paint strokes

I shut the gate behind Carm with a sigh. He was off to the city for a box of chicken hearts as well as a Costco run, while I had visions of my pillow and a soft bed. A dream about dreaming which was to turn into a nightmare. I was just about to lie down when the construction guys returned from their lunch. A giant pounder pounded away at the concrete and steel of the bridge, while countless huge trucks blared their backing horns as they backed down the road to collect the detrus.

A cacophony.

Forget about the bedroom, the whole house was assaulted with noise, shaking with each strike of the giant wrecking machine. I felt like crying but instead put on my shoes to take the dogs into the field. It seems that their sleep has also been interrupted as they were sluggish. Even wild Adia didn’t do circles in the tall grass.

Maybe with all that has been going on I haven’t mentioned that they are replacing our little bridge with something a bit bigger and more modern.

Spike has been recovering by leaps and bounds. He’s eating everything in sight and running in the field ahead of us, trying to keep up with Adia (he has no chance). It seems impossible to believe that he had all those teeth out just over a week ago.

I wonder how loud I’d have to play my music to drown out the din?

We’ve ordered two paintings from Frank, the artist who did Spike a few years ago. This is the start of our beautiful Kabira’s portrait:

“Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation...tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his ego. His anxiety subsides. His inhuman void spreads monstrously like a gray vegetation.”

~Jean Arp