Wednesday, December 27, 2006
New years by the score
have left me in doubt
as what more to leave out.
I gave up hard spirits,
tobacco and speeding,
soaped out my mouth
and even stopped fibbing.
I once gave up slouching
and dating bad men,
ran from intolerance
to pose on the fence.
I’m not pure lily white
but surely modest and mild.
I’ve come full circle
which is rather odd
so this year I resolve
to resume smokes and gin,
to step up my pace,
and regain ten pounds
while practicing road rage
and lewd finger waves.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Puffy snowflakes swirl
as if giant hands
tipped our globe of glass.
Snug in the car
we sip lattes
move in and out of fog
slip up the narrow road
curve high along the hill.
At the crest
wintry sun breaks through
throws diamonds on the white
shows an ancient tree
toppled on a bed of boughs.
We stop to gather limbs,
breathe steam into the air,
no bird, no skiff of wind,
no soughing of the trees
break the winter silence
until from far below
a creek rustles
beneath its quilt of snow,
the feet of massive trees
on its travel to the sea.
Northwest night sneaks down
while we retrace our route
in a car as warmly fragrant
as the perfect cedar chest.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
A 25 meg download, Stellarium is free open source planetarium software. It shows a realistic sky in 3D - what you see with the naked eye, binoculars or a telescope - when it sets itself to your computer time and date. It can also be used in planetarium projectors.
Watch the sky at any longitude and latitude you wish while the stars, planets and nebula advance in real time. The click of a button produces constellation lines and/or art plus many other options. The initial program provides four landscapes but a dedicated digital illustrator can insert her own backyard as the viewing ground.
This awesome program will tide me over until the sky turns clear and the air warms enough to venture outdoors with Stellarium to identify those objects seen overhead.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tomorrow will be cloudy. Cloudy with rain. Great heavy gray sheets of rain. Rain enough to rehydrate a mummy. There will be flash floods. Jagged gashes will split the sky and fill the air with the single sound of a thousand drums.
You have been whining about lack of rain. You have been forecasting a big year for wildfires.
Tonight, your weather forecaster will consult his doppler and chase his tail around the map in pursuit of flashing colors. He will generously promise sunshine tomorrow. He believes. His machine and he are fun to toy with. He is such a fool, but he should fool with someone else.
Tomorrow will be cloudy with rain and rain.
AND Nanowrimo is complete for another year. There'll be hours of editing, reworking and formatting but another novel can't be a bad thing. Well, maybe.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Walking as if the wind blows leeward
he looks into my eyes ‘til the tic comes
blinks into it, a tremor marks his hand.
Tells of long-haul trucking, again,
once the doc approved.
Florida grew too large he says
overfull of Cubans, Haitians and Yankees
Kansas drew him with a lowcost home
before tornadoes turned him out.
He brings up Viet Nam
when it seems that I won’t ask,
makes it sound an afterthought
but I hear his yearn to tell,
thirteen days was all he stayed
less than a short vacation.
Testosterone still high,
he thought it a macho game,
missed a move,
didn’t see the bullet that sniped his neck.
Hair, the rich thick color of honey,
a messy cover on his head,
he strolls with limp and leftside lean
admiring art on my gallery walls
says his rig is parked across the street
says his world needs a pause.
Mist, altered fractal
Friday, November 17, 2006
veins pushing thin skin
Previously published in Erratica II
Today marks halfway +2 in Nanowrimo and I'm making word progress. This year I won't, unless something shifts, have a novel. My character turned frenetic, leaped into three more plots than she can handle. She may have been influenced by my unease and I may not be able to tie the loose strings into one knot. But there's halfway -2 days to go. Anything can happen.
The windstorm last week put me on the road for a day while I searched for hangouts warm and lighted after the electric and phone disappeared from my place. The neighbor reported fireballs and thoughts of life in a war-torn area took up residence in my head to create a short story, submitted on Wednesday.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Farewell to my writing friend, Joan. She passed away Sunday, leaving a huge empty spot in the world.
Joan, another lady and I were collaborating on a murder mystery. We will try to complete the novel to share with Joan's family and other friends. It won't be easy.
We miss you, Joan!
Thursday, November 09, 2006
across the sun
triggers an Ichabod night
my trousers cuff at curling leaves
churned by corkscrew winds
pines try their taproots
a brave star dots the lonely dark
retreats behind boiling wings
sweeping black the sky.
