Marah in Fireman's Kitchen in Hickory, NC

Roaches, termites and bats fled Hickory, NC, in panic tonight as the band Marah cleansed the city with seismological vibrations from the Fireman’s Kitchen. The performance featured the powerfully over-boosted throb of debonaire Johnny Pisano on bass, sweet nuances from electric Christine Smith on Rolaids Machine, accordion and harmonica, and discouraging words about the city of Hickory from wispy Dave Bielanko on guitar, banjo, stomp, grimace and vocal as the group (minus a couple of their regulars) wends it way through the great music capitals of the world, coming from Raleigh into Hickory en-route to Charlotte.


Bielanko sang some wonderfully memorable songs such as “I Suppose We Will Get Through This”, “I Think I Am Going Deaf”, “Sometimes This Happens to All Bands”, “Get Off My Stage I’m Doing a Gig”, and “Well, We Will Try to Do a Performance Anyway”. The 40 some odd members of the audience responded politely. He also chastised Farrah Fawcett for dying the same day as Michael Jackson with some crude remarks which he later said he should retract.

It was clear that the performance was well received by those present, and the presentation by Pisano was excellent. Bielanko was kaleidoscopic and Christine Smith was versatile. I enjoyed the show and hated to see it end even though they actually played for a little over an hour.

The French Nose

Is there really such a thing? if so - it is allegedly Pinocchio-like. It seems to have a Romanesque beginning, up between the eyes, but then it turns a bit up at the end. Then there is often a little "lip" on the nostrils to give them a slight flare a bit like a petticoat-flounce.

And if there really is a French Nose, it is probably due to smelling all those smells that are so familiar to most Americans and other Europeans, that of ham, sausage, cheese and so on - except that French version of these items all seem to have a slightly "gamey" odor to them - like they "almost" smell good, but you can't really be sure. I think my nose has also began to change a little during this trip. The nostrils are more alert than they were when I left.

And by the way, trying to write and sketch on subways requires skills that I have not developed.

Two Lovers at Footcandle

The Footcandle Film Society of Hickory showed Two Lovers as its June presentation at the Carolina Theater on June 11, 2009. After the showing of these movies, the members of the audience who wish to do so, share ideas about the film and tell how they felt about it, and discuss items such as acting, photography, directing, props, costumes, and more, sometimes a lot more.

This movie left me a little bit cold because I felt that the writer (or director) had to take over too much of the plot and make too many inputs to make the beginning get all the way to the end of the movie. In a good movie, the actors in playing the role of their characters, give the impression of taking over the story and making it all happen. It did have a happy ending, but that is only because the movie ended on a happy moment. What will happen next to those poor characters has got to be bad for everybody involved.

I loved the background photography. There was really good, solid, intuitive composition on most of the scenes in which the actors carried on stationary conversations with each other, and the constant excellent blending of colors by the photographers showed they had planned the scenes carefully and set up beautiful and artistic backgrounds to highlight the flow of action.

Pretend

At the store today I noticed a good-looking, slim baguette of bread. I squeezed it and it felt good. I turned it over and read on the back "French Parisian Bread". Since I had just returned from Paris, I couldn't put the loaf of bread back down again and it wound up in my pushcart.

We ate a lot of French bread in Paris. We ate as much of it as we could. They don't really call it "French Bread" over there, just baguette, but baguettes are all over the place. The best part is that they aren't standardized. No McDonaldization in France! There are bakeries all over the place, every other corner seems to have one, and they all have a slightly different taste. So you can't just have a bite of "French Bread", mark it off on your "France Travel" checklist and go on to the next requirement. No. You have to eat them all. Each one is better than the one before it. The one you are currently eating is always aspiring to fulfill the promises of the one you ate just before it. As delicious as a symphony would be if you could ever actually taste a symphony, full of melodies and rhythms, and counterpoints and when eaten with butter and jam or tapenadas or bits of ham or odoriferous cheeses they resonate with the mellowness of piano and strings and pique with the richness of horn and depth of drums. So I carried home my prize. Just because you have to be separated from the City of Light doesn't mean you have to be separated from its wonderful bread.

