Sunday, August 23, 2015
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
If I dream about a book. A book like no book I've ever read before. With pictures, the likes of which I've never seen anywhere else. Written and illustrated by a girl I, more or less, know. A girl who, in real life, is a fine writer and wonderful artist, but has yet to publish anything bound...
Is this dream book mine for the writing?
Or am I stealing?
I feel like I'm stealing.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
We were talking about the color of my magic toad. Yes, he's red. Something to do with the clay in these parts, I reckon, though I truly don't have a clue. He could have been blushing, for all I know, mustering a spell of some sort.
This little fella, however, magical as he appears, fell into some pond brine I had dumped out. Perfectly non-toxic stuff, though at full strength, I learned, isn't about to just wash off. A thorough scrubbing produced only this polished, cranky turquoise nugget, which was far better than the bottle green he was prior to bathing, but still, difficult to explain to friends and family, I'm sure.