Sunday, May 31, 2015


Grande vente de garage at Parc Ile Saint Quentin yesterday.

 What I found:


a leather-boot keychain, for 25 cents

A lovely green stone necklace, 50 cents

   Two pen holders and 6 drawing nibs (new!!), $1

A black and gold-colored metal wildcat pin, $2

Artwork made from pressed flowers, herbs and seeds
from Quebec artist/botanist Julie Corbeil,
signed and framed,  $4

(This photo doesn't do it justice.)

A little hand-carved wooden figure by
sculptor Robert Jean, of Saint-Jean-Port-Jolie, $1

When I brought him home, I put him next to another carved wooden figure
that I got some years ago that's actually an incense holder.
They seem to be getting along just fine together.

I was not so sure, however, about Francis and François.
Francis is a wooden deer with broken antlers, carved from driftwood, gotten in Vermont.


This carved horse, now called  François, was sitting on a table
 at the garage sale,  ignored by all the passersby.
He reminded me a bit of Francis.  I, too, passed him by -
but then went back.  Something about those eyes. 

His backside includes this gaping hole
that resembles a mouth, howling.

Here's an imaginary (photographic) intro between the two sculptures
as they size each other up.

"Hello, who's this you've brought home with you?"

May I present François, I said,
emphasizing his finer-sculpted points.

Francis checks him out.

No comment.

 François waits.

I'm taller than you, Francis thinks.

You can join me in sentinel duty at the window,
he says, authoritatively.

Because photographers can manipulate perception,
here it would seem they are the same height
and Francis appears more friendly.

As in all contrived, anthropomorphic stories,
a happy ending trumps a not so happy one.

 I truly do not know if Francis and François will get along,
or if the perpetually smiling wooden man won't occasionally
feel like frowning --  but in our world, inanimate objects
don't speak or feel, and so can't really tell us.

And yet they do, when imagination takes over,
giving a tiny, decorative clunk of metal
one pins on a garment, to "accessorize",
the ability to leap, to dream.

"Can I go now?"