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Christina’s World is one of Andrew Wyeth’s most famous paintings.
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So surely I can’t be the only one who sees the similarities here….
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Let’s examine the Museum of Modern Art’s description. I’ve circled the pertinent parts for comparison.
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Am I right, or am I right?
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And while Lord Dudley doesn’t have polio like poor Christina, he does share her propensity for crawling…. so I’m calling it.
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Our town often posts announcements of items people are giving away for free. Some of them are lovely and thoughtful…
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And some of them make me scratch my head.
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This saw needs a motor, belt and blade.
Good grief, what else is there….?
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Most of the time my Facebook ads get it wrong.
I don’t need ball wash soap or help with a bigger orgasm. I also don’t need ball hammock underwear, yet the hits just keep on coming. The latest is Halloween themed… and so very, very wrong.
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Do I need to see Frankenstein gettin’ his freak on? I most certainly do not.
But every once in a while, the algorithm hits a bit closer to the mark.
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And horrible grammatical translation aside, at least this one includes alcohol….with undertones of barn bar which we all know is near and dear to my heart.
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I went outside Saturday morning and found my husband had started putting sealant on the barn porch.
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I used to do this every 2-3 years but since blowing out my knee last fall, the job fell to him this time.
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He enlisted a friend to help and they were hard at it all morning.
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I made them a nice lasagna lunch, cleaned up the kitchen and went out later in the afternoon to check the progress.
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Things were rolling along fine until the end.
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When my husbands superior planning skills were fully evident.
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🤣
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We enjoy our nightly skunk visitors, occasional air pollution aside. They’re comical to watch but their presence often involves residual piles of poo. That normally isn’t an issue, but this morning’s deposit has definitely crossed the line.
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What up skunk!
Three acres of grass, fields and woods and you have to void your bowels on our kitchen landing?
Not cool skunk, most assuredly not cool.
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Well that’s a unique wine review.
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And apparently not well received.
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Have you ever wondered what your cat is really thinking? Judging from this picture of Lord Dudley Mountcatten, I’ve done something unforgivable.
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Damn it, now I can’t either.
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Yes, it finally happened.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. walked. In the harness. On the leash. Of his own accord.
Be still my heart.
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After weeks of useless excursions when all he did was glance at me in disdain…. the other day he suited up and hit the door running.
Well, strolling is more accurate but I’ll take it. No fuss, no fight. He walked across the lawn, around the barn and woodshed, climbed the front stone wall, got tangled up in the bird bath and even lead me over to the apple trees.
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Which he found quite fascinating.
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I was happy to let him sit in the crook of the tree sniffing and scratching the bark, but then before I could react….
Bam!
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The little devil was scrambling up the tree with me still holding the leash. He wouldn’t come down, so I had to go up, and it wasn’t pretty.
Ever try to wrangle a leashed and harnessed cat out of a tree? It’s not a smooth process and I don’t recommend it.
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Upon retrieval, his Lordship was exhausted and happily plopped in the shade. I, on the other hand, examined my scratched arms, broken nail and twig infested hair.
And if that wasn’t bad enough? This morning I woke up with a wicked brown tail moth rash on my neck.
Needless to say we will be giving the apple trees a wide berth from now on.
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As we were leaving our small town’s festival I saw a sign pointing to a local artist’s collection of folk art carvings.
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The man and his art are well known in my town with one piece of this collection featured and displayed every year in our town hall.
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Three of the pieces were bought by private parties before the town decided to acquire the collection and were graciously lent to us for this event. It was the first time the collection has ever been exhibited together. Except…
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There’s one missing.
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The widow of the artist doesn’t know who her late husband sold The Raven to, but there’s been an extensive search … with no luck.
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You really have to see these in person to appreciate the craftsmanship.
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And my poor pictures don’t do the beauty of the wood carving justice.
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All the creatures depicted are native to our area. They are depicted with the joy of, and reverence for, nature.
So if you ever see that Raven? Please let me know.
😉
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The highlight of my little town’s annual celebration festival has always been this:
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Yes ladies and gentlemen…. we race zucchini here in vacation land.
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And it’s a definite crowd pleaser.
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That’s the pit crew getting the semi finalists ready.
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Some of the entries were quite creative.
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It’s hard to tell but the one of the far left is a whale… complete with tail and water coming out of his blow hole.
And in case you’re wondering how this works….
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I love my town.
🤣
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Our little town has an annual community celebration and more often than not we don’t go. But after a year of hermit like Covid living, travel plan cancellations and avoiding large indoor crowds… an outdoor festival seemed perfect.
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There was live music.
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And the prerequisite ugly craft displays. Bird baths made from repurposed antique glass? I’m picturing myself scrubbing the poo out of all those grooves. Hard pass.
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The husband lost me for a half hour at the library book sale. A dollar a book and we had to make two trips to the car.
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There was a tiny petting zoo.
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With bad hair day inhabitants.
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We bought ducks for the derby.
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But our sorry ass quacks were almost dead last.
To be continued….
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My town’s Facebook page was critter-centric with this week starting with this awesome visitor.
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We had one on our roof a while back but I wasn’t quick enough to get a photo. They’re such glorious fellows.
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I hear that on the zucchini. Everyone is trying to foist them on us lately.
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Outhouse shed combo. When you’re working on something and just don’t want to waste the energy it takes to walk back to the house.
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Our neighbors have lost a few birds to foxes. But I think we need to examine how #20 survived. Could have been an inside job.
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Alright, so it’s not a dog waiting at the door with your slippers. You still have to admit it’s sweet…
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River's world..... 