When I got home, I ate a small piece of my new bread. A little Dijon mustard was spread on a lightly toasted side of bread after being passed over with cut garlic, then a slice of pepperoni was added and some white vinegar sprinkled on. Then it was all covered with a thin slice of Irish cheese, lightly dusted with oregano flakes and replaced in the oven to all melt together. It was delicious.

Was it as good as the bread I had just eaten in Paris? Yes, yes! Well, it was almost as good. This is where the Pretend comes in. Don't snicker now, Pretend is important. You can use it for a lot more than just bread. To a writer, Pretend IS the bread of life. It is the raison d'etre for dreaming, It finds the richness concealed in the ordinary mess of life. Pretend discovers the hidden jewel that no one else could find. It is the sunlight which brightens sorrow, the happy companion to disappointment, it can reveal the unknown level which is hidden even above happiness, and it can take mediocrity and cover it all over with wonderful memories. To be able to Pretend is to have great power and if you can't Pretend, then you can always play like you can! Yum.

'Moan Dads

"Come on Crawdads, let's go!"

When was the last time you heard a grown man say words like this with heartfelt enthusiasm? For me it was the bottom of the seventh inning at Frans Stadium in Hickory as the Hickory Crawdads came to bat trailing the Hagerstown Suns 6 to 4.

Our first visit to the home of the 'Dads was enjoyable. Temperature was in the low 80's and humidity in the low 50's. A beautiful blue sky finally sketched a thin line of clouds across the sky just in time to turn purple, pink, red and a little yellow to melt into the denim-blue shadow of the Earth.

There have been some changes in the old pastime over the years. Back in the days of my youth, you would get to know the stranger who was sitting within talking distance of you in almost every baseball game. At first one of you might just comment on an unusual play, then that would expand to other comments, soon to embrace other members of the ball park who were sitting nearby. Well, baseball, indeed IS a game of inches, and it doesn't really begin to jell until sometime around the seventh inning. Like a sculpture, it is built, piece by piece, turn by turn, slice by slice. Knowledgeable fans, back in those good old days, would follow every pitch, anticipating the order and effect. "OK, now - last times Jones was up he struck-out on a high, inside pitch". You might pass this on to one of your new friends sitting near you. He might respond "Yeah. look for a slider on the outside corner to start with, then come back inside and low - back him off the plate and THEN come in with a fast ball low in the zone!" One of your other new friends might add "And then go outside for a setup and come back with the old sucker pitch!" (Sucker pitch being a high, inside pitch). And you would intently watch, approving as the catcher and pitcher followed your common knowledge, and groaning when they failed. And you would hang on every pitch, mentally motioning outfielders left and right as the pitch order changed. It was very much like a game of bridge or chess.

Well, those days are gone. Now loud music blasts in from loudspeakers as soon as each pitch is completed. It swells, and the crowd may clap, then instantly all falls silent as the pitcher begins his windup. Between innings, instead of getting to know your new friends, now there are clowns staggering around trying to pretend they are doing stupid things like falling down or chasing groundskeepers, and all this with more music beat and comments from the PA system.

So the new game seems not so much a sport involving a complex of performing and comprehending skills as it is a presentation of purposefully inept spoof. But then, that is America, the place where the real tradition is always change.

Note

NOTE: Travel comments previously posted to "Celebration" have been moved to "Pathways" which can be found at
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/

Titanic at Hickory Community Theatre

A lot of things went well with this presentation. The set, the costumes, the makeup was good, and there was some really nice and compelling acting that took place several places in the play. Unfortunately, the singing always started back up again.

So it became a kind of a game. The actors pretended that they were singing OK, and you pretended that it really didn't sound too bad, and you would hang on through the awkward parts and pretend that you were enjoying the play except that something with the audio system also didn’t work well. It was too loud at times and too soft sometimes, and it distorted too much.

