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That account of flies:
We were looking out the window of Neil’s attic, years ago when the attic was just an attic. These wonderful big blue bottle flies lay dead on the windowsills. Neil told me they were from the previous summer, when flies had been a real problem. Naturally I asked if I could have them, and Neil said okay and fetched a jar to put them in without (to his credit) even making a face.
They were lovely dead flies.
I knew I wanted to use them but didn’t know for what. The little jar was nearly half full. I liked the way the jar of flies looked so didn’t mind that they sat for weeks while I worked on other sculptures.
Finally, I decided to make a sculpture with a fly lollipop. I opened the jar to choose flies for the lollipop only to discover that the jar had been a grape jelly jar and that the flies... smelled exactly like grape jelly.
They’d become a bit dry and some of the heads fell off so that I had to glue them back on. That was okay. But they smelled like grape jelly.
I realized too late that I’d glued a couple of the heads on upside-down. I didn’t care about that nearly so much as that they smelled like grape jelly.
Now, you might not see this as a problem. I’m guessing that most of you haven’t worked with flies that smell exactly like grape jelly. Maybe you won't take my word that it’s an experience you want to forget, but can't. You might try it yourself and never ever eat raisins again.
Ever.
I don’t have a photo of “Lolly and Her Insignificant Angel” on hand. Possibly Ravyn does, or Robert and Roland, who live with Lolly.