Tales from the field #32

Tomorrow is Black Friday and I’m a retailer so I’ll be at a show in Palm Springs.  Today is Thanksgiving so I wanted to find something to be thankful for:

Silverado on a flooded street

The flood got deeper as I continued the setup

This Thanksgiving I am thankful that:

  • the rain I set up my tent in was merely heavy rain and not freezing
  • that it wasn’t windy so I could put the walls up without having to put the weights on first
  • that my booth is on a well drained grassy slope
  • that my truck was ignored by Palm Springs finest, alongside the red curb and half in a flood, with the park anywhere lights on
  • that my truck has a heater because I was soaked from my head to my hips and my feet to my thighs
  • that my truck was able to navigate the floods along Ramon Road
  • that there weren’t any crazy fast drivers who caused a crash on the freeway
  • that I decided to go for this wet setup so I don’t have to get up at 4 am to set up tomorrow
  • that I am writing this listening to the rain on my roof while a turkey cooks

Tales from the field #23

Sometimes life give you just what you need.  On Saturday I was at an art fair at Rainbow Stew in Yucca Valley.  My neighbor, Christine Chase, had brought a project to work on during the day.  She had a number of pieces of upcycled household objects that she assembled into a sculpture.  At the end of the day, we packed up a little early because it had gotten windy and we were starting to get blown away.  I helped Christine with the last few stages of taking down her tent safely.  As she was packing she realized that now that the project was complete, she didn’t have room for the sculpture  and the box that the pieces had been in.  She asked if I needed a box.  I said I didn’t, but had room to take it and recycle it appropriately.

As I disassembled the booth, it got windier.  Because it had been a 1-day show with no chance of rain, I’d put the loose canopy top on.  It’s easier to transport, I put it on the frame at home, but it isn’t waterproof.  As I had intended to leave it on until I returned home, I didn’t bring the bag it goes in.  As I was taking the booth down, it became obvious things would be safer if I removed the ‘sail’ from the top.  I was bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t brought the bag, but then suddenly realized why serendipity had given  me a box….

box with tent top

What do I need a box for? Oh, wait…..

Monthly Newsletter.

Here’s the skyscapes news for March.

Monthly newsletter

Having been doing a lot of catch up (to where I should’ve been if I’d never gone) after returning, I forgot to put up a link to my Monthly Newsletter yesterday.  So now you’re back at the office/gotten over the hangover, you can read it.

Sonnet Challenge #26

Sometimes I think poets go through all the circumstances themselves so they can write about things from a personal perspective.

Inside Prejudice

Outside of prejudice, a place that’s learned
like old wives’ tales, absorbed at parent’s knee
to recognize the ones that should be spurned,
no why, just that’s the way that it should be.
Inside of prejudice, that face is turned,
for reasons I can’t fathom, away from me,
til whispers, giggles stop when I get near
and conversation turns to other things.
I know I am the joke I cannot hear
and my imagination then takes wings
and rises on the heat of latent fear,
the wind that is despair, and all it brings.
Outside of prejudice can see no wrong.
Inside of prejudice I don’t belong.

Veteran Arts Start-up

One of the galleries I work with, Vanguard Gallery in Moreno Valley, is on a mission to create a Veteran Artists Cooperative.  Rick’s ultimate hope is to create a Museum of Veteran Art in Southern California – but the cooperative is a good place to start.  It would be wonderful if you feel you can contribute a few dollars to the project.  Or if you are willing to share this to others who might.

Veteran Voice Project.

Sonnet Challenge #24

My friend and neighbor Bob and I usually get into some kind of philosophical discussion over dinner.  He usually comes to dinner on Mondays but he’s snowbirding at the moment so I get a few months off from trying to cook the healthy stuff he needs to eat.  A few weeks ago he was talking about visiting the graves of friends and relatives who have gone on to the next plane.  He said “I know they’re not there, but it’s like the last place they were, and it helps me to focus on ‘visiting’ with them.”  We both knew a sonnet was inevitable from that conversation.

Standing at your grave
Standing at your grave, you are not here.

Though bone or ash remains, your spirit’s flown;

and yet I came to visit one who’s dear

but taken flight.  This, your departure lounge,

a hollow hall where I can stand and wave

and visit memories you left behind.

It’s mostly when I stand here at your grave

the things you were come easily to mind

for me.  I know you wait ahead

with your side of the story that we are.

I’ll finish mine and see you when I’m dead,

where there’s no time and distances aren’t far

But now, beside your grave, I miss your face

and wish somehow you were here in this place.