poor petunias

My poor petunias were wearing a sparkle layer of thick frost this morning when I woke in a cloud surrounded by dense cold wet heavy grey.  Snow is blowing sideways, a fire crackles in my studio, the new log lies in wait…

And wait it must.

Computer ailments and my sputtering truck, both fresh from their respective doctors are still in need of more expert care – so despite the pull of the new sculpture and the creative ideas screeching like playful monkeys in my head I must bundle up, head over the mountain pass in a snowstorm and take care of the truck and computer first.