Strange dreams and hawks with colored wings.

A hawk in the sky, never wondering why.

A hawk in the sky, never wondering why.

 

Another day, and another colored page. I got this little notebook of watercolor paper last Saturday. Each day since I’ve filled a page with a drawing and color. There are 15 sheets total in the book. You can do that math pretty easily.  Not too long and I’ll be heading back for more blank pages. I always do.
It’s been mostly raptors since I finished my warbler collection.
 I’ll tell you something honest. I haven’t slept right since I finished the Chestnut-sided Warbler some weeks back.
The way I see the drawings is like this: The warblers were a bright colorful poem, while the raptors are a lone song blowing over the prairie.
Maybe that shift is why my dreams have been so strange? Silliness, because it’s not like if I draw a Virginia’s Warbler tonight my dreams will be sweet. it’s clearly an unrelated phenomenon, much to my imagination’s dismay. Or as I explain it to myself, rather a larger illustration at work within my mind, the sort that I have no business now trying to pencil onto a page.  As it will draw its self in due time.
Whatever the case, I tell you this, I’d rather draw any sort of thing and give it color whilst having horrid dreams, than to sleep the night through and never bring a page any color at all.
Thank you birds and strange dreams, This is my life and I enjoy it very much.

 

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