It is a cold frosty morning, the grass crunches under my feet. Blue Jay’s are screaming loudly and insistently. Don’t they always? That Cat is stalking something with deep concentration. Eyes laser-focused on his subject.
It is a cold frosty morning, the grass crunches under my feet. Blue Jay’s are screaming loudly and insistently. Don’t they always? That Cat is stalking something with deep concentration. Eyes laser-focused on his subject.
It happened in the butler’s pantry. A hall-way space, and once upon a time when our house was first built, it was the kitchen. Now a brown cow supervises my every move. On a snowy day, I faced down that cow and got to making.
I went up in the attic, out to the garage and into the far depths of my studio and pulled out boxes of dusty, crusty moth-eaten, beautiful stuff.
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