Chestnut Hill Cafe, Sunday morning
My 16 year old son, Gabe, participates in the youth group at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Lancaster, and I had to deliver him there at 8:00 o'clock this morning, because the high school students were presenting the service and he was to usher, play guitar, and share some of his personal reflections with the congregation. I had nearly two hours to occupy. There is a hip little neighborhood cafe in an old brick building just across the street from the church, so I got a cup of coffee and drew what was in front of me, looking down the service aisle towards the front window and entry as people moved about on both sides of the counter on a busy Sunday morning at Chestnut Hill Cafe.
I spent the afternoon in the studio working in AutoCAD on the Glasgow series, designing idealized cooking hearths to demonstrate the series to designers. Getting proportions just right. Quiet, intense work. I'd about had it for one day, so I loaded my Talbert billiard (yes I only have one) with an impossible to obtain tobacco blend called Krumble Kake from Smokers Haven and lighted up for what I'd hoped would be a relaxing smoke. But the stuffed crow, usually hanging silently from the arm of one of the sconces over my computer worktable, woke up to have a closer look. It must have been the combination of this diabolical weed and the aura of Trever, some spectral echo of his macabre imagination radiating out of the briar that animated it . . . DAMN, those talons hurt!