ARTWORLD

Dear Most Noble and Honorable Trust,

My tenure of invisible orbit around this Canvas Planet has been, well...long. I have observed how the artist treats her inhabitants for more than an Earth Century. At first scared for the little humans and animal species suffering whimsy and woes of Mother Earth. years have passed and I have witnessed the mother  children are forever in the evolution of ever changing canvas. When winds of winter whistle across land, beauty fades. Last survivors leave, falling aground in piles of yellow, orange, and red. DEAD. The flowers long. DEAD....under the piles of leaves, raked scattered n' blown n' cycles transient sensations fade to numbing degrees. This mosaic of individual and collaborative foilage crumpled together forms a picture of what is to come. The flowers are back in the ground exposing only harsh thorns, pricking skin just coming cold numbs. And the snow, the beautiful cleansing snow, clears the canvas white. Mother nature the ever suffering artist, she paints the land green n' red n' gold 'til unsatisfied she wipes clean. Her Wintry crevasse carreening casting the world in two, dimensions.  Snow, melt, snow melt, she  reconciles her masterpiece then rips its life away.

Humble humans shovel and plowsnow, sipiipippping hot cocoa these months. While Mother Artist continues her creation, her struggle. At first the beings rejoice heaving snow fellow creatures sledding with dogs. They make light of the cold, building snowmen and women con carrot noses and I's of coal. The younger ones enjoy it most, especially when it hinders school. It seems that winter is rather cool. The artist's nature forces her to use the winds to blow the snow in drifts, covering all the land. The humans hide in homes. Gazing out at the Winter Canvas content to celebrate the coldest season. They sit by the fire and talk and rejoice the season.

Then their pleasure starts to wane, as torrential blizzards keep them away from friends and jobs. Desperately, they attempt to escape house arrest, by digging out cars. They add many layers and become very fat during this time of forced hibernation. Breaking free from the constraints, some of them make use of the snow. They lift themselves, sitting, to the very tops of mountains and slide down on  sticks or boards they fashion out of trees. At the bottom of the mountains, they often increase their joy, by ingesting a sort of bottled spirits that only sadden some. Their roads are icy and often these desperate attempts to free themselves, end tragically. The cars often slide into one another creating mountains blocking the roadways, leaving many without life and the rest wounded bodily and spiritually. There are even occurrences masses of canvas, or snow, sliding down the mountains and burying people. They curse the mountains, they curse the mother, the whimsical dissatisfied artist, but they do not go away. Instead, they search and bring all they can muster to find the frozen and numb.  This love for their fellows is unabashed and unconquered from the mountains to the sea.

They weather the extended fit of depression from their mother Earth every year. These Humans endure the storm for their entire existence. They bring color and life to the desolate canvas. Like the Wreaths they fashion from the few trees that retain their leaves, they are Evergreen. It is this capacity for endurance that bolsters my belief that they do not need to be moved from their Artist. The Resident Artist of the Winds and Weather of Earth has been changing her canvas, her world, for years. She is crazy, but I believe that the species that inhabit her work, are able to endure her change of moods. They thrive on this dynamic environment.  They call the moods seasons, the rhythm of life. When the Canvas is cleared it is the beauty of these humans that survives.

I do believe that if the Trust were to interfere and place them on a less volatile planet, they would die out. These Humans have become accustomed to life on Earth and it would be a grave mistake to move them, they could suffer withdrawal similar to the species removed from Jonutar. No one wants that to happen again. The Trust has just now recovered from the financial failure  of that travesty and has begun to receive lucrative backers throughout many galaxies. It is the opinion of this Planetary Agent, that two travesties of that nature in the small span of five hundred years, could bankrupt our beloved and most noble company, we could even lose our trust. While the Artist remains a small threat with her ravaging seasonal swings, she is still the safer guardian of these Humans. After all She still creates impressive work, using her Earth and moon she creates captivating views for the Trusts Planetary tours.

Therefore, my recommendation, my plea, is continued cooperative habitation and creation. It is only when the moods of our patrons turn to darkness that the planet, canvas, will be inhospitable for the humans. Who will either have died out, or already moved away to another artist's studio. Hoping this has satisfied the literary guidelines of enlightened planetary survey and has provided a clear view of the situation of Canvas Earth, I must conclude.



Most Sincerely,

Zimulous Exmonbios

Senior Agent of the Milky Way Art District.