#163 – Tuesday, September 30th
Almost every morning Molly and I go to the park. At this time of day, it’s very quiet. We’ll share our solitude with the “small dog cabal,” a group of older folks who regularly congregate at a bench on the east side of the park, under the trees, with their very small dogs. (I think there’s some sort of rule . . . the minimum number of small dogs one person can have, shall be divisible by three). There’s a smattering of others appearing now and again with canine companions, their owners congenial enough for a wave, and that’s it. The cabal and I exchange pleasantries, the very small dogs joyfully running amuck. But Molly is all business. I throw, she catches, as we work our way across the field. Back in the studio two canvasses await. I’m right there with Molly, chasing after my very own flying disks.
Thanks for reading.