The front yard looks like a Bev Doolittle painting.
You know…the red ground, the pock-marked snow fading in places to a sort of white stippling, the bare trees…I feel like if I could just tilt my head to the right angle and squint, something would pop out. Probably Indians on horseback if this is really a Bev Doolittle painting, but given that it’s my yard, it’s more like to be hamsters or samurai chickens or something.
I’d do the painting myself, just by way of gentle satire–I really liked Bev Doolittle as a kid, and I gotta say, they take a LOT more work than just a visual joke–but I think I should probably work on Batbreath first, and by the time I’m done with that, the snow will be a distant memory and I’ll be swatting mosquitoes instead.
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