From my point of view there were too many stories told, many of which didn’t get a chance to come across because of time constraints, and you didn’t want to hear some of them sung so badly. Creating believable and interesting characters requires a little nuance - you can't just come out and say what this person is and go on to the next character like cutting out paper dolls. Compare this with “Doubt” in which the four stories weren’t really told at all and you had to piece them together, detective-like, from hints that were carefully dropped. Compare this also with “The Producers” in which all the actors were shamelessly having fun - and so was the audience. But in this story, what was trying to be told was how totally the world was changing from the days of antiquity into an exciting new world. It didn't really work for me because the stories seemed too fragmentary.

A musical with 40-some actors is a significantly complicated challenge for almost any community. If there had been a good "screen play" written for this musical, and it had been acted out instead of sung - with a little bit of singing in the background from time to time by an unseen (or partly seen - like the orchestra was) group of people who could sing well and carry the narrative- and segue from acting into singing - I think it could have been a knockout.

Reflections - Wali

Looking back upon his life, our dog Wali celebrates his fifteenth birthday.

The name "Wali" (waal-LEE) is a transliteration of an Arabic word meaning "protective friend", and that is exactly what Wali has been. He came into our life as a puppy when we lived up on a breezy ridge, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains, well out in those great forests. We were overrun with stray dogs that pillaged our compost, attacked our garden, chased our cat and cowered our other two dogs, who both weighed about eighty-five pounds. Wali put an end to all that in the first month he was with us. By then he was beginning to approach fifteen pounds (on the way to his eventual sixty-one). But he was fearless. And fast. And loud. Now we live in a small city and his life has become quiet. He can hardly hear anything now, and doesn't see very well either, and is down to about forty pounds, once again a smallish dog with great paws and a large head. But his life is still full because he is a dog of light who reflects great events and great moments. And even today you can see him sitting there on his old rocky ridge. He spends a lot of time there now, intently watching all the gleaming lights from the forests beneath him, listening to the sounds of his own land and smelling worlds that we humans will never even know about. He is clearly master of all he surveys, and is quite at home, reflecting on his own very special universe.

Welcome to the Big 1-5. Happy birthday, Wali.

"Moonlight and Magnolias" in Hickory, NC, at the Fireman's Kitchen, HCT

Bill Boyd on the left as Victor Fleming and Anthony Liguori playing David Selznick, take a truer than life run at the wickedly-wild world of Hollywood. Fiction always does get a lot more truth out than the most sober and consciousness meticulation can ever produce and this play is a great example of how that takes place.

I won’t go through the plot because that would strip the impact of the actors from the play, let’s just say that they they took a clearly implausible story, breathed life into it and created an enjoyable work of art.

Bob Smith as Ben Hecht and Connie Bools as MIss Poppenghul rounded out the cast. Hechct was the key character in the play as he wove a mixture of Jewish-Southern-New York innuendic folklore into the story of a book he had never read. Fortunately he had a LOT of help in understanding the screen play he wound up writing.

I was attracted to the Fleming character. He reminded me of some people I had known in the upper echelons of state government when I worked in Tallahassee. The Selznick and Heckt guys were sometimes pretty good, and the Poppenghul character was faithful to her role. The bananas and peanuts were weirdy-weird though, and the Jew-boy thing got off message and wandered badly - I kept thinking it would be woven into the story somehow and would provide an ultimate meaning, bringing some new light of understanding on the Civil War. Instead, it got forgotten - and that's not good writing. AND the pop-corn popper hanging on the wall WAS NEVER USED!!! - That is awesomely bad theatre!

Boyd and Liguori showed how life can be lived, way out there at the end of the world of reason, when the only hope you have left is that desperate promise of the greatest glory on earth. They also showed how ordinary these people can be who aspire to that perch - and how awful those wonderful jobs might really have been.

