Nobody sees a flower—really—it is so small it takes time—and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time. Georgia O’Keeffe

Addendum: Linda Sue's comment brought up another quote from Georgia O'Keeffe: I hate flowers. I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.  (My experience with daisies in a vase as models is that they DO move--toward the light source.)  I'm sure a whole line of philosophy could be written from all this.  I'm just thinking Ms. O'Keeffee had her moods like everyone else.  But when you're in the public eye--it all goes on record. 

JUST WHAT NOT WHY

There was an inch of new snow this morning so I put on my Doc Martins with the knobby tread to lower the possibilities of a tumble on the rear. I walked the mile down Main Street to work.

The little John Deere snowplow that clears the sidewalks hadn’t made it all the way to my part of town so I was following tracks put down by people who had preceded me. There were little tracks of kids on their way to school and bigger tracks probably left by university students and those just out for a morning walk.

Then there were these.

What? Who? Big bare feet.

The tracks continued for blocks usually obscured by other footprints.

The wide sidewalks in the middle of town were already plowed, but on the corner as I waited to make my final street crossing--there they were again.

The boss said he’d not seen anyone running barefoot down the street. My coworkers leaned toward a Sasquatch a.k.a. Big Foot hauling himself out of town before sunrise. Not much chance of a vagrant since anyone sleeping in a gutter around here would be covered by the snowplow and then trucked out of town.

The tracks might have been left by a runner wearing the new style barefoot running shoes. Or not. My guess is a university student who lost a bet. I just really wonder how much of the runner was bare.

ART CARDS

A set of Art Cards or ACEO's that I finished.  I plan to send them to Linda Sue for a breast cancer awareness show next fall.  I really got a kick out of putting them together.  The lady elk on the side were a study for my watercolor, "Crossing the Meadow."  You can see part of it in my new header.

CURING MONDAY BLUES

What I wore to work today.

Which is probably why they keep me in the back and never let me talk to customers.

It's so nice to be insane.

No one asks you to explain.

FEAR OF FLYING—THINGS part 5

Two young ladies were guests at our house and were staying in the basement bedroom. We were all preparing to go out when Youngest Son, who was home on spring break, pulled DH and me aside and said he could hear something flapping and tapping in the stove pipe above the wood stove (not in use because of warmer weather).

Whatever was in the pipe sounded big, maybe too big to make its way into the fire box. The sounds were coming from behind the damper so I made sure it was open and we waited until the guests left the next morning before checking the situation again.

There were no sounds coming from the pipe and it appeared quiet and dark in the stove when DH peeked in. Then he slammed the door shut. I took a turn to look in and saw a full grown female woodpecker staring back at me. I sent DH for a trash bag. He was more than willing to leave the room. He hated things with feathers. While he was gone I looked around and noticed the heavy wire basket we used to haul in firewood. I turned it upside down and held it over the stove and opened the door. Seeing a chance for freedom the woodpecker flew out and became trapped when her head got stuck between the wires of the basket. She continued to struggle, and I was worried she would be able to work her way free. So I took a deep breath, reached into the basket and carefully closed my hand around the bird’s body and eased her out. I was afraid she would try to bite me, but I guess the only motion a woodpecker can make with its head is short jabs and these were not aimed at my hand. Just then DH came back with the trash bag. I think it took a lot of courage for him to stand his ground. He did not come in for a closer look as, again, I carried another bird to freedom in the wild.

What is really strange about the woodpecker story was the total replay a few days later. This time it was a male who showed up in the stove, maybe the mate to the one who visited earlier. Again I caught him in the basket and gathered him in my hand. He had bright red markings under his beak and a black bib. The underside of his tail was a salmon red. We were able to identify him later as a red shafted flicker. I asked DH to take a picture of the bird.  He got out his little digital camera, but he had a real hard time making himself get close enough for a good shot and both pictures were blurred.

I had him get my camera with a bigger lens so he could stand farther back and be a little steadier as he snapped a few pictures before I let the bird go.

I can’t help but wonder if the female woodpecker told her mate to climb down that hollow tree and just see what happened since he wouldn't believe her hysterical story of why she was late coming home.