We’re on the cusp of Spring, you can smell it in the damp air like pheromones. Grass shoots tint the meadows, still covered with leaves. On some property near home, Chas ditched his wellies to run sockfooted down a long dirt trail, his cheeks bounced up and down as he ran and sang. He shoved his head into a hole in a tree, shouted, and plunged his foot into a burrow near the creek. Life was hidden everywhere. But closer to the lake we passed under a gossiping flock of Red-Winged Blackbirds, a throaty playful labyrinth of song in the pecan treetops. Once we were directly below them, and they noticed us listening, all talk ceased and the troupe flew away like a fluttering, carefree black veil. Chas followed them with his eyes. It was quiet like that for a few seconds, before Ford started belting out White Stripes lyrics (I still have ‘Blue Orchid’ pumping in my head). On the drive home, close to dusk, a very large Coyote jumped the fence into the chaparral. I shouted and pointed it out to the kids, almost running off the road, but when I looked back at them, both heads were buried into the sides of their carseats, asleep.
Plein air paintings, studio art and lessons
I love this image…on the cusp of spring. beautiful. It felt that way here too 10 days ago but we have had a cold snap. Daffodils trying to bloom when it is only 35 degrees out. They are warriors…
I am also finally stopping by to say thank you for the gorgeous postcard. I have it up in my little room in my house (where I edit and write and sometimes create little pieces of art), and I look at the door on the front of the postcard and think about ways to open it….thank you.
beautiful. makes me even more anxious for spring. . . i think we are still a ways away from the cusp here.
You make where you life sound so gorgeous. The way you observe detail–sound, texture, color, brings things alive for me. I wanted to be there in the car with you seeing the coyote, and then maybe heading out for a nice glass of wine while the men & the boys hung out together.
thank you Liz! I love knowing exactly where the postcards went, especially that you appreciate it enough to keep it in your creatve space. Yours is in my kitchen, on the windowsill. I’m so lucky to have recieved a heron; that’s a nickname of mine!
Christina: …now wouldn’t THAT be perfect! I’ve been missing out on these kinds of evenings; my friends here usually like to all go out together and have a drink. or a few. Imagine what happens when fifteen buzzed women try to split a tab? It adds about a half hour of strained thought and sobering confusion. Where’s the levity?