Sometimes I feel guilty for the mistakes I unknowingly make. Like the one I made with this guy. Something is killing the leaves on my little citrus tree. Slime is the most noticeable evidence left at the crime scene. The get slimed, and then they curl up around the prey trapped inside. I know because I often unwrap the green shroud for a peek at what is there. I am mostly left with a puzzled head-shake because fifty percent of the time there is nothing inside. There is evidence that something went on though. I didn’t know what to think when I found the dragon-looking caterpillar inside; asleep; digesting its dinner?
No matter. I tore away half the leaf before I put this new discovery on my knee and took photos. I forgot about being in my pajamas. I forgot about being wary of spiders. I forgot about the itchy okra. I just went.
It was supposed to rain again so I made a pact with myself. Said I would not bother getting dressed today. It did not that mean I couldn’t go outside between storms in my sleepwear. I know. I sat on a chair. I sat on my little gardening stool. There’s no telling how many weird things hitchhiked inside with me. The thing that mattered most was the discovery.
So. I got a close-up on my MacBook. See that clear coating that surrounds the ladybug? Makes me wonder. I wonder about a lot of what I see here, including the damages I might have by interfering, but not until after. Still I wonder: Was the ladybug there because she wanted to be? Was she molting? Was she hiding out? Was she dinner? She doesn’t look dead at all. Had some predator captured, killed, and was marinating her for a snack or something? Humans can be so silly at times.
I still feel guilty over this little death. She drowned because of me. I left a container on the patio one afternoon. It rained before I had a chance to bring it inside. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered her. She drowned because of me. She’s not the first one I accidentally killed.
This little thing came with a something I rescued or investigated, and I didn’t see it until it was time to clean my desk. Of course I took photos. It wasn’t until later that I discovered she was alive. She managed to crawl onto my keyboard. So, what did I do? I took another photo. Okay, I took several before I rushed downstairs to find a paper towel to use to transfer her outside. By the time I got back she was gone. I think Minuet might have eaten her. Humans can be so silly.
Knowing what I know hasn’t stopped me from getting the shot. Take this moth. I never figured out how it found its way inside, but I managed to take shot after shot, while it flung itself against the glass door. Silly thing. I came to myself in time to save it from myself. I opened the door and shooed it to freedom. What if one of the doves saw it? And ate it? Silly human, me!
Okay. There is no pretending that this is a stellar drawing. I have done very little art work since my sister passed on, so am more than rusty; yet, this is good enough for me. Sheesh. Am distracted by the bulge. BRB. Gotta go fix it.
Okay. It is done. I am too lazy to scan another copy, so I hope you will take my word that the tweaked drawing is much better. So. I did the sketch for my brother, who is the only person I know who doesn’t the name of the fastest man on the planet. To help him out, I decided to send him the entire Olympics 2012 sport section of the NYT I’ve been saving for any possible future grands that might come my way. Since I could not send him such marvels in a plain white envelope, I tarted it up just a little. Hope you get at least a smile from my efforts.
. . . represents the way I feel inside. This is how life look since my sister passed on: hollowed out, like a black hole, dark, empty, flat, surreal, unreal, introverted . . .
Caring about anything beyond the basic basics demands too much energy. More than I seem to have. It’s been two months but too often it feels like two days. It’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten the passwords to five of my seven blogs. Like I care. The old me would be in a major panic. The same old me doesn’t care right now. Maybe later. Or not.
I don’t have much that wants saying. My drawings aren’t funny or annoying. Since May 5 there have been few, and the ones that managed to break free are sad or moody. And we know how death and mourning are avoided like they’re catching.Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one who wants to avoid my sister’s passing and my own mourning.
Colors fall flat tonight.
Last night I had problems laying down graphite. My perspective was so skewed it made my eyes go dark and damp. So, I put aside my pencil and stood at the window. I had to say goodnight.
She lay in a room across the way. So close, yet too far gone to hear me calling–asking her to stay. Or, come back? I could pretend it was pretend, but why?
Opening the way didn’t help.
Did anything change with the light of day? If it did, please show me the way. I want to see for myself. What a cruel cross to bear. Irony? Or, “Pun intended”? How foolish! Who came up with that crap anyway?
Goodnight, Mina. I love you.
See what I got! They came in yesterday’s mail. Written on the envie is “Rattle Ok.” LOL! I thought, “Hmm. Candy?” Oh, no. It’s something a hundred times better. Take a look-see.
This is the top row. There are three in all. Each one prettier than the first. A gentle spill onto my lap desk and . . . Just look.
Tell me these don’t look like colored Sugar Babies, and I’ll know you’ve never had a bag. Or what about those big colored Easter egg candies? The ones with the hard sugar-coating and soft centers. You can taste the dye no matter how hard you try not to. The best thing about these? They’re not candies! No-o-o. They’re . . .
They’re a gift from a new friend. These are so special. I tried the brown one. Made gentle little marks on a toothy piece of paper. I am so gone. In like. Waiting to give the box a work-out. Tell me . . . Have you rocked recently? Show me what chew got. Um, thanks in advance.