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Schofield & Krummeck – Baltimore Ekphrasis Project

Bob Schofield and Judith Krummeck traded art and words. Bob shared this drawing, entitled “The Sky is No Longer Where I Left It,” with Judith:TheSkyIsNoLongerWhereILeftIt_BobSchofield
In response, Judith wrote this piece:

My Bellwether

Was it you clattering so loudly one November morning? You startled me. When I looked
out of the bathroom window, I couldn’t believe that someone so small could make such a
racket, darting from one side to the other, and landing each time with a clatter on the shutter-dogs. Perhaps it was you who careened headlong into the glass door that day, lying stunned, and having to be gently coaxed back on your feet so that you could go off on your merry way again. I’m sure it’s you who calls the first “all clear!” to let me know, before I can tell, that the rain is winding down, and I won’t need to take my umbrella after all. I worry about you in the snow, when everything is so hushed and still, and there’s no sign of life. I wonder where you are keeping safe and warm as I cozy up to a fire inside. When you and your friends venture out again, busily checking to see what the snow has left behind, then you all, with one breath, flee in unison, I look to see what has alarmed the collective you, but it’s a mystery. As you trickle back, one by one, to go about your business again, I can relax, knowing that all is right with the world. And now, oh now, with the first hint of warmth on the wind, you will begin to feel the pulse. You will be dapper, and buttoned up, and bright eyed, and sprightly, and you will sway precariously on the very tip of the lowest branch of the blossoming dogwood tree to be a full-throated herald of the spring.

* * * * *

Judith shared this story with Bob:

A Fancy

On this day, this autumn day in March, my friend is imagining a new addition to her
garden. I don’t know where this new garden would materialize, but I picture her picturing the tangle of roses by the front door, the squared off herb garden around the side, the scented bushes of yesterday-today-and-tomorrow by the back porch, the bignonia and bougainvillea pouring over the stone wall in the front. She has daydreamed of this new garden for months and, with no perceptible signs of organization, she will gradually coax it into reality. This garden will not be the only thing on her mind. With no perceptible signs of organization, a meal will also be materializing. It will be succulent with olive oil. There may be fish or quinoa, and there will definitely be an assortment of vegetables, probably roasted. There will be other, surprising elements to the meal that I can’t imagine because only she could dream them up. She will serve up in the kitchen at the long, narrow table with the brightly colored cotton cloth, and everyone will just help themselves with mismatched knives and forks on mismatched plates. Because the nights are getting cooler now, my friend and her husband and their daughter will carry their plates into the living room to sit in the capacious armchairs by the fire. She will talk, in her light, husky voice, her conversation drifting from one topic to another and, with no
perceptible signs of organization, she will keep track of the others’ thoughts and dreams and wishes. Then, although it is the middle of the afternoon in my life, in my friend’s life it will be time to get ready for bed. She will sleep and dream while daydreaming across hemispheres.

In response, Bob made this image, entitled “Space Garden”:

Space Garden_BobSchofield

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