Clearly the most memorable part of the movie “Gone With the Wind” was Rhett Butler telling Scarlett O’Hara that he frankly didn’t “give a damn”. I remember back some sixty-two years ago hearing those lines in a movie theater in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and that genteel audience gasped "UHHHHHH!" in shock at those awful words. Well! Ron Hutchinson, who wrote this screen play, crowned that great quote by going even better than that. What was it? Heh-heh. You will be amazed!

Springtime in Hickory

This entry moved to The Dancing Trail blog. http://thedancingtrail.blogspot.com/2009/04/springtime-in-hickory.html

Poetry Alive with Ted Pope

Ted Pope took the Taste Full Beans Coffeehouse by storm Tuesday night, and when he was through reading, the place looked like a storm HAD hit. Paper was strewn all around the stage and lectern area and the audience was wide-eyed in amazement and holding on to their tables for dear life.

It was quite a show by a real showman. Even when the dreaded cappuccino machine cut loose with its randomly-awarded raspberry, Pope instantly incorporated THAT into the poem he was reciting at the moment as if he had practiced the timing of those events for a month, and had gotten it down perfectly!

How good WAS it? Well, I’m not a poet so I dare not venture into that web, but I can say that the first sheet of paper Pope wadded up and threw to the floor was very dramatic. Particularly since it struck the right note in the thought that was also then being delivered. And the next two or three added to the first event almost like visual and background alliteration. But then it became more like consonation and finally assonation, and eventually it was . . . well, I have a two-year old granddaughter and she started to come to my mind.

Also, Pope had no problem with stage presence or getting the audience’s attention. But I did sense a problem with the audience understanding who he really is because we saw only one part of Pope. The game face part. Now Elvis comes to mind. Here was a guy who could romp and stomp with the roughest and toughest, but sometimes Elvis would also coo a tender love song that caused young ladies to actually die right in their chairs, and he would also occasionally spin out an ancient lullaby that would bring tears to the eyes of old women. Then he was back on the stage again rockin’ and sockin’ and stompin’ and rompin’ and air-copulatin’ and sweatin’ and spinning’.

That’s why I wanted to speak to Ted after it was over. And when I did, I saw a nice guy with great talent. It is my feeling that if he could show a deeper side of his personality, if only for one poem, that it would enhance his performance immensely. If you get a chance to see Ted Pope, don’t miss it. You'll probably see me there too.

Prolepsis

Shadows cast by coming events. More to the point, intuitive awareness or those shadows before they are even noticed.

This is an early heads-up about a book that will change the world. New book? Of course. Actually it was first published in 1980, its eleventh version in 2002. It was written by a man who walked, and still walks the same earth as all the rest of us do. Just like Charles Darwin who saw nothing that anyone else had never seen before, but like Darwin, the writer of this book didn’t understand what everyone else understood. Darwin asked questions that no one else had ever asked before. And since these questions had never been asked before, there were no answers. He had to figure them out for himself.

So too this book which is called “The Nature of Order”, walks over familiar ground, sees all those things that we all know, but it asks the questions that we never thought of asking. We all have wondered about them - but we never asked them. And we never tried to answer them.

Christopher Alexander has actively lived in our commonly shared world of wonder for a long time. He was the driving force behind the great book which he co-authored called “The Pattern Language”, which has always seemed sufficient unto itself - until now. But that book was basically a statement of axioms which he had discovered and organized. This new book is a discussion of how those “axioms” came to be, how they work, how they are organized and how their fundamental composition can be used by us to shape a new world in which we might someday live and work.

I have read 88 pages of the first volume which is titled “The Phenomenon of Life”. Not always easy reading. Alexander is an architect, not a writer. He repeats a lot, but he has a lot to say. This first volume is some 475 pages, and is followed by volume two, “The Process of Creating LIfe”; volume three, “A Vision of a Living World”; and volume four, “The Luminous Ground”. And the books are expensive. What was he thinking?

