We went fishing on Saturday, and I took a few pictures. The wind was fairly bitter, but the air was full of birds and we were giddy being outside. The boys fished off the dam while I took refuge on the leeward side out of the wind and contemplated the sky with a bottle of my favourite wine.
The boys quickly joined me, and we spent a good two hours laughing and drinking and laying on the grass, watching the geese fly overhead. Most of the pictures were taken after I finished most of a bottle by myself, and I was a little stumbly on my feet. In fact, that’s not the only picture of my feet I have – there are a few.
The ice hasn’t quite melted, and it rattled along the edge of the dam as the wind tossed the lake in waves against the rocks. The geese ambled aggressively across the surface of the ice, but the few pictures I took of them did not come out clearly.
Today I woke up and worked all day, until two o’clock when I lay down on my studio floor and watched a storm blow in while I listened to tibetan bells. I had a sudden keen remembrance of myself when I was about twelve or thirteen, doing exactly the same thing. This, at least, is a girl I know.
