Steve I met Steve Ashby in 1972 doing a project for Chuck Perdue’s folklore class. Steve lived here, in Delaplane Virginia.“Steve Ashby lived his entire life in a small town in Virginia, an unincorporated community roughly fifty miles west of Washington, DC. The son of an emancipated slave, he was the second of twelve children. Outside of a brief stint as a restaurant waiter, Ashby spent most of his life working the soil as a farmer and gardener until he retired in 1950. Although he had tinkered with small-scale wooden sculptures throughout his life, it was only after the death of his wife in 1960 that he started to experiment with figural sculptures.–National Gallery of Art“ Steve told me he’d dream things at night, wake up and carve them in the morning. I don’t remember seeing a TV in Steve’s house, but somewhere he must have run into Donny and Marie Osmond. Chuck Perdue let me make scrapbooks.
Milky Way Farms Who makes life sized Holstein figurines? Great to live in a place where the cow and calf are not stolen from the front yard.
Thanksgiving date bringing the trial significant other to the Thanksgiving table for provisional butt sniff. Always traumatic.
Mouthy Tilly is “mouthy”, likes greeting people by taking their hands and feet in her mouth. Work remains to be done…
take me back Take me way, way, way back, way backTo when, when I understoodWhen I understood the light, when I understood the light–Van Morrisson
Friday Park sectioned with barriers Respect, tolerance, peace, love. Northwest entrance to park. The air locally heavy with humidity and anticipation.
White Dummies We are the hollow menWe are the stuffed menLeaning togetherHeadpiece filled with straw. Alas!Our dried voices, whenWe whisper togetherAre quiet and meaninglessAs wind in dry grassOr rats’ feet over broken glassIn our dry cellar–T.S.Eliot
100 days The first 100 days, a turbulent atmosphere in which to be raising an animal. Tilly is at 95 days, in a biting phase. Towel, newspapers, bills, cameras, people, rugs, toilet bowl brushes, brooms, Bibles, nothing is safe. And so the gentle efforts continue to adjust the little dog’s nature while leaving her spirit intact. Introduce her to the finer things. Encourage her to be an active participant in community events (here listening to CHO City Councilors and Charlottesville Area Tree Stewards at Arbor Day event). Participate in local politics. National is riotous, local makes a difference. I am having physical health issues. Dr. John Sarno would say I am having mental health issues. Maybe a combination of both. I have Doctor appointments. Tilly has reality appointments, the continuing secondary socialization and inoculation to the wildness of the world. Pepe the cat hammers home the cat lives matter message. Tilly learns to totally ignore the internal combustion engine with the help of most excellent neighbor Uncle Chuck. The water dog lessons continue with little advancement in attitude. Tilly has seen other dogs wet, she has fallen headlong into a neighbor’s fishpond (thankfully she held her breath while fully submersed). So, much like her 100 day companion, Tilly takes baby steps, practices incrementalism. Someday she will be a water dog. Her health has been good. Her appetite is Labradorian. Externally, she is good. But what of the inner dog? We hang around Buddhas at every opportunity. Catching the middle way by proximity. Does the dog occupy a celebrated role in any religion? one Working on it.