Thursday, March 3, 2016. Thriving Together, in Art. Three easels set up in a college apartment. One of them seems to be getting it true,. The other two point out. 8220;hands are the hardest thing. That echo from the past comes to me now. Remembering them, picturing them to the point of. Tactile imaginings bringing them real, here and now. Take a look at thei.

Words will, on occasion find their way to a fixed position upon a page, but their origin is elsewhere, always. Deep within the forest that is our mind, we gather clusters of words to form language. On occasion we will verbalize it. We can of course communicate this way with one another. Such communication requires basic skills to do well. It is an art form. It takes on shapes, images, smells, color and emotion, coming alive before our eyes. All cultures and all generations.

Musings about beer, breweries and pubs. Personally I like good beer, no matter how it gets in the glass. Bottle, keg, cask, direct from the F. But when it comes to venues, I prefer comfortable, cosy, traditional style.

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I stand high atop the truck bed. On a long summer day. Raining shovelfuls of pea stone. Just curse under our breath. About the heat and our work. Later on, he tells me that. One of the mowers is broken,. That he wants me to learn. The one out past Walden Pond,. That we need to load up the truck, get going.