Several nights ago I had a dream of drawing between other dreams.  It was so intense.  When I woke up, I moved my paints out of the way and started drawing.  This is not finished.  It is still a work in progress.  It could be finished in another day or three.  It is on an 8-1/2 x 11 paper.




I meant to do my work today, but a bird sang

In an apple tree,

And a butterfly flitted across the field,

And all the leaves were calling me,

And the wind went sighing over the land,

Tossing the grasses to and fro,

And a rainbow held out its shiny hand —

So what could I do but laugh and go?

… written by Gary, husband of Faye, quote from Buddha In the Waiting Room


Ayla, Whinney and Racer … they are here daily.  The last few days, they arrive at the back slider while I’m dancing.  My back is to the door but I see them in the reflection of the living room window.  One day, Whinney tapped her nose several times on the glass so I turned around. She stared at me, then lost interest and began eating the wild violets just outside the door.  That baby is very bold and curious.  Yesterday while dancing, in the reflection I could see her staring intently.  Husband said her face was incredibly cute while watching.




The Cricket

Jean Pierre Claris de Florian 1793

A poor little cricket,
Concealed in grass flower-strewn,
Watched in a thicket
A butterfly hover at noon.
The winged insect shone with the brightest of hues,
Purple, gold and blue its wings elaborate.
Young, handsome, little master, it hurries to choose
All the finest blooms to take and pollinate
“Ah!” said the cricket. “How his fate and my fate
Are different! Mother Nature did her best,
Did everything for him, but for me it’s too late.
I have no great talent, beauty even less.
No-one takes notice of me. They resist.
I might as well just not exist.”
As he was talking, down in the meadow
A troupe of children out of nowhere come
And right away they break into a run.
After the butterfly all want to follow.
Hat, hankies, bonnets serve to hold it fast.
The insect’s attempts to escape do not last.
It soon their thirst for conquest slakes.
One grabs it by the wing, another by the thorax,
A third child comes up and by the head it takes.
It did not need an ax;
The tearing of it sates.
“Oh! Oh!” said the cricket. “By anger I’m not driven.
Making much of oneself’s no easy requirement.
How much I’ll enjoy my total retirement.”
In order to live happily, live hidden.