Lord Spencer, 6 x 6, acrylic
Elizabeth W. Seaver
Eschewing all transportation producing waste, either into the air, or in great steaming plops in the middle of the road, Lord Spencer sallies forth on his bicycle to check on his tenants, the Moles.
He is conscious to wear clothing which will at once be suitable for riding out on a cool, crisp day, and proper attire for a bird of his station in life. One must show respect for oneself, after all, as well as for those on whom one calls.
And the poor Mole family has been beset by all manner of ills. Henry is recovering from having tripped over his own mole hill and spraining his ankle; he is woefully behind at work. His wife, Martha, is expecting a blessed event at any moment. Worst of all, their parents' indisposition is causing the older children to run amok.
Just the day before, Lord Spencer himself caught Essie in his stables, letting the air out of the tires of all his best mounts. His groom threatens to quit on account of it.
Petie, after repeated corrections, continues to dig random tunnels, hoping to join his burrow to his best friend Ronald's burrow, causing the entire field to look like it has been plowed by a drunken farm hand.
Lord Spencer remains sanguine, ever the practical landowner. "Moles are nothing if not great aerators."