I sat down to write about the post Christmas quiet and its accompanying melancholy when RED flashed in front of me.  My heart skipped a beat as I watched a cardinal alight on the deck railing outside of my studio, a surprise visitor on a gray, dreary afternoon. He was not alone, but  joined by what I imagined to be his family–male and female–all skittering around the slick, leaf-covered deck foraging for food.  Delighted, I stepped outside to take a picture, when as if on cue, they all flew away. Of course I knew better! Magical moments like these must be savored, experienced, not captured, neatly snapped up in a photograph.
Cardinals are not uncommon in Austin, but it is rare to see one in our yard.  “It must be a sign” I thought, that this extraordinarily ordinary visitor appeared exactly when I needed such a boon. Earlier this morning I had been “seeing red” in another way, angry over some hurtful comments someone made about me. It is my “cardinal sin” to ruminate and obsess over such things, about which I have no control.  The cardinals are gone now, flown off to some other yard in the neighborhood, but red is on my mind. Not the angry kind, but that which is associated with passion, life-force, the blood of creation.

As an artist I stay alert for inspiration and it usually comes in unpredictable, surprising ways, like the sight of a cardinal on the deck on a winter’s morning.

Flashes of red flutter away,
the rain washed deck bears witness to the scene,
sodden leaves mingled with sticks and acorns,
a welcome feast for unexpected visitors.