|Spider web strands and grass blowing in the breeze.|
Many years ago when I lived in San Diego and sailed, I learned of the sailor’s morning breeze. The cool of the night over the ocean would greet the sun’s warmth and the two would mingle stirring up a morning breeze. My friendship with Eleanor is like a sailor’s breeze. So consistently stirring that the relationship resembles a law of nature.
You can see a light silly breeze blowing through our eyes in these two photos.
|The dishcloth was painted by three-year-old grand niece, Greta.|
We seem to share a quirky sense of humor.
When we went to Madera Canyon to go birding, I am was the cool analytical one thinking of bird lists. Eleanor, however, likely knows as many birds as I. She showed me a couple of dozen tiles that she had painted with bird species. She sees them in their tiniest of details; I see them in their flitting and in the stories that they generate. We appreciate each other’s talents. I paused to take this photo of a billboard in northern Arizona. Eleanor gave pause to examine it closer.
As I took photos in the canyon, Eleanor drew a tree trunk.
Out for a drive, Eleanor pointed out her favorite cacti. I went for a stroll the next day and took a photo of one of them in her neighborhood and then proceeded to capture house details. She showed me how to make spiffier photos and I sent her house photos at her request. Ideas and suggestions blow past each other without jealousy. The relationship is a good one.
|I could sit here for awhile.|
When I lived with Eleanor in college we had a little T.V. She had painted over it entirely (screen and all) with stripes and polka dots. This protest fit us both, as we were readers and doers. The habits have not left us. Eleanor’s house and patio are filled with evidence of a painter and sculpture’s life. Moreover, she has cabinets filled with collections of feathers, shells, tiny antique toys, and pictures. They resemble some of my shelves at home.
I love visiting Eleanor and seeing her work. She took me to the local Y to see a large canvas on the lobby wall that she had done. It is huge! Here is a detail on one corner.
Best of all she took me to see a baby shower gift. Now you must be confused. Why would I be mentioning a gift for a baby? Her gift was precisely the kind that I can appreciate. Not bought from a list at a store or purchased with the experience of babyhood. Not one more shirt or too cute outfit. Her gift was given in a tiny painted box on a tiny painted note that simply said “A mural". Eleanor gifted this baby a wall mural in her garden.
|Really! Can you imagine? The child is now about two-years old. Luckiest of babies.|
I left Eleanor’s knowing that we are more committed to seeing each other again. Starting up a breeze, blowing across the land or sea. I’ll be waiting for the morning.
|One of Eleanor's statues waiting in stillness.|