Tired of messing around with the roses. Can't make them be anything but what they are, anyway. I added the little bird, and it gave me some ideas about future paintings, of doing a big one of all those little glass birds that live in the glass case in the back living room, the ones that I never pay any attention to. They are actually rather precious, as all are gifts, most from my adorable son, who gave me another one for Mother's Day. And, on that note, let me say what wonderful people my children have become. They both felt exactly as I did about the demise of Osama, sad and appalled at the revelry. Never a moment to cheer the death of another human being, even one as misguided as this one. I am so pleased that they, too, feel the rip in the fabric of our existence here, that we are all connected in a great cosmic web and need to honor that so we don't become what this man did. Okay, way off subject of kind of ordinary little work here, but, gee, this is my blog and my opinions, so everyone should get over it.
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