working

Craig and I weathered the weather, rain, hail, sun and wind together for a week. He furiously making art and me thinking about making. The studios did nearly grind to a halt for 36 hours of 45 mph winds blowing our brains out. The few birds we saw flying were low and taking cover to the backs of trees. The only thing to defy the constant heavy hand of wind bending everything to the east was the white tailed deer. Drawn to the tender leaves of fallen branches a few wandered into the neighbors yard in the afternoon. Earlier Craig and I speculated about animals hunkering down to wait out the storm but we were proven wrong. I counted a dozen does and bucks from the kitchen window; closer to dusk there were at least 18. Their agenda became unclear as there wasn't much left to forage. Was it refuge, or just a night in Two Dot when the residents had forsaken their lawnmowers and were safely held indoors.

In the morning the wind still made a rolling ocean of the pasture and wrapped the school house in an undercurrent of sound. Craig braved his camera and went out to record and I was seduced by the light raking across the hills outside and the comforter covering my feet. The familiar bright patches showed up on my studio walls and floor and I began to think about work.