When I flew into New York, I wasn't the only thing that blew in.
A blizzard came along, just for fun!
The streets were slushy and slippery...
people skated freeform on the slick pavement and sprang like gazelles
over the slushy puddles that formed on the flooded corners, landing
with a less than graceful plop, to the consternation of other passers-by,
who were not so thrilled with the trickles of ice down their ankles.
But some of us didn't care!
Central Park was full of flying snowballs and cross country skiers and builders of snowmen.
After a brisk walk through Central Park, what do you do?
Why you visit the Met, of course!
When alone, you can suit yourself. So I wandered for hours and hours.
In the end I pondered Monet (again!)
After savoring so many of his canvases I decided the earlier ones are downright boring and lifeless
compared with his more mature work.
It's that looks looks-like-chaos-close-up.
I need more of that in my own work, even in my own life!
Even though I was in New York for medical reasons, I played hooky and savored all the joy I could fit into the allotted time!
Home again, paint pots out, calligraphy pens working, and there are sheep to be immunized at the neighbor's this afternoon.
Winter's end is approaching, spring is hinting at bringing bright joy, and won't that be grand?