November Fractal created by Sue in Apophysis
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Wind with no name
climbs out of the settling sun
chases blood red smoke
of burning scrub pine,
boils against a sculpted mesa
beyond fallow upturned fields
rubs against sandstone shadows
darkened by the midnight frame.
Pushing against pallid traces
it obscures obstructions
carries ash wrapped seed forward
plants an unstained day.
Flower of Spider, digital photo
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tonight at midnight, I should be ready to begin Nanowrimo. No plot. No thoughts. I got sidetracked with embedding video clips and learned more than I ever wanted to know.
There's a ton of good stuff out there (on Bushism's Internets), there's a ton of bad and some of it is actually despicable. Risque business, they say.
My first video, posted on my Art Blog was so much fun to do, I wondered about another and this was what I came up with at first light.
I may get better. I may not. My Fun.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
deep in the aspen glade
speckled shadows fall
a thousand golden leaves
trill their melody of change
lesser finches churn the chill air
into threnody of summer
shackled to August heat
and passions for the past
I limp across this dying space
fail to bond with season's gap
One of a Kind, Digital Photo by Sue
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
pale as sandpipers' prints
in a wrinkle of infinity
she flies at that easy hour
catches the potbellied moon
rides past a crescent of sand
with driftwood beads
a blink of stars, a gentle smile
she slides out through the sky
on wings of sparrow sighs
Over the Next Hill, Watercolor by Sue
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
No where to turn
in the canyon narrows
coat the shade
cloak the ashes of sage,
uncured by crushed leaves
from black-green creosote,
ocotillo's red nectar
the bone of chaos
that simmers in the echoes
of cracking camel backs.
The urn grows weighty.
Walk of Rocks, watercolor by Sue Turner
Thursday, October 05, 2006
With no desire to do the dusty pioneer thing, my bent has always leaned toward the future of self-mowing lawns, clothing not needing the rub of a heated iron and one item for which I did live long enough -- iRobot Roomba which does a housekeeper-clean job of vacuuming carpet and vinyl. Dirt Dog is now available to whip my garage and patio into a tidy shine and the robotic lawnmower is coming soon.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not lazy but it seems a waste of brain function to spend billions of cells and dollars blowing up people and structures in a losing war while skipping mind stretching and creative endeavors.
My mother and I used to design self-cleaning homes that would leave us free to pursue higher callings and, two decades after her passing, some of the very appliances we fashioned in conversation now appear on this side of the Pond.
Today, Danish researchers announced the teleportation of information from light to matter. Impressive. Last month, the mantle of invisibility was broached and appears to be a doable exercise for the near future.
Imagine the problematical. Invisible bank robbers. Imagine the positive. Teleporting corrupt politicians and other criminals to a distant island.
I'm taking large quantities of vitamins and finger crossings in order to hang around for the merger of sci-fi and reality.
Monday, October 02, 2006
dry stems of rosemary
sap-green stains a shallow
dropped into the trough
corrupt tallies ride the wave
song of Oz spins out a day
on a skinny lanyard of fate
minnows bait a feeding frenzy
somewhere east of chaos
across a rocky reef
sun lays the sea to rest
pours calm upon the bay.
Chaos was created in Apophysis and framed in Digital Image Suite.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I'm a participant in a local writers' circle which defies academia. Without a strong political structure, words continue to emerge. Without a strong critique structure, technique improves by leaps and bounds.
One member, a psychologist, refers to the body as 'Group' which carries the connotation of a therapeutic wellness bid. And it's true. We know each other in ways others do not. Sharing life experiences, current happenings and having seen four of the members undergo near death dramas, we are aware of the urgency of life and full of the generousness of spirit that empowers writing in a safe zone.
The number of books published since we began meeting is approaching twice the number of members. Several folks are not interested in publishing, sometimes folks are not even interested in writing but the sparks that occur during our fortnightly meeting lend encouragement and ideas around. I cannot recall a meeting which failed to produce a small tear and/or a robust belly laugh.
Newcomers come and go. Some find we are too unstructured to suit them; we have no president, we take no minutes. We have no dues. No obligations. We write as writing moves us. And move us it does.
Do you belong to a writing circle?
Butterfly Reflection created in Fractal Explorer by Sue Turner
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Summer comes to a screeching halt. Indian Summer days may come, but my summer stops the first time my feet beg for socks and shoes.
