Ken's new bureau is finally finished. It was specifically designed to fit our computer area in our home but after moving the object in from his shop, we decided that the piece got too cramped and lost. I felt it needed more visibility for this fine art furniture and so we moved it to the front room. Speaking of place, below is a larva or monsoma pulveratum, the sawfly; new and recent discoveries have been significant on this insect. Ken also writes and publishes scientific information for the Forest Service and his photographs of his field work are often included in pamphlets, booklets and scientific journals.
Last evening, I caught a glimpse of Ken, my husband and partner of close to ten years. As I was standing in our dining room, I saw his head from outside the front window of our door, perfectly framed and peeking out to me. He was fully engaged hanging with our dog Blue not knowing I was looking at him. It was at that point I saw how handsome he was. And within that distance, that moment, I realised that I had forgotten him. At the same time a fresh picture of someone I knew so well became outstanding. Perhaps we lose sight of each other; perhaps we get too close and they become too familiar.
Great impressionist painters painted these glimpses of fleeting images, these instants of lost time. These moments are magical and cogent realizations of what we take for granted.
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