It's gloomy outside. Our Leghorn rooster was crowing at 3:30 a.m. (?) I can't imagine what the other chickens thought of him? His voice sounds like Lennon's: "I've got blisters on my fingers" which we have translated to: "I'm wearing white underpants." He's a wackadoodle. His brother isn't as vocal as he is. They're beautiful-- classic white, high-struttin', chest out-- proud to be the king pins on this little farm.
Yesterday, I had a lot of meetings, preparing for the upcoming semester. Some wonderful events are planned. Went to my last sketchbook class. We created still life arrangements. I put a strawberry on the lips of a Roman head, but the young men in my class were offended and removed the strawberry, but didn't think twice about the wine bottle or the phone off the hook.
I found all of this more of a prose piece than a sketch, but I did do a quick sketch twice of the arrangement. I was having a tough time with proportion and placement (composition).
Marilyn really helped me out with "seeing" it correctly. Now to practice what I've learned on my own. Sad. The class is over. Felt like an eye blink.
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