Cranky stellar jays squabble over the cooling fruit on the pear tree, my mind goes blank and my body begins hibernation preparation but...wait!
There's much to do.
MuseOnlineConference starts October 9 and goes through October 13. How novel is this? Right from home, write from home. Great workshops and interactive chats are scheduled. In order to attend most of the sessions, I x'ed my calendar DONE to hone in on this workshop and begin filling a notebook with thoughts, starts and probably a few stops as well.
November 1 is the start date for NaNoWriMo. More thinking and Internet-ing brought me to the point of looking-forward instead of foot-dragging. Another notebook started!
In the meantime my normally scheduled Post Falls Writers, Spokane Authors, yoga class and Curves will fall into the 'optional' category.
People who complain of not having enough to do amaze me. What I'd give for a few extra hours of their offtime to use for my uptime.
I can't get my arms around it, Fractal from Apophysis by SueTurner.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Now with David Brancaccio
Yesterday, I met with local bloggers and found them to be as diverse as blogs themselves. Awesome.
Can bloggers keep their mojo? Can you trust your hometown blogs? Can you be a blogger? Will you?
Like all things, blogs are good, bad and downright ugly.
The current controversy about whether bloggers are journalists is a moot point, as far as I'm concerned. The theory that one reads only the blogs with which one agrees is probably true to a degree. Feeling out of step is fairly common in this new environment and searching for blogs that resonate with one is not a bad thing, imho. Obviously, one wouldn't agree with everything that was written and good dialogue can often take place. Oftentimes, ideas worth mainstream notice surface.
It occurs to me that while some readers prefer Newsweek, others are committed to Time. Magazines and newspapers are probably as biased as bloggers and with fake news surfacing on most channels it's welcome relief to find blogs and concrete references.
May you find or write the type you seek.
Moved On, Photo by Sue Turner
Friday, September 15, 2006
No Plot, No Problem. Chris Baty's book is in media mail to me.
How strange that I'm uptight about doing Nanowrimo this year and worried about a plot or how to do it.
Last year, I started late, finished well and published with little editing. How was Running with Scissors, my novel? I don't know. I didn't read it after I finished formatting it for Lulu.com for printing, but comments have been very positive.
The challenge is more complex this year since I know what it's all about. 'For a lark' mode last year was a breeze and when the cyberchute purged 5000 words, I didn't cry very long but re- keyed as many as I remembered and forged ahead.
Has the unknown become less frightening than the known?
Will you be there?
Beyond the Madness, Photo by Sue Turner 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
plucks the bird of paradise,
vows the past is true
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Oil of turtle glides like warm silk
glistens on my skin
urges inland sunlight
to bring a bronzelike tint.
A nearby seashell fountain plays,
sets the scent of ocean free,
creates a sudden hunger
to place a footprint in the sand.
Decision made, keys in hand
I shut the door behind me
drive toward the closest shore,
realize I'm stirred by turtle envy.
Friday, September 01, 2006
People who claim to be uncreative are those who often define creative as applicable to visual art such as watercolor, drawing, oil, acrylic, illustration, pottery, design.
I define creativity as that self who finds fresh ways to do old things or masters survival in a difficult environment.
Whoever first set logs in this fashion deserves a blue ribbon. Without scheduled maintenance, this remnant enters its second century and, while amenities are missing, the structure is still quite sound.
Mining vestiges in nearby mountains may hold the key to the why which brought this cabin builder to the where.
I salute the creative people who trekked under incredible hardship to an unmapped distant spot and erected a home with found materials.
Photo by Sue Turner 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Once upon a time, I wore an NRA sharpshooter badge but time brought me to an occasional tin can shoot with a 1970's Daisy BB rifle.
I complained, not loudly, about the antiquity of the Daisy preventing amazing hits - I couldn't hit the wide side of a hill and, as I'm wont to do, I blamed it on the equipment.
A recent birthday arrived and my oldest granddaughter gifted a Crosman Pumpmaster 760 BB/pellet rifle.
Incongruously, this came hot on the heels of replacing my living room window which was gut shot by the neighbor boy's girl guests while his mother labored at her daily work. The window hole was about five inches above my head where I sat outside trying to absorb enough warm and sun to last through the lengthy gray cold winter. Much ado.
