The Pollen Paradox

June 9, 2007

Large Size

This is a June of 'o-Seven puddle, wrought out of wry conversation between agricultural lands and shy Canadian shield. Brockville has always produced in me a kind of reflexive, reflective introspection, somehow facilitating the pondering of paradox which must of necessity accompany artmaking. And so despite its role in the apparent death of at least one winged insect, I have often found solace in the filmy yellow that graces this small body of water in a tractor rut. Bring on the brightness of sun and yellow pollen. Bring on another summer of struggle. And if we lose our dignity in the process, so be it: we, too, are only dust.