I don’t know why exactly, possibly driven by the caffeine from the espresso or maybe the loveliness of fresh morning air, but as soon as we turned into our driveway I inexplicably wanted to return and lend a hand. I got out of the car, grabbed a couple of paint brushes and got behind the steering wheel. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw Garv standing in the driveway, holding the basil, peppers and peaches we bought. He looked as confused as I was as to what had just happened.

It was the start of a typical Saturday when Garv said, “If you go to the Farmers’ Market with me, I will treat you to Starbucks”. I don’t share Garv’s enthusiasm for the Farmers’ Market but I wanted to be a good sport so I agreed. And, truth be told, I’d go just about anywhere if it entailed a Mocha! So, we drove over to Starbucks and then to our local Farmers’ Market.

We taste tested our way through the market, chatted with some neighbors and ran into some old acquaintances we once spent a lot of time with when our kids were in school.   We bought some produce and headed back to the car to leave. Just as I was about to get in the car I noticed something very out of place happening in a parking lot behind the local library.

There were people sitting cross legged on drop cloths, surrounded by gallons of paint in front of two white snow plows. Half in and half out of our car I stood there for a while trying to figure out what they were doing. I decided to walk over to inquire.

As I approached, I saw sketches on the bucket of each plow. One was a beach scene with toucans roasting snowmen marshmallows over an open fire. The other was a smash up of minions. One of the women sitting cross legged greeted me. She introduced herself as the artist and a teacher at one of our middle schools. She explained how the local Arts Council had underwritten a grant for two of the city’s plows to be painted every year. The first two plows completed the previous summer survived the winter favorably with little chipping or corrosion. So they were now painting the second pair of plows.

She asked if I would like to help paint. I declined saying I was not an artist. I told her I thought it was a very cool project and thanked her for her creativity and vision. We returned to our car and headed home but my mind fixated on the snowplows.

Continue reading “Snowplow Tao”