Well, the book is not for everyone. I put the “Nature of Order” on my Blogspot page and found a grand total of nine people in the world who have also done that. I have corresponded with one or two. Strange people they are. Not like me. But interesting.

Prolepsis. Just so you will know.

Requiem for a Rassler?

A sad movie, from my point of view, which showed America slipping under an imaginary boundary separating "second-world" from "third-world" nation. It seemed to me a brutal story terribly told of trapped and tortured animals of the homo sapiens species, although not quite human in some awful sense. Strippers, on the one hand who only resembled human females in physical form but who were denied expression of the defining traits of femininity. On the other end of this tale are the "wrestlers", far removed from their Grecian prototypes and far also removed from the gestalt of human correspondence, retaining only that vestige visited occasionally by the normal male of "good-ole boy" bondage. Their common bond being their willingness to permit their "friends" to savagely and excessively rip their bodies apart for the amusement of their "fans". Once out of the glitter of the performing stage, these pitiful creatures were blown by the winds of winter along frozen landscapes decorated with destroyed buildings and decrepit trailer parks through a world which held them in smug contempt. All this for those few moments when they performed for their clearly emotionally-deformed admirers. Perhaps the worst part of it all was the premise that these gifts of life are being passed not from a Great Creator to an Adam-creature as seen in Michelango's great work and who can now commence on his own volition, but from a detritus of human wreckage left by a society which had collapsed and are "awarded" as a finger might point to the blame.

The real story of this movie, for me at least, is a call to examine our own lives to see how much we too strive to honor principles and serve masters who seek our souls and our humanity.

Academia Nut?

Went to Lenoir-Rhyne University today to see a photo exhibition. It was in the Visual Arts Center (VAC) which is listed as being on 8th Avenue NE, but really isn’t there at all. There are no signs on 8th Avenue to show its presence, and none of the five people (students?) I asked on 8th Avenue knew where it was. It was supposed to be at 643 and 1/2 on the avenue and there was 653 and the building next to it was 633 and nothing in between except a maintenance shop which was well back off the street. Turns out the VAC is behind the maintenance shop. Once there I found five parking spaces. They were all taken, of course.

Well, once in the VAC, which seems to be basically a converted construction shed, there were about 60 or 65 photographs displayed on walls. The pictures were black-matted on white paper and covered with cellophane-type material. Many of them appeared to be about 6X8 or 8X10 inches. A few were a little larger.

Two of the pictures were nice and two others were interesting. There was a lot of trouble with darkness in the pictures and only one or two were completely in focus. That’s not a big problem for me, but I do try to keep the out-of-focus parts in the background and not the subject as was often the case here. Colors seemed kind of jarring with lots of improvisation and not much harmony, saturation was completely missing. Tones were not usually organized and a lot of the photos were hung up in the two, three, four zonal range. There was no composition or even use of design elements, no stories were told. The only emotions emerging from the display were faint whiffs of puzzlement. Snacks were offered and “Barefoot” wine was available. The wine accompanied the photographs very well and the munchies were eleganté.

Well, I haven’t mentioned the photographer’s name and I won’t. The whole thing seemed so bizarre, especially with all these obviously well-educated people standing there, peering intently at the photographs, thoughtfully munching their goodies and knowingly sipping their wine, I felt like I had gone terribly wrong and missed the entire message. So I walked outside and came back in again. That didn’t help.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in a vacuous kind of way. I felt left out. Some of them actually seemed to be floating there in front of the photos. I guess it is just an academia thing.

There IS such a thing as photographic art. And one of the things any artist learns early in that game is to show ONLY your very best work.

2nd South Carolina String Band in Hickory

To the Catawba Science Center auditorium to watch a performance by the “2nd South Carolina String Band” as they played music from the American Civil War period.


