Headed into town, despite deep snow, after digging the truck out again, after an almost impossible trek down the hill. Made it about halfway out Mackletree when a red sedan, completely out of control, spun into my lane and I had to ditch, literally, off to the left. I sat there, stunned, until Booby's wife Diane, came creeping along, went back to her house and got Booby. He came down with his tractor, I had a logging chain, and finally got my back wheels on the ground so I could get out in 4-wheel low. Covered in snow, with frozen feet, I had to turn around and get back home. Two hours to go five miles. The climb back up the hill, was so awful, wet, frozen feet, I had to laugh. Stoked the fire, heated water to soak my feet, dried off, changed into dry clothes, made a hot toddy, sat in a rocking chair next to the stove. A robin, looking really out of place, pecking a sumac head. Back to the printing book. Light snow on and off through the afternoon. Must get in tomorrow. D calls with an update, what he got done (he lives right on a primary road and always gets plowed first) and what I need to get done. The show will open Friday, but there still will be some things to do. I'll go in Saturday and Monday to do a major floor cleaning and probably touch up painting. Fortunately, it's a big, bright, 3-D show, and when it's lit, you won't notice anything but the pieces. I can obsess about detail for a day or two after opening. And the opening party is a week away, good planning on someone's part, though probably, more a question of when the artist was available. Shows are booked sometimes years ahead, individual people, with their varied lives, are harder to book. I was thinking about the frogs today, how difficult it would be to actually record, sight and sound, that amazing fuck-fest that starts the season. It always wakes me from deep sleep, and I know what it is right away, the frogs are back, I throw on an outfit, grab a flashlight, my foam seat, roll a smoke, get outside, and watch. I'm surprised National Geographic hasn't done something with this.
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