Day twenty: a wreath of weeds and brambles

She used some of the weeds and brambles she'd pulled from the garden to make an autumn wreath. +   +   +

Day nineteen: a Great Pumpkin on a full moonlit night

Day nineteen: a Great Pumpkin on a full moonlit night +   +   +

Day eighteen: A great old iron key or handle

Day eighteen: A great old iron key or handle was in the garden where she was digging up weeds to plant bulbs for the Spring. She determined to find out what it fitted in, if it was indeed part of the house. . #Inktober2018 #Inktoberday18 #ink #drawing #illustration #storytelling #inktober #key #skeletonkey #mystery

Day seventeen: a dinghy waited on the shore

Day seventeen: The dinghy had been dragged up on the shore and left there. No one knew to whom it belonged. +   +   +

Day sixteen: leaf and acorn at the end of season

I realized almost immediately after inking this that my leaf and acorn are troublesome, as the leaf is of the Maple sort, and acorns are of Oaks, but I inked it this evening without any thought and then it was too late. Anyway, it's a seasonal little drawing, and I'm once again a day behind,… Continue reading Day sixteen: leaf and acorn at the end of season

Day fifteen: the rescue of a late-born minnow

Day fifteen: The Stevedore rescued a late-season minnow, too young to live through the frozen waters of winter. It was just before the first frost, so he took it home, with plans to release it in the spring. +   +   +

Day fourteen: a mask made of stag horns

Day fourteen: A subsequent find from the potting shed was this mask made of a rack of stag horns. The eyeholes carved out of the skull’s forehead lent it an air of menace. +   +   +

Day thirteen: a mechanical toy served as a bookend

Day thirteen: On a bookshelf in the guest room, a funny sort of mechanical clown toy happily took on the task of serving as a bookend. +   +   +

Day twelve: A preview of Winter when the first wind arrived, bringing leaves down

Day twelve: They felt a preview of Winter when the first wind arrived, bringing leaves down. Seasons no longer followed the rules they'd known all their lives. +   +   +

Day eleven: three crows perched in a tree

+   +   + After I posted this (elsewhere), a friend quoted the Wallace Stevens poem, "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," to wit— II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. So now I rather look at these guys as blackbirds. Enjoy the poem.