Vladimir Putin and Peg: Part II
Remember my friend Peg, the modern day pioneer woman with a crow named Vladimir Putin? If you missed the post, read it here. It is currently the most popular post I've ever published and is responsible for lots of new subscribers. (Hello!)
Peg adopted Vladimir Putin as a baby last spring and spent last summer and fall spoiling him. You can see from the photo collage (above) that poor Peg cannot get through a paragraph of Elizabeth Gilbert's most excellent novel A Signature of All Things without Vladimir vying for attention. Maybe he too wanted to read about Alma and her quim. (Look it up.)
A few months ago when Renn and I showed up at Peg's for the photo shoot, we found Peg in the yard, exclaiming happily that Vladimir Putin had returned from a winter spent out in the wild. You see, Vladimir, like all children eventually do, flew the coop last fall. Then, like all children do, Vladimir returned -- hungry and squawking. Peg, like all mothers do, recognized her baby's cries even from the distance of a high tree branch, and immediately set about with a song in her heart, preparing Vladimir's favorite meal.
Can we continue with this metaphor, you ask? Sadly, yes. Because like many a son I have known, Vlad took his mother's food, gobbled it up with gusto, then skedaddled with nary a "Thanks, Mom!" Vlad, that ungrateful stinker, refused Peg the pleasure of stroking his tail feathers or tickling his gnarly feet. There Peg sits, ears pricked for Vlad's beloved caws and mothers everywhere shake their heads in sympathy.
Below are videos of Vladimir from last summer. In the second video, he knows that Peg just hid a box of popsicles under the blanket and he will not stop complaining until he gets one. Such a toddler!
Get the Peg O'Malley Look?
Peg's husband Peter raised a skeptical eyebrow when I told him I was curating a Peg O'Malley-inspired shop. I suppose when one is surrounded on a daily basis with the splendor of Peg's treasures, one can get jaded.
Beloved Wisconsin artist Max Fernekes (1905-1984) depicted these two crows with dry point etching on copper. Maybe a distant relative of Vlad? Click on photo for shopping details.
I wish I could offer Inuit moccasins made of spit-softened leather but here's what I've got: a geometric wall hanging in vibrant wool yarn and a southwestern-style hand carved two- faced owl. Click on the photo for shopping details.
Who knows why miniature Black Forest bears gathered around a tiny pewter stein remind me of Peg. But they are hand-carved, antique, and their wee glass eyes are beady like Vlad's. Click on photo for shopping details.
A gold foil paper cut scene that evokes the idyllic harmony of man and nature which might not really exist anymore except at Peg's. Click on photo for shopping details.
This cuckoo clock is the more affordable version of the stunner that Peter surprised everyone with on a Christmas morning years ago. Click on the photo for shopping details.
Peg has a butterfly specimen on her collage wall. I haven't asked her yet but I would not be surprised if she caught it, preserved it, and mounted it all herself. Click on photo for shopping details.
Photos by myself, Renn Kuhnen, and Peg O'Malley.