Even though I experienced a brief temptation to shoot the neighbor kid, I took the new toy to the woods and found it to be powerfully accurate - I might still be a sharpshooter!
Monday, August 28, 2006
I ache to swallow summer
without paring or pitting
hold it inside warm and rich
slings shards of ice
frigid wind rises in the night
moans through canyons
like the cry of a loon
vibrating mountain-tall pines
wild enough to crack my bones,
when grey eats the sun and moon
clothing knots my easy walk
I want to swallow summer whole.
Frame of Summer, Photo by Sue Turner
Thursday, August 24, 2006
to the mountain crest
wild turkeys grumble up hill
a doe challenges
the Shepherd pup
bound to keep us safe.
Before full light,
turkeys retrack clumsy steps
the doe backs into the forest
one hummer checks the feeder
departs to grapevine tidings
early risers start the coffee,
aroma rouses others
hungry folks fill the kitchen
planning lazy time
during hearty breakfast prep.
A zephyr from the lake
stirs red geraniums
blue lobelia in deckside planters.
Whiny jet skis heat the day,
sailboats stalk the shore
for the last of summer play.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
The instructor was very insistent that we students follow his exact brush move and color combinations. Difficult as it was, I managed to follow his direction as closely as I could. Another surprise was how different others' paintings were even though we were shackled.
My current preference is for abstract, bright and bold. Tight hasn't captured me yet, although I find photography quite exciting! I guess my theory is that if I want tight, I use the camera. If I want loose, I use watercolor and brushes.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Summer to this point has been hot and dry - I like it like that! However, there's a distinct and sudden change. Morning air brings a hint of fall, the sun sneaks farther south and evening air is downright chilly.
I must learn not to say I'm cold. While camping last weekend with my younger daughter, I felt a chill and said erroneously, 'I'm cold.' Within minutes she had a blaze going that threatened to burn down the entire cabin - fortunately, it did nothing but melt the side off the television.
When I pointed it out, she sighed and said, 'I told them not to bring a tv into the woods.' Purist, she is. Someday, someone will notice the side is missing and we'll have to 'fess up. In the meantime, I've gotta say I enjoyed being overly warm that night - felt a lot like a full blown dark summer day.
Bats swoop and hummers slow. The full moon and Perseid meteor shower were better than any tv finds.
Daniel Smith has a new trio of colors. Prussian Blue is a name I remember from the old Crayon box. Yummmy. I'll have three new watercolors in four days.
Watercolor: Top Shelf
Monday, August 14, 2006
Today we'll see the young man whose tour of duty was extended, extended and extended. He was sent all over the world, released twice, then recommandeered and sent off again ~ most recently to Baghdad.
He'll be off duty for 10 days, then returned to stateside duty for several more months before a final 'out' date. Fortunately, he returned with no visible physical damage.
My heart goes out to all those who've lost friends and family and those who've returned with massive damage. War is a sad and useless thing for those who are actually required to participate in it or are attacked by it.
Welcome home, Nate!! And thanks for your brave service in the face of an unpopular and unnecessary war. Now, maybe you can tell us the truth...
Smoke and Mirrors is a fractal created in Apophysis.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Screen doors always annoyed me. The screens are invariably misshapen by casual hands which don't mesh with the handle. The slamming noise always startles me, even when I'm the slammer.
Grown up and free, I designed my own second door.
A sheer curtain hangs in the door jamb by a tension rod to allow the view, light and fresh air through the entry while deterring bugs, birds and stray cats. It moves a bit in the breeze. Too much? A length of chain in the bottom hem keeps it more stable. It's easy to put up and remove (night and morning), washable and silent while at the same time it fascinates children and tickles old friends.
The German Shepherd who visits occasionally backs up and makes a run through the filmy stuff even though the rod falls and clips him smartly on the head about half the time. But, hey, that's better than staying outside alone.
Some pleasures come late in life!
The picture is a digital photo of a hummingbird superimposed on a fractal background. The editing and manipulation were done in MS Digital Image Suite.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Three Year Old returned intending to swim like a fish but got sidetracked by the pool noodles which, last visit, turned into rainbows in his hands. Yesterday he convinced us that the noodles were fishing poles and soon the adults were sheepishly 'catching', 'reeling' and challenging others to pull in a bigger figment.
That's where children live and play. It's no wonder they have trouble with no and can't do that. To them, possible is now and impossible follows about thirty seconds later.
