I am aghast.
An artist’s dog should know that there are many things you may chew but pencils, pencils are utterly unforgivable.
What were you thinking Bonnie?
Still I found a new one to draw about it tonight.
One of our chicks has discovered if she flies (yes she can fly) up on top of her house, she can squeeze through the hole in the chicken wire and off to freedom. I have never moved as quick as I did today to beat the dog up the garden to catch her.
When your latest dye job takes a bit better than you imagined it would. Move over Marge Simpson…
Sicily is hot at the moment and very humid. I’m currently dripping over my sketchbook under a tree in thirty five degree heat.
Hair is looking like it too.
There’s been no signal here for the last few days as a quite severe hill fire started on the parched hill above our campsite.
We’ve been woken up to a very impressive fire plane gathering water from the bay and swooping dangerously low amongst the jagged ridges of the hill to offload its water. Most spectacular indeed especially of a night when the fire appears like bright orange tendrils against the dark silouette of the hill.
I feel quote conspicuous as the palest female in the site but I seem to have developed a small army of freckles to break up the ofending white bits.