Hope 41
Oil on Wood
6"X6"
Seeing anything but darkness is getting harder by the hour, but seeing the first Queen Anne's Lace blooming by the front gate this morning did lift my spirits a little.
Some say it is a weed. For others, including me and my friend, Ann, it is a favorite flower.
After admiring the upstarts (which by the way were started from seeds from my daughter's wedding bouquet 9 years ago, the flowers for which I picked along the highway) I started pulling star thistle which is what I call a real weed. Unlike the invisible Covid virus, prickly star thistle is an enemy we can see and feel. Pulling it out of the ground is satisfying, if endless, work, providing a momentary illusion of control while the world falls into chaos around us.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comment