this is a vine where the sound of a cat’s footprints grows
By the way, I was at a performance of Robert Fripp and his Orchestra of Crafty Guitarists last night. It reminded me again about listening to everything as if it were music.
I’m just back from a few days at a gathering at a camp in the Berkshires. Didn’t get as much time drawing outside as I would’ve liked partly because I was busy but partly because it rained most of the time I was there (including a tornado warning which had the whole camp huddled in a basement and produced drifts of hail). But I did get to spend at least a little time sitting with the little lake and watching newts and small fish.