Oh! Now time starts to fly. If only one could stop the clock but this week too, shall end and only too soon our lives. What tragedy that “the soul is born old and grows young while the body is born young and must grow old.”
Today, Monday, began with thunderstorms and continued on with fog, mist, and rain interspersed with misleading breaks of weak sunshine.
I hiked out to White head and over to Black head. On the way back along Cathedral trail I set my glasses down on the moss to see better while I tried to sketch. In the mist and rain they had been worse than useless so I forgot about them and left them behind when I started up again. When I finally realized they were missing and turned back to find them I took a wrong turning ending up on the swamp trail. Well; exhausted now, I finally got my bearings, got back to Cathedral trail, found the glasses, returned and made it up to the museum ( and the Goldsmith exhibit!-awesome) before they closed.-Whew!
So dear Muse, the one who set this Catherine wheel flying through the air so long ago, I hope you are enjoying the shower of sparks as it flies through the sky. Lost in this void it really could use a guiding hand from time to time. Ms. Impulsive really does need Mr.Stability!
And now; Here are two ridiculous sketches and the doggerel that goes with them:
Eyeglasses steam, fog roles in
Surf-boom guides the way
Painting wet in wet
Seagulls cry through fog and mist
Plein-air sketch blooms stars
Gulls glide past dark cliffs
White surf breaks the mist below
Rocky headlands hide
On rain bright trail hears only
Voice of mosquito
Silent rivers flowing
Binding tree to tree infinite
Stillness in green light
Verdant moss and spruce
Hold silent along the path
Sheltered from the sea
persistent angel in the dust (i have tried to upload the images now 10 times and will try again when i wake, as i often do at 3AM. This internet connection is very weak.)