoming part of our ripened pleasure how many mysteries

have you seen in your life