weathered

The day following my last post, I'd have been happy if it were merely a "leaf-strewn ground" I was traversing, but a snowstorm blew into our region and I found myself working in blustery wind and wet snow. "Too early for this," I grumbled, peeling off my cold, sodden gloves. Too early for shoveling paths across yards from pile to stack. Skidding cars on slick roads. It's all melted now, but it was a preview of the impending season. Got new snow tires on my truck yesterday, an attempt to ensure a mild winter. People are saying they think it's going to be "a rough one," though I don't know what they base this on. I still maintain an enthusiasm for snow, the real beauty and fun of it as well as the coziness of watching it from inside (preferably by a fire), but it does complicate work and travel. What is with all this weather talk?
On to symbolism-- I was walking from my parked truck back to a farm stand, and came upon a small dead black-and-white bird by the roadside. I picked it up; it was weightless in my hand, its feathers soft. I put it down and went to buy my squashes and stalks of brussels sprouts. I came back laden with bags and placed the bird on a towel and brought it home, to be photographed by my friend, or painted by me, or written about in some blog or other.
On to politics-- I am very glad that Obama was indeed re-elected!
On to art-- I  have a painting (the Casa Grande w/Bottles) in the juried 'Under 40 Show' that just opened at the Woodstock Artists' Association & Museum this weekend. Aside from the 12 or so artists in the show, only a couple of whom were there, everyone in attendance seemed to be well OVER 40 (if not 50).. a lively, unfamiliar crowd. In their concurrent Holiday Show, my small painting sold, so I will bring another to replace it. Both shows run through Dec 31.