We fished and kicked our legs while sitting in magic chairs (made by hanging one-armed to the pool coping and raising our legs) and in some strange way, I dread the day he gets a grip on his imagination. It's rare that magic returns until it's encouraged by a daring three-year-old.
This photo was taken (with a Minolta Dimage E50) when the dad took the tyke out of the water for a little rest. The next dream is visible in the eyes.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
dry as old shoes
tumbled rocks grow fine
slide inside bedrock cracks
summer parched earth
space in the shadows
fills with silence
drifts to join the wind
free a hundred dreams
smooth the root of night
Fractal created in Apophysis program by Sue Turner
Friday, July 28, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Unfortunately, it was too hot this weekend to watercolor outdoors. I recently bought the new Tree Toad Sampler Set from Daniel Smith and yearned to paint outside. Their watercolors are exquisite and I purchase each sampler set as soon as it's produced. The Tree Toad Set has phthalo yellow-green that stretches and moves like magic. I tried it as soon as it arrived but looked forward to being outside with the trio of new colors.
Fortunately, because of the heat I had the opportunity to help a 3-year old get beyond his fear of water. I learned a lot in the process. Reluctant to do what I suggested, he watched until he was ready, then jumped right in and showed what he learned by watching.
I'm tired, giggled out and have leftover raspberry jigglers. I doubt the boy'll return in time to finish them up as I'll sneak a single jiggler, then another, and then another until there are no more. It's been years since I've eaten them and they are as nifty now as there were then. Some things change, though. The recipe is now on the Jell-o box so I didn't have to search for instructions!
Friday, July 21, 2006
Bummer. The hummer flipbook didn't work.
A small video flipbook using four hummingbird photos in Digital Image Suite doesn't play on this site, although I've e-mailed the gif file and it works wonderfully.
For real time, I located a free software program that uses pre-perforated blank business cards and about 40 frames of video to make an old style flipbook. Simple, fun and quick! I carry one in my bag - it's always good for a giggle or two.
The flipbooks I remember were of printed stillshots flipped rapidly to resemble a movie ~ now we use single frames of movies. As much as things change...
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I designed this fractal for use as a book cover ~ it is available on Lulu.com in my storefront. My first novel, Running with Scissors, carried a fractal on the cover and it's been fascinating to hear comments from readers who wonder where the graphic originated.
It occurred to me that it would be a good idea to create and make available book cover designs which are original and totally different.
The above fractal reminds me of a fantasy scene and in its final print can be softened, lightened or more highly saturated. It's up to the individual to decide which he prefers.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Three of us from the Post Falls Writers Group are writing a murder mystery. We began this project with no firm plot and little time to work together. One writer is not computer literate, one is semi-literate and I'm either good or bad depending on the project. The decision to write random, but pertinent, scenes when we weren't together, followed by brainstorming when we found ourselves within speaking distance was the route we followed. With forty-thousand words written we now face the daunting task of compiling them for a first edit.
Lessons learned during the Nanowrimo challenge last November are helpful but I didn't learn enough to make this an easy labor! A new software program has been difficult to learn but may prove helpful in the organization of these scattered words.
More on this project as it occurs.
In the meantime, I'm still creating fractals, brushing watercolors and writing random pieces as well as ramping up the digital photography productions.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Color is key to life. It hardly matters to me what shape it takes as long it's there.
Fractals are amazingly brilliant in their best form but can be faded to insignificance for those who lean toward less eye-pop.
This particular design was created in Fractal Explorer and the daisy photo was inserted. The distortion brush in Microsoft Digital Imaging was used to draw out the petals and change the shape into something readily accepted by the fractal motion.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Much of the time, I stayed on the deck working my way closer to the wildly ecstatic hummingbirds who found fresh sugar water in a fake flower. By the end of the week, I suspected we were communicating in some fashion as they looked me in the eye while chirping.
The next few days will be spent trying to clean up what the wind dragged from the West and what didn't survive the week without water. I wonder how the house got dusty...it was closed up and alone. Light bulbs are dark and outdoor carpets blown up against the garage wall along with two inches, give or take, of pine nuts/cones and needles.
It occurs to me how little time it takes for nature to reclaim whatever one vacates, even temporarily.
