When I was in early grade school, February and March were times of drawing pussy willows, of putting them in vases, of looking at their greyness. They were dull months. One positive factor, though, was that since I am not a good drawer, pussy willows were within my scope. Draw a line and put little blobbie things alternately on the sides. The bare trees of winter were easily done as well, but they were also dull. I have one that I drew from back then. It was on a calendar I made for my father for Christmas – the teacher gave us little a very small pad of the months to glue on the bottom of the drawing. My mother found it in my dad’s desk after he died. All those years – he kept that dull, unattractive drawing on purplish paper. When I first saw it, I wanted to tell him I was so sorry I drew so badly.
I don’t think of pussy willows or winter trees too often, but I saw a picture of a pussy willow today and I don’t like them even when they are really well photographed in their glory. I suppose they have some admirers – probably minimalists. But then maybe minimalists only look at them a minimal amount of time.