From an ancient pomegranate tree in the patio of Caruso’s Italian Restaurant in Tucson. I never liked pomegranates until I learned to gently massage the fruit until it was soft and then poke a hole in it to drink the juice without having to spit seeds. Even better is to let it rot on the tree until butterflies cluster on its split and dripping carcass. I have pictures of that, too, but I am tired from a long day of Studio Tour. People dribbled through the gallery all day. Some good contacts, and enough small sales to keep me from dejection. I am very pleased with the way the show looks. I think this is some of my best work. Tomorrow will be good.