Fog in the Hills Blair Pessemier Acrylic/canvas 13 x 30"
Peddling away Blair Pessemier Acrylic/canvas 16 x 12"
End of the Season Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/paper 17 x 25"
Grandmother Blair Pessemier 16 x 12"
Zinnias in Fall Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/paper 25 x 17"
Butterflies on Gold Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/paper 25 x 17"
Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/paper 25 x 17"
The New Dish Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/paper 17 x 25"
We went out to lunch with a friend yesterday, at Il Faro (the
Lighthouse) restaurant up in the Sassi National Park not far (1 mile) from our
house. Although the building is a box,
the situation is a bit like a lighthouse, hanging from the edge of the hill,
overlooking the park. It has a
spectacular view, which we’ve painted numerous times. It is most interesting when the lower levels
fill with fog, and it is like looking over a large, white sea. Only the great “Sassi” (rocks) protrude, and
the highest mountains in the distance.
Harika didn’t come, not that she’s
poorly behaved, but she isn’t really welcoming to other dogs, especially the
larger varieties. After a drive over to
the historic Pieve di Trebbio, a 10th century church, we came home
to let her out.
30 minutes after she was out the
door, she staggered, crying up the stairs. I sprang from my chair just as she
started careening around the house on three legs. I caught her.
Her front paw seemed broken. Her
heart was beating wildly: was she having a heart attack? No, wrong side, and I am not sure it works
that way with dogs anyhow. She dropped
into a stupor as we drove off.
There is something about the smell
of the vet that makes a dog immediately improve. Although she could not stand on that leg, she
could muster her comportment. First we
described what she’d eaten that day “beef heart”; “you make that for her?” the
doctor asked, smiling. After the
introductions, we got down to the physical bits. “It’s the wrist,” the vet announced, “she’ll
need an xray”. We were shuffled to the
waiting room and Harika led away on leash.
“She’s walking,” I cried; Blair groused
about the price.
In the waiting room, the doorbell
rang. It was a couple with a giant blue
Macaw. “She’s only four months old,”
they cooed, as they tried to find a shelf strong enough to support the
cage. Then they got out the pictures to
show her being fed a cheerio by their son, 2.
“She’s so gentle.” By now Harika
was with us again, eyeing the bird with great suspicion as we awaited results.
The Vet clinic specialized in
exotic animals. I tell them Harika has
lived on three continents. The clinic
treats turtles – there are a half dozen outside. And surgery on snakes and birds.
“It’s not broken,” the vet
announced. She thought it likely Harika’s
leg fell into a hole while running around the yard. They gave her a blood test, with immediate
results (like a young dog!). Now Harika
is on bedrest and anti-inflammatories.
We’ve begun preparation for the art exhibit at our house in
Rocca Malatina next Sunday. We’ve added
our own pictures to the main entry room, and all the way up the stairs to the
tower. The music room will become the “works on paper”
gallery. The Art Show is in conjunction
with the Festa della Castagna (the chestnut festival).
