This started as a goofy doodle of a dog with a grotesquely deformed (that's my favorite kind of deformed) foot while I was on the phone with my dad who is currently having foot issues. The dog also has a massive burrito, which wasn't related to anything in the conversation and if pressed I would have to admit that I prefer tacos to burritos even though sometimes the shell cuts the roof of my mouth. I'll write more about my recurring giant foods in another post at some point, once I figure it out a little more. 
So I have my sad dog and nasty foot and gargantuan burrito and start tossing trees in the background. Not realistic trees (since I can look out my window and see those), but the trees that live in my mind. I'm pretty sure the Jonathan form of "tree" has been this way since I was a kid, and I am a weak writer for not being able to explain its origins. But it's a tree that looks like a puffball mushroom crossed with a sci-fi building from 1960s futurist art.
I'm going to see this crippled dog through to completion, but at the end of the day I have forsaken him in my heart for the forest behind him. I've been hooked on figures since I started this Spirals In Love thing (www.spiralsinlove.com, buy buy buy), but at some point I now want to fill up the biggest piece of watercolor paper I have with nothing but trees. It can be our little forest, and we don't need any dogs or burritos.