And I am somewhat glad to be home.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
A sheer pink skirt
swings in scented air
a bodice tightly
laced by summer green
a tiny bonnet
tops it all
hides a phantom face
and when light
begins the downhill slide
a dozen floral dolls
dance in Gramma's garden
hollyhocks and me.
'Dancing Pinks' was painted at the beginning of my affair with watercolors. When it was purchased, I thought the world couldn't get better. Smiling.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Yes, but it doesn't have to leave water spots and irritable windshield outlook.
Apply Rain-x to your auto windshield according to the directions and you will be amazed. Water beads up, disappears in the wind and leaves no trace of stain or water deposit.
It works well on house windows, too. When spring comes, winter dirt rinses off so easily anyone can do windows.
Applied to bathroom mirrors, it cuts down on steam and spotting. Motorcycle windscreens are also worthy of Rain-x.
It began to rain - really rain - when I was playing at Possum Trot Golf Course in Myrtle Beach, SC. A four-eyed fellow in my foursome whipped off his glasses, swabbed them with Rain-x and continued to golf clear eyed. While it didn't improve his golf, his vision was spotless. And that's a good thing. If you've played that course, you may have noticed alligators stalking golf balls and if you can't see through your steamy rain-eyed glasses, you can become one missing link.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Wooly Thyme, classified as a stepable, waits in original black plastic planter pots atop my outdoor tables. Soon, I'll move it down where normal folks walk. I'm sure I will. I have in the past.
When I google wooly thyme the articles mention it is fragrance free but I question that. A batch planted several years ago between the stepping stones under a glider produces such exquisite aroma, I find myself stepping on it only to release the scent. Bearing tiny pink flowers, it fills in between rocks and adds falling drama to hanging pots.
It's time to quit leaning into the table top planters for a rewarding sniff and set this charming groundcover in stepable areas.
This photo was taken with a Minolta digital camera on macro setting without flash.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
your cry for help
broke my twitch of sleep
beyond first squint of day
grogged by nighttime split
I attack the morning mess
borne by an edgy wind
miss a step,
foot folds in half
flings me to my knees
blood seeps through denim
I hear the echo of your plea,
fear you and I
in one single digit slip
will seesaw through time
by that fiber optic thread
Steps Through Time, watercolor by Sue, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
She limped down the steps and shuffled over southwestern desert pebbles to the coop where Sambo, sometimes watchdog and full-time friend, waited with wagging tail. Ellie scratched his head while looking for danger but saw only the birds’ restlessness.
‘Soon,’ she crooned. ‘Very soon.’
The following Saturday, she placed the birds in wire cages attached to the rusty pickup bed and left home in the gray dawn. Scattered towns on narrow strings of lonely asphalt made it easy to travel long distances to find an untapped market for her precious birds and in a few hours Ellie arrived at Ciudad de Sueños where outdoor stalls awaited vendors.
Ellie backed the truck in beside the assigned space and a tall teenager, skinny as a zipper and tattooed with a thousand pictures, wordlessly helped her place the crates for display. Ellie plumped her 69-year-old body into the sagging seat of a faded green folding chair and pushed strong freckled fingers through her short gray hair. She looked around, saw there’d be plenty of business and smiled broadly enough to expose the darkness left by a missing canine tooth.
The taciturn kid came back at dusk to help place the empty crates in the pickup bed. Ellie laboriously climbed behind the steering wheel and patted the large wad of bills pocketed in her polyester trousers.
Sambo swirled with happiness when Ellie reappeared. ‘Oh, Sambo! It was a great success! I wish you could have been there. Let me rest a bit ~ our lovely pigeons will soon return home.’
Saturday, June 03, 2006
truth hides in the blur
the shape of absence
too much to bear.
Indian paint brush, quiet
as a crack in the floor,
sweeps the line
forged at the black moon
in rites older than first sin.
I feel the broken place.
My watercolor painting was digitally enhanced by duplication, rotation, palette distortion. It surprises me to see how a real image can be manipulated to an entirely different view with a few keystrokes.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Memorial Day brings a multitude of remembrances, a family gathering, an overload of missings and, somewhere in that mix, granddaughters plant fresh geraniums to brighten the weathered windowbox at the old lake cabin.
Although Mom and Dad have cast off to the great fishing place above, each year the brilliance of spring plants brings awareness of another season as well as a renewal of hope and the pleasure of re-told stories.
The photo was taken with a Minolta and is unprocessed.