Godzone IX

I mixed Hooker’s Green with Mars Black and Neutral Gray to get the mirror color today, and then went a little nuts. But in a good way. See, I had been going back and forth, if you remember, between representational and abstract, and I don’t think I had been altogether decided on one or the other to my satisfaction. Today, Impressionism hit! Yes. But then I added a bit too much Red Oxide on the right of the canvas, tried to balance on the left with some Hooker’s Green, then some Titanium White, then some lime I had mixed up … well, then I decided it needed to dry. For tomorrow then. But I’m liking where it is headed now.

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I wrote 2201 words this morning! Then my back and my neck, cricked to the right today inexplicably despite several light yoga stretches, caused me to have to rest. Well, resting is just part of my normal day. Face it. I am up for some high quality creative time, then I am down for some high quality meditative rest time. It’s my life.

Could be worse. Blessed.

Confirmed for Thursday’s pickups for the sold artwork and will make receipts for the buyers before then. A great feeling. A great show. Very very grateful.

Looking forward to a creative December, without many doctor appointments? Please? Am challenging fellow writers to write past National Novel Writing Month and into the New Year with me, to keep up with daily writing word counts and keep encouraging each other. I need it. They need it. I would need to write something like 8900 words per day for the rest of this month to hit 50,000 and that’s not going to happen and that’s not nearly my novel word count, I already know. Rebekah’s Closet is 247 pages. I’m a wordy gal. What can I say?

Took Chipper on the first long walk in a very long time this morning and it was awesome. I’ve been meaning to tell you, if you remember my photos and paintings, sketches and what have you, descriptions, of the bog on walkies, well, it is being transformed as we speak into the park. It is now, as we speak, full of enormous, ginormous, industrial pipes and frontloaders and Caterpillars and dump trucks of the like, well, it’s fascinating, the personal play pit that once was the drainage area, where I took ICE pictures, if you’ve seen that photo section on my site, where the drainage water froze once, lo, lo these many years now. No, it’s not low now, it’s going to be an ampitheater of some sort, below the townhouses, whose balconies look down on the industrial spectacle that is, the play pit.

It boggles the mind. The smell of upturned Earth is wondrous. Chipper and I both stopped this morning. Mothers bring their toddlers to look at real Tonka toys in action, with some caution, from the sidewalk.

And I think I did tell you that they have yet, somehow in the midst of this, preserved the tiniest bit of wetland, where I saw the heron that day, pause in midair, and yet, choose to land … there?

We’ve seen the architects folding and pointing and unfolding their rolls of paper and talk of permits as we walk by, Chipper and me, for so many years now, and we have rolled our eyes, like, sure, a park here, it’ll happen. Well, it’s happening. I just hope real people will respect the herons and the wildlife.

I’ve seen a man throw a soda at a skate in Jamaica and me in shock and disbelief! and I’ve seen kids do about the same at Radnor Lake in Nashville. Much bigger venues, the tropical island, the huge lake. I just hope this little wetland fares well, somehow. No soda bottle throwing at herons! There oughta be a law! or at least a reasonable sign. Sigh.

Chipper waits on one side of the bed for me now. It’s time.

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