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Frank Prewitt

Copyright 2013 by Frank Prewitt

Smashwords Edition

My wife is an artist. She signs her work V Rae, but most people call her V. She’s not just any artist. Her art makes people cry - and sigh - and laugh - and hug. It didn’t start out that way. She used to paint little flowers. Nice ones. Precise little pedals with leaves and lots of color, like in a garden, or pot. But they didn’t make people cry - or sigh - or hug. That began with a moose.

V spotted her in early Fall, casually munching her way up a pathway to the studio. She was nice looking (as moose go) and took great care selecting a window framed in seasonally appropriate colors to express her not-so-subtle intent to commission a portrait. V snapped a few pictures and invited her to discuss the presentation over tea and a ripe pumpkin she’d been eyeing. The moose introduced herself as Indian Summer and engaged V in lively conversation about composition, color tension and her love of negative space. A day later Indian Summer friended V on Facebook and it’s been bff since.

V’s always had a special connection with wildlife, and demurs to Snow White one-liners with grace and a smile. Really! If a tiny bird knocks itself senseless on a window pane, V sweeps out, kneels, cups her hands, gently places the Google Maps challenged avian in a brass cage infirmary and commences holistic therapies until full recovery. Fur, fin or feathers, if a creature needs a meal, lodging, first aid, a bit of love, or just quiet conversation, drop by the studio and Snow V is at your service; and they do.

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