still crazy

my days shift along with the sunrise to the dusk to the dark....daytime finds incredible reserves of energy spent building, creating, sculpting. it's more like being a spectator as the sculpture sculpts itself, using me for my hands and eyes. 2,3, almost 4 works complete. good stuff. stuff i'm damn proud of! as evening draws near, my energy wanes and i'm most likely found with a book resting on my stomach, my eyes closed, snoozing. on and off, a few hours sleep, a few hours creating. and through it all - the itching. i'm still upset with nature for this poison ivy scorge, but realizing that the color spectacular is soon to be replaced by frosty white, white and more white, i decided to grudgingly continue my daily walks with little girl dog. the colors continue to intensify, as the squirrels pick up their frenzied pace a beat or two....winter is approaching. the squirrels know it, the lone Cardinal in my front tree knows it. the black and orange wooly caterpillar crossing my shoe today knows it. winter is my least favorite season, even though my birthday is tucked neatly in between Christmas and New Years. the struggle with layers of clothes and boots and gloves and ice scrapers....it just tires you out thinking about going for a walk. then to brave the spitting ice, hitting your cheeks and glazing your forhead, tears from shrill winds freeze at the corners of your eyes. your nose, red from blowing and wiping, can hardly stand the intake of such thoughtlessly cooled air. yes, winter is the least ranked season on my list. yesterday, i went to an honest-to-God junk yard, a pick-n-pull bonanza of rusted parts and screws and doodads that perhaps only i could see the value in. as he-man types wandered around with transmissions on their minds and wrenches in their back pockets, i strolled about with a phillips head and a slotted screwdriver. i needed neither, for the real treasures were found on the ground, like seashells left behind after a wave hitting the shoreline. when i placed my bounty of tiny rusted parts on the counter on the way out, the cashier didn't even register that these were the items i wanted....no engines, no tires, not even a radiator. just a few bolts and screws and unknown debris....treasures to me. he had no idea how much to charge me, and the man with the truck exhaust in line behind me would have gladly paid my tab so he could set his purchase down. so, my new rusted treasures have found their way into a new sculpture. my husband doesn't even bother shaking his head anymore. he just doesn't get it, and finally realizes that it really really is okay for him to not "get it." i don't get golf, and don't feel any less of a person for that. i mean, please - smack a little dimpled white ball down the lawn, chase it, and do it again and again. now THAT'S hard to understand! so it's near dinnertime, and i'll be gone for a few days. check back on the weekend and hopefully i'll have some new deep thoughts and great pictures. L.