Stories were told and background information provided that made the music even more interesting. They talked about how Stephen Foster was going to name his great epic “The Pee Dee” instead of “Swaunee”, and his producer was the one who supposedly came up with the name change, although there is no official hook anywhere upon which to hang that allegation.

The auditorium was perhaps one-third filled and occasionally the crowd joined in clapping and singing. There was a lot of toe-tapping and head-bobbing throughout.

“The Ministral Boy to the War Has Gone” by flutist Greg Hernandez was a show stopper, but the biggest hit of the day was the finale, “Dixie” which was played by the entire ensemble standing and sung by the entire audience who were also standing. The band has a significant presence on the web. Just Google "2nd South Carolina String Band" or begin at http://www.civilwarband.com/about.shtml

Later to a “baseball” contest in which Lenoir-Rhyne University was easily out-played by the Mars Hill College team. We saw the first four innings of the last game, the second double-header played in two days. LRU lost all four games at home 22-13, 8-5, 13-9 and 14-3. We accidentally set in the Mars Hill fan section, and they seemed like nice people. (Easy to seem nice with a weekend like that!) We enjoyed the parched peanuts http://web.mac.com/fauxtaographer/iWeb/Blue%20Mountain%20Kitchen/Dips%20%26%20Fancies.html we had fired up for the occasion.

Lenoir, North Carolina. Living Proof

Lenoir, North Carolina is living proof that Alfred Hitchcock indeed is dead. For if he were still alive, scenes from Lenoir would undoubtedly rumble through the bedrooms of people across the world in the form of nightmare images. Memories rebroadcast in fitful dreams would crawl out of scenes etched from screens of television and movies that are part of the story that is told here - in that other universe called Lenoir.

The right word is somehow missing. "Wild" is not it. "Dangerous" completely misses the point. †here is the hint of another universe here that speaks of different laws and different measures of success and failure, different values of comprehension. Here there seems an air of finality. Somehow a judgement has been rendered. There is a sense of it all being over, of being tested and having failed, an understanding that the whole world is sinking into crumbles, falling from light down, down into darkness.

But then there is Pink here too. And the color Pink brings a counter beat, a ray not so much a hope of rescue as an intention to hit the bottom with dignity. No Drinking Please, and another pink bow. OK, so we go down. OK, but we will remember sunshine and I will still remember love, because it once was given to me. And somehow I do know this. That when it is all over, it will not be through. I will still smile at you. And when it is all over, then finally - maybe you will smile back at me. That's my love that I give to you.

And don't blame Lenoir. Go there and see for yourself. It is a nice town, a pretty place. There is beauty there and art and sunshine. It is not America but America IS Lenoir. It is good to see this in a small place where it can be comprehended and understood. And it is important that we know where we really are and can see where we are clearly headed.

Beer Tasting and Lecture in Hickory

Beer tasting at the Fireman's Kitchen. Pretty good event from about 7:30 till 9 p.m. Three lecturers pointed out some of the finer aspects of beer as the audience sampled some 7 or 8 different types. We began with a sweet light clear beer from the Caribbean, Then we went right into a brown ale, followed by an bitter beer, and on to an "export" Indian pale ale, then to stout followed by an Old Hickory Taproom stout, finally a Hefeweizen. At the end, they sprang a gluten-free mess on us that NO one drank but everyone acknowledged to be awful with wry faces.

The hors d'ouevs were smashing. All the way from roasted peanuts to pizza, including kielbasa, Italian sausage, chicken pieces, meatballs, cheese cubes, and little sausages cooked in drippy, salty, sumptuous sauce. And there was a LOT more including chocolate which went (I am told) extremely well with the last two stouts.

Lots of friendly people were present and conversations ran strongly all night long. I might point out that the beer samples were on the order or the two-ounce sizes, so there wasn't any singing or lampshade wearing - actually, it turned more toward an intellectual bent as indicated by many of the questions that were asked. We discussed things such as "original gravity", "•Plato", "apparent extract", IBUs, EBCs and EBCs.

