One of the awesome poetry writers at our West Side Gang group is Betsy, owner of the Icelandic Sheep.
She also supplies us with fresh farm eggs, which we buy from her as needed.
A couple of weeks ago, one of our artsy members decided to paint a bowl full of Betsy's eggs. Linda's painting is awesome. She's a good painter too. Here's her picture, used with permission
This week, I bought a dozen of Betsy's Eggs myself and decided I'd get artsy too, before we ate the still life.
First I had to find my wooden bowl, then arrange the eggs in some sort of balanced array. That was harder than I expected.
Then I started drawing them. Paint is not my medium- haven't done it in years, and wasn't that good at it even when I was practicing. I'm better with pencil and pen. Here's the thing about me and art. I have no patience left for it. I'm slow and I don't want to be, and I don't take the time to get things as good as they should be.
Nevertheless, I wanted to draw those eggs, doggone it, so I did.
With Betsy's poems of farm life and art work of her eggs, someone should make a book. Maybe someone will.
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