Dog daysPosted: August 23, 2012 Filed under: Galleries, Private Collections | Tags: animals, art, birds, contemporary art, dog days, dogs, FB, FF, fry an egg, Gaylen Hansen, google, heat, life, magpie, prose, twitter, weather, writing 5 Comments
Magpie: Cawk it’s hot! Even my feathers are sweating. I’m just going to keel over and die from this heat.
Dog: Yawn. It’s the dog days of summer.
Magpie: That’s quite odd. The dog days? I think not.
Dog: Scratch. Scratch. Yep.
Magpie: Hmm. . . (stands on one leg) Now that you mention it, I recall they are more commonly called the “Magpie days of summer.” Yes. Yes. I know I’ve heard that somewhere before. . .oh, my friend cawed to me about it last week. (Whew! I could fry an egg on my beak it’s so hot!) Of course, it’s the Magpie days.
Dog: Actually, I’m right on this. Definitely the dog days.
Magpie: Oh doggone it (stamps claw)– is everything always about you?
Dog: Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with it – it’s an ancient Greek thing. Blamed the “dog star” Sirius. Got too close to the sun. Didn’t you see my post about Roman dog sacrifice on my FB page?
Magpie: No, FB’ s just annoying. Seriously, you have a star and a whole couple months of summer named after you? (cocks head) For all your lying around and tired panting? Lazybone’s like. Really there’s no reason to name something after a bunch of drooling, lazy good-for-nothing’s. I’m calling them the #Magpie day’s of summer. Tweeting it right now. Magpies bring #good luck. What do dogs bring? Only #fleas.
Dog: And dead birds.
Magpie: Gasp. Cawk! Flutter.
Dog: It’s the dog days Magpie, just google it.
Magpie: Nope, don’t like google watching me. If you ask me, the “Magpie days of summer” sounds better.
Dog: Lacks alliteration. (Stands to leave) It’s too damn hot to squawk about it.
Magpie: Certainly is not. (ruffles feathers, cranes neck high) Really this is too unfair. . .
Sun/showerPosted: August 20, 2012 Filed under: Galleries, Private Collections | Tags: art, bay artists, bloom, contemporary art, flower, heat, life, Lily Martine Baxter, prose, rain, San Francisco artists, shower, summer, sun, weather 1 Comment
Missing flowers today, caught in the gaping maw of August here. The ravage heat wastes any precious bloom this time of year. Water is just a wish to save all but desert plants from crusty brown demise.
I think of leaving to a lushlovely, rainy place when the sun takes permanent throne. When 100 degrees is ho-hum and only 50 or more days of white-hot 100°+ leaves the weather person dry mouthed and sweating for synonyms for hot. Or hotter. Or hottest. But the clouds hinted at rain this weekend, some wayward drops sprinkled. Plash. A soft pliff here and there. Smell of overheated earth. This painting by Lily Martine Baxter captures the moment.
Where between the sun and the rain, blossoms a fresh cluster of color. The heavens cooled briefly and then the color springs and drizzles. Lavender rivulets and saffron trickles. A color front – precipitation blooming. Open-mouthed to catch a drop or perhaps a petal.