Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Waiting




We spot the first sail out in the bay, and life as we know it takes off like a caged bird set free. We try to work, but what's the point if our boat is on the hard. We don't bother to brush our teeth until we are forced to leave what feels like a cave now, for food.  And who cares what the news says today - the weather is our master now. Something we cannot control we are now a slave to as we watch the skies like a hawk for the sun and a decent breeze. It's a miserable existence - it's spring in the life of a sailor.

Out of necessity we learn to breathe deeply to relax so that we can put things back in to perspective. We realize the need to work and earn money so that we can toss all of it, every cent, to that bottomless whirlpool in the ocean we call our boat. We acknowledge that we have to brush and floss our teeth or it will cost us a new jib. And we have to pay attention to the news and continue to participate or there will be no planet to sail on.

We learn not to be so selfish and get used to patiently waiting by counting our blessings. We remind ourselves that life will, and must, continue to go on regardless of whether or not we are on our boat, in the water, skipping along a flat sea to the sound of our sails filled with a beautiful little summer breeze heading downwind and east.

Waiting • 8" X 8" acrylic framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Waiting For A Mistake


It was the spring of 2017 and the yard was hosting a feast of epic proportions. On the table were grubs, just grubs - but millions of them, all for the taking. The uninvited guests came from far and wide - the word was out, the party was on. Skunks silently dug divots while moles tunneled underground during the night as the homefolk slept.

And when the sun threw wisps of light across the morn, and the guests had slid back and down in to an inebriated slumber, then and only then, did the crow come. It swept in, quietly circling, searching for what might have been left behind, then floated lightly to the ground to patrol the small shallow holes and squiggly fat lines that splattered and raced across the landscape like an accidental masterpiece left by drunken artisans. It waited for a mistake.

That's what they do, the crows. They wait for a mistake.

Waiting For a Mistake • 8" X 8" acrylic framed to 12" X 12" • $250