Good evening, everybody learned a lot, and we all enjoyed the drinks, food, lectures, discussions and ambience.

Barefoot In The Park - Greenroom

Quick run down to Newton to the Green Room to see "Barefoot in the Park".

Lots of fun to see, the play went well, and was very good at times. Acting sometimes seemed like actors acting like characters they had read about somewhere. Sometimes they did very good, sometimes they acted good. There were a lot of short comments, pithy and salient quips, which appeared to be an overtone of the play, some of which were very funny, some of which just couldn't be completely heard.

The staging of the play however, was compelling and interesting. The entire stage was totally redecorated between acts one and two by people apparently coming out of the audience. There was a lot of this type of reward for those who went to the Green Room.

The four personalities revealed on stage were developed through vignettes which must have been Neil Simon's niche, but they didn't really catch fire, probably because of the acoustics in the auditorium. Laughter throughout the audience was scattered, probably more to the ability of the auditorium to deliver the short statements rather than to the comprehension of the audience. Yet it was a very entertaining evening and the venue was nice. After the play was over, the actors were out "front" meeting and shaking the hands of the patrons who were on their way out. Touch of class.

Hickory Museum of Art - Chagall Presentation

Vivian Jacobson presented a discussion and slide show about Marc Chagall Sunday, March 15, 2009, in the Hickory Museum of Art. The presentation was attended by about sixty people and seemed well received. A short discussion followed and included comments about the contributions from the audience about some of the effects of Chagall's work including other well-known personalities such as Martin Buber, Author Koestler, Toscanini and even Elvis Presley.

Ms. Jacobson had known and worked with Mr. Chagall during the last 11 years of his life and she commented about him both as a personality as well as from personal knowledge. She also made insightful pointers about some of his paintings. I was struck by the composition of many of his paintings. Many, perhaps most of his subjects were positioned in the center of the frame, there seemed to be no verticality to the figures except in the final sense that they were somehow balanced and stable, he extensively had white areas touching the sides or top of the pictures and he used color in a remarkably contrasty manner. Green was largely absent from the work we saw today and when it was used it was richly saturated, heavy in value and sparingly used, or else it totally dominated the picture. Blues were his main color, lushly tinted and shaded, and a reddish-brownish-orangish-ochreish color shared that rule of his pictures with the blues, although the blues seemed not so richly melded with other hues.

Another "bravissimo!" for the Hickory Museum of Art. Nice work Lisë.

Springtime Cometh - Yea!

Hadn't walked my doggies for three days. The 100-pounder gets restless when this happens and he had gone far beyond restless all the way down into the pit which lies far beneath ennui. Great soulful eyes of sadness finally got to me so we went for a quick walk during a pause in the rain. Since it would be a short trip we walked a different path, one we had never walked before.

I noticed something that looked strange - a dead end street with a construction barrier at the end of it. New construction? Wow. So we went down there to see. Unfortunately, it had been terminated some time ago, maybe a year or two ago.We wandered into the area to look around, since it had sidewalks on both sides of a nicely winding street and then the rain came back. It was time to head for home. Shortly after turning around I suddenly realized (as Horace Kephart says it is always "suddenly") that I was lost! How on earth (no pun intended) could I, a Master Navigator who had crossed the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans countless times get lost a couple of blocks from my home? But I had no idea which way to go. So we stood there, my doggie Mujib and me, in the rain looking soulfully at each other for suggestions.

Then I saw this view. A nice monochrome green tapestry with grass and daffodill leaves and dark fir background, decorated by the contrasting hues of Japanese magnolia and daffodils flowers under a dark sky which fully saturated the colors - hard to beat. I pulled my camera out and made the shot, then we went home.

Kephart says "sit down, chew on a twig, draw a map in the dirt . . .", well making a photo is even better. Some of the best shots of springtime are made in the rain. I get so tied up in making the picture that I often lose track of whether it is raining or not or ever where I am.