700,000,000,000 SHOCKS OF WHEAT

FRANCOIS MILLET, THE GLEANERS
"In this depiction of the rural life of nineteenth century France, we see three female figures gathering the leftovers after the harvest. This practice – known as gleaning – was traditionally part of the natural cycle of the agricultural calendar undertaken by the poor, and was regarded as a right to unwanted leftovers. Although the practice of agricultural gleaning has gradually died away due to a number of historical factors (including industrialisation and the organisation of social welfare for the poor), there are nonetheless still people in the present day that we might understand to be gleaners."

I have this painting in my Dining Area (someday, I hope to have a table to put in my Dining Area), passed down from my Grandfather.
What strikes me about it is the that the faces are faceless, without detail and the shoes have an almost homemade, worn and uncomfortable look. In fact, the trees, roadway, and buildings in the background are more detailed than the three peasants.
They are the few, the many.

In 1857 when it was painted, a critic said it was a representation of the 3 Fates of Poverty. With the current Economic Crisis, I can't help but wonder will there be anything left to glean?

Now, I have a feeling I am about to go on a major rant, but before I do need to introduce and recognize a few new friends....

First there is The Minx, who I actually added a few weeks ago. She's smart. She's wanton. Her Colonial hat is straw. She gets more comments than most of the folks I visit.

Then there is Leslie, an Artist I remember from a long time ago because she showed tender mercy on a fox down in Austin. She's cool. She believes in Magic.

Then we have the Banquet Manager. He's a relatively new blogger, but I can tell he is a real pro @ the Foodservice task and you won't find people any more fun than his kind of people.

Then there is Pietra with the longest name I've ever heard, and
"She's 5 foot ten and she carries a Monkey Wrench
She weighs more by the foot than she does by the inch"
She throws Dylan verses at me. We hit them back and forth like Ping Pong balls. Its like we are blonde on blonde.