Past posts drop farther and farther down the vertical ramp of the blog, disappearing like sidewalk chalk drawings. One critic walks around the drawing, viewing it carefully, as if visiting a gallery or museum, another walks over it, disgusted with art. The sidewalk artist moves up to a clear space of concrete, or draws over yesterday’s washed out drawing, unconcerned that masterpiece is today jettisoned artwork.
During the day, the drawing grows hot, an illuminated manuscript. The artist takes a break, asks for an ice-cycle stick, kicks back on the grass, considers the remaining supply of chalk, eyes the blank concrete spaces up the block.
At night, the drawing cools off. The artist tells a story of a child with a blue cat on concrete.
The Coming of the Toads 
really neat.
Hey, Kiddo! Remember doing these?
whimsical. I like it and I remember doing this and doing it with my kids and grandkids.
Hey, Barb, and where are those chalk drawings now? There is already no sign remaining of Child with Blue Cat on Concrete. I checked this afternoon.
the rain washed them away, but the memories are here to stay. Or perhaps the rain washed them away and they found their way to the clouds where now we can see white elephants, alligators, bears and the beautiful rainbow.
Not to mention the pixels I’ve planted in the Internet cloud.
I like it .
Thx.
The fleeting colour magic appearing on sidewalks. It’s how it is. Delightful drawing.
Today rain came; outside now the air is wet with rain falling. I’ll take a look at what’s left of the sidewalk drawing tomorrow, but probably it will have been washed away. Fleeting, float, swim.
Part of why it’s beautiful. You can’t have a sunset last all day :)
Yes, just so, Endless Summer.