A thin, blue light is smudged against a black sky over the mountain behind the house right now, and our rooster has begun crowing his frustration at the dawn, that his owners will not let him out for a few hours yet, to grace the entire property with those fine proud breast feathers of his. I should be deeply engaged in the sacrament of sleep, but instead I'm obsessing on the world's most inconsequential graphic design issue. Or, the floorflusher in this photograph from the 1920s is haunting me this early morning.
Isn't she just the berries?
I posted her yesterday in a different incarnation, having played around in Photo Studio and placed a kind of skipping-rope chant within the photograph. It was pretty in Photo Studio, but I hardly gave the effort enough time, and something about the embedded text further muddied the clarity of the old photo after the Blogger upload. It also seemed to have made it impossible to click on the photograph within Blogger, to get a bigger, clearer image.
She's here because of her attitude, her perfect symmetry and lines -- I felt compelled to contribute whatever I could, to extending this one moment in her life into eternity. I think she loves the idea, but also that she's insisting on a "do-over." What you see now, I do sincerely hope.
Whatever your name is, beautiful girl, your star is still shining in Brumley Gap. But if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep.