This is an egg + apple still life drawn in pencil in 1992.
Month: July 2020
Caveat: Poem #1439 “Twenty-first stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon sat by the lakeshore and watched: wind-woven waves biting stones where they touched, trees overseeing the greenness and breeze, clouds climbing skies with magnificent ease.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Tree #553
I saw this tree.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
Caveat: Lot 73 is fruitful
I found some berries: salmonberries and blueberries.
Caveat: Art #73
I did this ink drawing in 1992 in imitation of some famous drawing or painting, but I’m not sure at the moment which. It was preliminary to doing my own original drawing of the San Marino house’s backyard fountain.
Caveat: Poem #1438 “Knowing delicious”
ㅁ The slug ate lettuce Like a tiny bulldozer It knew delicious
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #552
Once again a blueberry bush is featured as a tree. I think the boundary is fuzzy. Blueberries around here are often treeish. This one isn’t very healthy, but is quite treeish.
[daily log: walking, 1km; lifting, pounding, hoisting, drilling, 3hr]
Caveat: Art #72
I couldn’t decide whether to count this as a map I’d drawn, or as art. It’s kind of both, isn’t it? I think I painted this in around 1994… I’m not sure. That was the era of my watercolor phase.
Caveat: Poem #1437 “Brief ode to a future treehouse”
ㅁ The treehouse exists first in imagination but, yes, it takes shape
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #551
This tree tolerates assaults upon its integrity, as a tree house is bootstrapped into place in very tiny steps.
[daily log: walking, 1km; listing, hoisting, pounding, climbing, 3hr]
Caveat: One flower or another
I have some plants flowering in my garden.
That means I can hope for some fruit later on.
Here is a large yellow squash flower and a small purple bean flower.
Here is a small tomato flower.
Caveat: Art #71
I painted this using watercolors around 1998. It is meant to be the traditional monarch’s hall in the city of Piropeta, Jessitim Kingdom, Mahhal.
Caveat: Poem #1436 “I’ll get over it”
ㅁ I've not been in a good mood lately. The sky feels heavy and brooding. Uncles toss profanities. Birds force their cheerfulness. Tomato plants climb. Slugs cross stairways. Dampness dwells. Time stops. Dawn...
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #550
The trees disregard the forest floor.
[daily log: walking 1km; splitting wood 1/2hr]
Caveat: Art #70
I drew this abstract in pastels around 1994 I think.
Caveat: Poem #1435 “Important dialogue”
ㅁ With sun, or without, the birds make their suggestions. All serious talk.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #549
The tree takes risks.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
Caveat: Art #69
I painted this weird iconic dude in around 1997.
Caveat: 7 Years Cancer Free
To the extent than anyone is cancer free, I remain so, seven years after my 2013 surgery. Given an immunological understanding of the nature of cancer, I think most people have cancer most of the time, but the normal functioning of the immune system keeps it at bay. Perhaps all these years, I’d have been more correct to say that I was “tumor free.”
Yay immune system.
Caveat: Poem #1434 “As seas will do”
ㅁ The sea roiled and turned, making baroque contortions, topographic thrusts.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #548
[daily log: walking, 1km; boating, 35mi]
Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+3)
We went out fishing today. Joe and his friend Paul came along.
We intended an early start, but a dead battery in the boat slowed our departure, and we didn’t leave until about 8:30.
The forecast was for “light wind” and “seas 1 ft”. In fact the wind was at least 10 knots, and maybe 15 in the afternoon, and this kicked up the water into 2-4 waves.
First we headed for the northeast corner of San Ignacio Island, and we trolled for salmon. Nothing. From the southwest corner of San Ignacio, we motored southward to the west side of Suemez Island. Trolling there, still no salmon, but a hefty lingcod bit Arthur’s hook off San Jose Point. We also caught some small black bass – most were thrown back but a few were large enough to decide to keep. “It’s a fillet,” is how Joe phrased it.
We trolled some more, across Port Santa Cruz. The swells were wide and slow, about 3 feet, with open ocean to the southwest of us.
Giving up on trolling and salmon, we tried for halibut in the center of Port Santa Cruz. Joe caught one small halibut, and several rock fish. Art caught the bottom with his hook – twice. The second time he got really angry. He was kicking the boat. And when Joe and I tried to help, he yelled at us and was pretty scary. I felt awkward and embarrassed.
Finally, Joe wanted to find another halibut, and we tried bottom fishing in two more spots, one on the northwest corner of Suemez and again back at the north end of San Ignacio. But the wind was picking up and it wasn’t easy keeping the boat still.
We headed home and by the time the boat was cleaned and the fish all cut up and in packages for freezing, it was dinner time.
I’ll make some fish soup tomorrow.
Here is Arthur’s lingcod.
Here is the view toward the south end of Baker Island off the bow, from Port Santa Cruz.
Here is an eagle, looking for handouts (thrown away too-small fish).
Here is the blue sea off San Ignacio Island’s north end.
Here are Arthur and Joe cleaning some fish.
Caveat: Art #68
I drew these cups in pastel in 1993 I think. There is some damage on the left edge.
Caveat: Poem #1433 “The bugs’ intentions”
ㅁ Sometimes the bugs fly and they try to annoy me and well, they succeed.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #547
The tree tries to go with the flow.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
Caveat: Art #67
This cheese grater towers over the skeleton of a small creature. It is like unto a god’s icon. I drew it around 1993.
Caveat: Poem #1432 “Nature sometimes looks back”
ㅁ The bird noticed me. A whirr of wings announced it. The morning warmed up.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #546
This little alder is one foot tall.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
Caveat: Art #66
This ink sketch was done from a photograph in my 1992 art class.
Caveat: Poem #1431 “Twentieth stanza”
ㅁ Not-a-Wolf wielded a sixgun and knife, Lived like he didn't much value his life. Soldiers pursued him through sun and through snow, Never once thinking to just let him go.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. Luc Not-a-Wolf is a character in a story I sometimes work on, which takes place in the imaginary land of Makaska. He is Kiamon’s great-great grandfather.