In a mere week’s time I fly west once more for my annual trip to Taos NM. Much of the rhythm of things here at home just now is akin to years past. I work diligently at Day Job to get my little to do list settled. No one wants to be the bottleneck there. I stack the specially made instrument cases, one by one, and polish ever so many little silver and brass buttons and other necessary miniscule sundries for these lovely instruments we craft day to day. It’s great fun, actually. I am deeply grateful for a “job” which affords me the temporal freedom to make my own hours and simply do the work on my list, which in turn affords me artistic freedom to run my workshops and when possible, make some art as well.
As is often the case when I am up to my gills in to-do lists and packing lists and my mind is aflutter with all the earthly materialistic concerns in preparation for a lengthy journey, I feel called to crawl into a box of paints and swim amidst the colors there, creating my own less complicated world on canvas.
This is my brain on overwhelm.
A dear friend who knows me well sends along a timely NYT article about some less well-known art work on display just now by Georgia O’Keeffe. I lose myself in the world of her paintings. Perhaps I can find the time to bust out some oil paints to settle my soul before leaving.
Are we having the time of our life?
Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we coming across clear?
Are we coming across fine?
Are we part of the plan here?Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we coming across clear?
Are we coming across fine?
Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we part of the plan here?We have the driver and time on our hands
One little room and the biggest of plans
The days were shaping up, frosty and bright
Perfect weather to fly, perfect weather to flyPounding the streets where my father’s feet still
Ring from the walls, we’d sing in the doorways or bicker and row
Just figuring how we were wired inside
Perfect weather to flySo in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull out the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try? Perfect weather to flyWe have the driver and time on our hands
One little room and the biggest of plans
The days were shaping up, frosty and bright
Perfect weather to fly, perfect weather to flyPounding the streets where my father’s feet still
Ring from the walls, we’d sing in the doorways, or bicker and row
Just figuring how we were wired inside
Perfect weather to flySo in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull out the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try? Perfect weather to fly~Elbow


Perhaps next time up I will brave the loop-the-loop style acrobatics, but for me, for now, merely being aloft is enough adventure this first time flying in the open air.
Justin on the other hand is built of more courageous stock and eventually opts for all the tricks. Bravo Justin!
“Draw, draw.Draw. “~Raven
“sketch, sketch, sketch.”~Magpie
