One Rough Week.
(Or two weeks. See Post Script). Inkbeard Posts #004
Inktober Continues
As those interested know, Inktober is still ongoing. (In fact I believe it lasts the whole month). This week was a busy one, and therefor I missed a couple of days in drawing, specifically #9-11. This is due to a family activity that I will get to later in the post. Another effect of the business of this week, My drawings were not as spectacular as the former two weeks, and since there were fewer than should be, I will only post the best. For this drawing, I decided to use different paper than my A3 heavy and smooth Bristol paper, and opted for the much thinner yet slightly smaller alcohol marker paper, which fits my scanner much better. The prompt was “Hike”, and since I did not feel like drawing scenery, I decided to go with an albeit brilliant of posting the word on a sign. Sam is a notoriously poor map reader, and is also possessive of the steering wheal, so that he would rather be knocked unconscious than give up the driver’s seat. (he is also stubborn, which adds its own delicious drama and humor).
Grouse Hunting (or, the great distraction).
The reason for missing three whole days of Inktober is the family tradition of grouse hunting. There will be some reading who detest the killing and eating of grouse or any variety of animal, and to those people I say “that’s nice, dearie”. This is not a blog on which I rant about anything, and therefor I shan’t here.
Every year in October the majority of my family on my father’s side pack up the blaze orange, snacks, and shotguns, and trundle north past Orr Minnesota, a small town with a population of 211, a repurposed high school, and only 1.5 gas stations. (One of them is remarkably small). The method of grouse hunting is simple and often boring for those not invested heavily in the flavor of bland ground chicken: a group of cousins and/or uncles (the wives usually prefer to remain at home in their warm chairs with the youngest cousins) load up into one of a myriad of pickups, trucks and SUVs and go troll the side trails and gravel roads of highway 53, hoping to happen upon an unsuspecting grouse.
The colors of fall have by now touched the aspens and birches and maples of the north, leaving the pines and spruces as green as ever, and creating the beautiful effect of Autumn (which has an M). Every now and then snow will be on the ground outside the communal 20-person tent. As one can imagine, the weather of northern Minnesota is deliciously chilly, and flannel and campfires are a regular staple. This is one of my favorite things to do, to drive north and be with my cousins and uncles, a lot of rowdy and boisterous humour and bursting with brotherly love. Not so much the hunting and subsequent cleaning of the grouse, a chore I find nauseating and indeed disheartening. (God gave me a tender heart, which, while all well and good when it comes to watching movies and petting puppies, tends to trip one up in the nastier businesses).
Wind.
Wind is a thing that blows things, be they leaves, helicopters (of the maple seed variety), or other such seeds. Outside it is a windy October day, one perfect for ripping through layers and penetrating one’s skin with ice. I hope and pray it will also carry you, dear readers, to the four corners of the world, bearing the good news of Inkbeard and his fantastic website. I hope To eek out the few yet stubborn remaining hiccups in the design of this website; things like the menu bar on the mobile orientation and the lack of newsletter emails going to all of you. I am still unsure of how to fix these things, and reaching my techsupport (A.K.A. my uncle), is a time-consuming thing.
Farewell to all, dear readers, and may the wind carry you where it may. A safe and forgiving week I hope you find in your path.
Post Script
Due to unforeseen procrastination and the death of a great-grandfather, I was unable to get this post up in time. It is now over two weeks since my last post, and I intend to rectify that discrepancy. However, I am unable to change the past, and so the best I can do is apologize (I’m sorry). Next week I will post all of the art from the last days of Inktober, thereby finishing this accursed undertaking. My thanks to all this patient readers whom I am sure don’t yet exist.
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