A comment from a friend on the White Raven series:
…the sense of blood and freshly frozen death that I feel fuels the bright bitter triumph, reaches for the promise of warmth in the yellow star as sun-seed, and wants to speak through the pink and mauve of the pinions.
Put another way: imagine the painting on the ground at midnight, a dead, dessicated white bird caught in a pool of ice, the moon reflecting just so an inch beyond its beak.
There is something so beautiful about the fragility of a dandelion that has gone to seed. Before someone has blown away the puff, or the wind or a passing creature has exploded all those little messengers out into the world, there is a delicate beauty about it that has never faded for me. Often when we say something has “gone to seed” we mean that it has been wasted; a crop that was not harvested. I often pass through “seedy” neighbourhoods in my regular routes through the city when I have errands to run. You can tell because the roads aren’t maintained by the city, the zoning is confused, there’s trash on the sidewalks and in the streets. The homeless -or otherwise unoccupied due to being unemployable, or struggling with addiction or mental illness- are common. It’s the poorest of the poor in these neighbourhoods.
But if you look past the surface you see something wonderful. There’s love, friendship, hope, and definitely determination. There are families with children who will grow and take the lessons of their youth with them, for good or ill, but we pray for the good. There’s beauty everywhere, even when we feel hard pressed to find it.
Dandelions everywhere…and we call them weeds.
This is a portrait of Zsu Zsi, a bulldog who owns my friend Jackie. A labor of love and friendship, and worth every moment of it. She reclines in the valley, Terwilliger Dog Park, to be exact. Like Cleopatra, she watches her kingdom by the banks of a slowly meandering river.