I was reading the Edward Hirsch poem on Edward Hopper's House by the Railroad in McQuade and McQuade when Honey leaped to the bookcase and began to lunch on the tulip leaves [again]. Windowlight ignited lush amber fur and turned tattered flowers to amethysts and emeralds.The snarl of protest rising in my throat died. I reached for my camera and softly called to her, snapping the picture just as she turned her head.
Completely new experiences can be frightening. Once, when I was staring at a blank piece of hotpress paper in a watercolor studio class, my instructor Ann Iott, ambled past and left a divot of black charcoal in the upper right-hand corner of my paper. After I got over being angry [1.5 seconds] I managed to fumble through the first assignment. Operating under the assumption that anything is better than nothing, I submit this photo and a bit of purplish prose having nothing to do with the first assignment.
