Frost Day, the rest of the photos

Frost Day 19 October 2018//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js

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Happy Frost Day!

Well it was pretty darn cool yesterday and last night frost finally arrived. Oops, didn’t do something I was supposed to do.


Still hot, no paint today

I did stop at the local lake/reservoir and did a very fast sketch because folks 11:15 am on a day that it is 90F and there’s no real shade… let’s just say it was hot. Later at work I did an iPad cloud study.

Here’s the whole view, with clouds

clouds 5 july 2018//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js

Hot enough for you?

It’s been a week of heat. And by heat I mean 90F plus with 100F plus heat index (really? it FEELS hotter?) Yesterday the car thermometer kept telling me it was 99F-100F. When I finally got home last night it was a chill 80F plus.

Days like that means my goal is to find places with AC and to deal with it. Lots of people go to the mall which is my workplace. It’s not conducive to painting because the paint dries quickly on the paper and palette, making it harder to blend colors and soften edges. But we do it anyway because it is

Ever since the first shaggy hunter outlined a running deer with a stick dipped in wood ash or puddle clay or blood, paint has served a vastly more significant and creative purposeas a vehicle for the human imagination, a creator of illusions, the modest but endlessly pliable means of fixing a glimpse of loveliness for posterity. The true originators in this field have always been the great artists. But close behind these masters of illusion came the masters of the applied arts designers, architects, decorators, legions of craftsmen whose vocation was to reflect contemporary standards of beauty and harmony. — Jocasta Innes

Day Twenty-six, NaPoWriMo

Those sitting with hills
brushing their hair with wind
having a cloud ceiling.
These are the folk, trusted
and thought to be brave
facing the dangers they find
and ignoring the phantoms.
The birds bring them news
and the seasons, in turn,
bring them joy and wisdom
bearing new changes and gifts
Those sitting with hills
have gentle hands, knowing
life to be tender, a baby
or kitten or fish to hold
and then when done
to set it free, smiling.

Day Twenty-five, NaPoWriMo

In the rain the ground
parts to let the still greenness
flow upward and out.
In the rain the greens
resolve to face April’s chill
leaving the warm mould.
In the rain the world
takes a big breath of soft spring
and relaxing, exhales.

Day Seventeen, NaPoWriMo

The radio spits out
news that can’t be held
listening as witness,
eyes opening and turning
to the weirdness of snow
on the seventeenth
of April, snow, hail, sleet
doesn’t this seem
more likely than
all that world stuff?
Mid-April, not mid-March
The days are more
February than May
more grey than sun
and all that again today
This weather three sixty
made fields fine brocade,
green and gold and white,
shining drops on each twig
each an upside down world
each the moment’s truth
and then gone.