Jay as a Phoenix

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.----Emily Dickinson

Getty rabbits

Elephant sketch

evening sketch

a young oak

This morning I read that parents of left-handed children should teach them to turn the page sideways to the right, and learn to write, top to bottom.

I tried it and could see the advantages. Being left handed, I couldn't see what I'd written on the left as it was under my hand and so it was always difficult to judge how to write in a straight line, not uphill or downhill. Ah, well!

coffee at Busters and a sketch of a young oak.