Now that I've taken a nice walk with Jack and gotten a different perspective from the back and forth march, house to shop and back again, I'm in a better mood.
The honey locust that I stopped to photograph and share last time I walked this way has gone from the flower frenzy of buzzing bees to a quiet reddish maroon seed with only the sound of crickets nearby.
Bailey's Peak, still mostly green, is sporting a few trees with yellows and browns. Pale blue skies lie to the southeast of the Peak and a gray sky is overhead. Goldenrod lines up along the edge of the field. Thin broom sage is darting vertical from the brown remains of the summers hay. I guess with these colors in mind I start to think about color of clay and glaze and what to do with all of that bisque ware. With all of the ink drawings piled up on my table, I wonder what kind of patterns will emerge on the pots.
Well, now that I've stopped here at the edge of the field to click these thoughts into my device with the goldenrod, etc (and have been left behind by Jack) I'd better be getting out of my head and back to wind up my last wet day with the clay and set up my brushes to start painting.
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