She's An Artist RingThe day smells like snow, the soft roll of cloud quieting the birds, wood fire smoke in the air filling you with anticipation. The studio feels like a hothouse, ferns and anthuriums everywhere, elephant ears and fiddle fig trees snug among pots of paint, the battered easel. Your grandmothers prisms on the windowsill, a geodesic dome in pastels. Leonard Cohen on the record player, crooning to the bowl of tropical fish, their scales a symphony of color,