Dave's Sketch Journal

Drawing is taking a line for a walk. - Paul Klee

forcast: thunder & lightening

breakfast alone
Thunder followed closely by lightening was the essay of the day. There were commas of sunshine. But the rain was mostly a run-on sentence of jail time in my apartment.

Yet it amazes me what people can accomplish in the rain. I saw a man on a moped carrying four large jugs of water. He drove through the courtyard below in a crimson poncho draped over his handlebars. Another lady was delivering a hot meal on a tray in the pouring rain. It was so fierce out there I didn't even want to get close to the window.

hung out to dry
Ruth and Joanne took a flight to Lijiang to do a little shopping in the old town. (Click on the link for a glimpse of our previous visit to that beautiful, if a bit touristy, town.)

So that explains the lone breakfast I made for myself: three farm fresh eggs with Jack cheese, toasted homemade bread with blackberry jam, garden fresh tomatoes lightly fried in a sauce pan with salt and pepper, and of course coffee.

I also promised to look after the laundry while the girls were gone. We have a washer/dryer but the dryer takes forever and sucks juice big time. So we have a rack that we can place near the sunny window. Except that today, the sun wasn't working for me. Anyway it was a chance to sketch while I watched clothes dry.

thunder night
At about 7:00 pm the rain stopped enough for me to get out. I walked around and watched the old folks gather around a wooden table and chat about the day. I saw grandpa and his granddaughter jumping and running around the courtyard. I heard crickets from the ponds and fountains in the pavilion. I sat and read and wrote for a few brief moments.

By 7:30 pm the rain was back. Thunder slapped at the buildings so hard, the mopeds complained with shrieks from their alarms.

I took cover back in the apartment and heated up some eggplant parmesan still left over in the fridge and watched Capitalism: A Love Story by Michael Moore.

Forgiveness means giving up on changing the past. - The Journal Keeper

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