If ever there was a campaign for “Milk, it does the body good”

A thousand years ago, when I was a much younger man, I found myself in possession of an issue of Playboy, where I discovered a lovely young woman named Debbie Boostrom.

I was smitten (let’s agree to leave it at that).

I remember sharing my discovery of Ms. Boostrom with some school friends at a hockey rink (where all good Canadian things happen). And at some point, as we admired her physique, I found myself saying aloud:

“Man, can you imagine what she looks like in a bathing suit!”

That my friends chose to remain my friends is a testament to their patience…or possibly to their respective inabilities to make friends.

In any event, I too joined them in shock at the idea that it would be good to alter such loveliness…and especially cover it.

Well, a thousand years later, I find myself in similar shock, but less with nudes than with nature.

Recently, on the way to a hockey game (see what I mean), I took an amazing photograph of a sparrow in a thorn bush.

Given my fascination with nature, my initial inclination is to focus in on the bird, but in this case, I decided to keep the image relatively wide, the bird blending in beautifully with its surroundings.

I was smitten (let’s agree to leave it at that).

As I was discussing the photo with a friend earlier today, I commented that the photo would make a great painting. If I put a wash over it, it might look like something wildlife artist Robert Bateman would paint.

Just assumed Bateman was born on a foggy day

Hunh.

Yet again, I want to take something I smit (that’s a word, right?) for its natural beauty and alter it…even cover it. Such delicate detail and I want to blur the lines.

Maybe this is some deep-seated desire to mar the things I love to spare myself the pain of inevitable rejection…although Ms. Boostrom has reportedly passed on and there must be 439 other sparrows in that ruddy bush.

Perhaps I am a closeted Puritan who believes there is evil in anything that brings pleasure. Nah, my love of hockey and bacon, and my Jabba the Hutt-like lair (and body structure) suggest otherwise.

Or maybe I’ve stumbled onto a hybrid art form.

Yes, you too can Batemanize your family portraits!

I don’t know…maybe I’m just weird. I should go to the rink and think about this some more.