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IT WAS VERY UNEXPECTED. I had no plans to buy any famous artwork today. But on this gray and rainy afternoon, I just happened to stop by a place where it was offered for sale--fine prints of the works of well-known artists. The moment my eyes lit upon the offered works, there was just no question about it--I had to have a couple! Yes, I say "a couple," but I guess I should tell you, Dear Reader, right up front, it was more than a few. (Oh, can I admit this?)...TEN great prints ended up in my car.


By all means, it was impulse buying. I didn't stop to think, but made up my mind immediately, I suppose because it was a gloomy afternoon and these paintings were little rays of sunshine to my spirit. So many are in my favorite colors--there is Mark Rothko's Orange and Yellow, Hans Hofmann's The Golden Wall. And the Jackson Pollock, Convergence--I bought it just because it's so big! I also walked away with Joan Mitchell's La Grande Vallee, a simple pleasure. The Adolph Gottlieb--Romanesque Facade (which Adolph created, Dear Reader, in the self-same year of my own creation) is one of my favorites. Then there's the Robert Motherwell; I like the painting (Elegy to the Spanish Republic, #34) only slightly less than the painter's surname, and I do like the painting.





Well, I don't suppose I should prattle on about every single one right now. Suffice it to say, I like them all--and together they make a lovely collection. Wanda, the woman who sold them to me, was pleased with the set, and joined with me in my exclamations of delight.





"You are the one who can really appreciate them!" she said.



"A lot of people," she said, "don't really care, as long as they get the job done; they do it the easy way and buy their stamps in booklets or rolls."

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Unbeatable prices!
$4.40 for 10 at your local
usps.

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SO I DID. Admittedly, it was a few days later, but I did heed my own advice yesterday, and went marching forth--much to my relief and delight and mood enhancement and increased sun-absorption and bone-density advancement and muscle build-up and, really, I might just as well say it: Overall Benefit.

After all, the day was pretty much insisting on compliance with the deal I had made the night before--If it's warm enough and not raining, I will, I will, I will take a walk tomorrow! True, I could have weaseled out of it by further defining "warm enough," and that, in itself, would have been complicated by the fact that there was a stiff breeze blowing.


But, hey, I had made the deal! (I'm not quibbling about exactly who, what, or which little wrinkle of my brain was going to hold me accountable if the deal were broken, but it's likely to be that same little wrinkle long beleaguered by my "will not, will not, will not eat any more chocolate today" promises--so frequently broken.) And so it felt good to march forth--just for the victory of it, if nothing else.

Furthermore, I didn't just walk my walk, but ventured far out into the countryside; I crossed a pleasant little stream and encountered some cows taking their Sunday afternoon lie-around. "Ladies," I said, though I kept my voice low, hoping not to offend," you are quite seriously dirty! It's been a while since I've seen such bedraggled bovine."


Very calmly they looked at me, and I was certain they hadn't heard. Then one slowly rose and meandered over to speak to me. Her earrings both read 'Dakota'.

"Darling," she said, and she looked so gentle and spoke with such dignity, "we're not cats, you know." Then she added in a whisper, "...Constantly licking themselves!" And I'm sure I saw her ever so slightly rolling her eyes.

Well, of course. I hadn't thought of that. I apologized to Dakota and felt bad for making aspersions. And how could they possibly keep themselves clean in the mud of melted snow. (Yes, still plenty of that around, though I studiously omitted photographing it, considering my vow of avoidance.)


I'm hoping, Dear Reader, that you've also been marching forth into warm and precipitation-free days. It won't be long before we will all have a new spring in our step; and I'll be gushing and raving and falling all over myself because of that spring.


You know I will.
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THERE'S NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, it's time to begin the rest of your life, Dear Reader, so go now! Go!
March forth!!


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THANKS FOR THE HAPPY MOMENTS, I told him as I drove by yesterday. "Yours was a life well-lived." And he did have an exceptional span of time--so filled with the stuff that made his world go round. I'm glad I got to pay my final respects to the cheerful fellow.










Rest In Peace*






*That's that--no more postings on snow or creatures made out of it.
What? You don't believe me?

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REQUIEM FOR WINTER
It's just an early goodbye,




because sometimes the end comes ahead of schedule
perhaps in the dark of night
the last traces sinking like a sigh
into the sympathetic earth
the warm birth
--gushing gutterspouts of spring--
subsuming the death throes
in its brightening melody






What I mean to say is: Hallelujah!
(And yes, yes, of course I've got my fingers crossed.)
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