Mixed messages

Our friend Ferron, the itinerant artist, pedaled up last week.

"I've been thinking about you," I told him. "There's a little something I'd like to commission from you."

"And I've been thinking about you," he said. "I'm going to be at Night on White tonight, in the Armory."

Night on White is a gallery walk up and down that street, on the east edge of Old Town, and the Armory, at the corner of Southard, is the home of the Studios of Key West, which provides work space for artists in a variety of media.

I told him about my "commission," and said we'd see him that night.

Well, he hadn't set up in the big downstairs space by the time we were there -- there's exhibition space downstairs, and studios up -- so we went on down to the Harrison Gallery, where we saw some great chickens by Cindy Kulp, then to the Red Ribbon show at the new appraiser's space, then on down toward Moe's . . . .

Nice night. And the next day Ferron pedaled up to tell us he was sorry to miss us, to have a couple glasses of tea and to deliver what I'd asked for: a thick, old shutter slat with one message for afternoons, and another, garnished with plumbago, for every other hour.