Busy Breaking the Mule

I love summer in Wisconsin. I’m just so glad to see summer here, the trees leafed out and hearing the May peeps, well I just feel like dancing. When summer is so luscious it’s hard to remember the winter with its needs and whine inducing cold. I saw a quote by the ancient Greek poet, Hesiod, that encouraged having a plan when summer was not here, and frankly I have the same feeling! “It will not always be summer; build barns.”

Which is why I have several projects on my plate. I’m working on multiple paintings of my own for the gallery, planning a few retail art fairs, working on restoring several old paintings and, in spite of my schizophrenic schedule, have also been writing again.

My poetry writing has suffered for lack of contemplative time this past year but I recently bought a book of Tang Poems and have been so inspired I’m trying to spend some time every few days to write. You can see my chapbook of poetry called ‘Firefly Finger Rings’ at the gallery. I’ve included one poem in this blog that seems to fit the quote by Hesiod.

Speaking of building barns i.e. making room for my harvest, we’ve expanded the Wearable Art section of the gallery. We just got back from a show in St. Paul where I bought some gorgeous hand painted silk tops and beautiful tunics and dresses plus a couple new lines for fall/winter that will start arriving this month.

Gotta run. My muse is calling.

I’ll see you soon!


 

Breaking The Mule

“Why do I do it?” is the question I ask myself.

Maybe it’s the Missouri Ozark  hillbilly in me.

That overwhelming urge to jump a stump

which causes this impulse to throw my head back

and howl like a coon hound,

dig nightcrawlers by the light of a full moon,

plant rhubarb in February and

keep a turtle in my basement.


But I tell you that when I wake up

to the cool of the morning

and feel his warmth still here,

see these prairie blue skies,

hear the church bells ring

the news that the witch is dead,

I throw my leg over the

bucking mule of my day

and hang on for dear life.

 By: Esa Everroad
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