My Summer of Love

Winter at last

 
The title of my post is best for December 21st, the winter solstice.  I'm about a fortnight early.  However, the first snowfall of the season has made me so cheerful that I cannot wait to post wintry images.  I spotted these in a magazine I paged through at someone's house.  I crossed my fingers that they were somewhere online, because I couldn't forget them and wanted to see them once more.  Then I realized I'd like to share them with you. 

 

My favorite of the lot is the photo above, because I'm a sucker for canines from cold climates, and for igloos as well.  I'd love to build one, no kidding.  I need to travel to the Arctic and be taught the technique.

 

The pinks and fire tones look beautiful against the blue-ish white landscape.  I always love to see things that glow from within.

 

I bet I'll erase half of this post when I re-read it later.  I think I have a natural high from taking a run in the cold air this morning.

 

Each block of the colorful dwelling above boasts a different artful pattern.  One block has a great alphabet.  Others look like mosaic domes. 

 

One square is a painting of running horses.  It makes me think of my Medieval Studies courses in college, which were some of my favorite academic experiences.  The horses on that igloo bring my brain back to Byzantine art.

 

The horses on the block of ice also remind me of cave drawings.  I had an ivory colored t-shirt, with gold silhouettes of a stampede of horses all over the front. I bought it because it was sooo touchably soft, looked lovely in a very subtle way, kept me close to my favorite animals, and reminded me of equine drawings from art history.  If you ever see a shirt like this, please tell me :)  I think I left it in a cabin in Maine about four summers ago.  Sad that I couldn't replace it.  It's just a thing, so I shouldn't be attached to something like that.  Hopefully a wonderful person found it.  There goes another digression.

 

 

 

  There once was an ancient reindeer, with the strongest antlers any reindeer had ever grown.  He loved a rosy cheeked, pale skinned girl because she had believed in him long before he had his renowned antlers.  He brought her all the way to the North Pole because she'd always wanted to see the Aurora Borealis, and she believed it would solve some of the mysteries of her life.  They tied bright silks around their necks, so that they could spot each other if they were separated.

 

She dismounted when she saw what she thought were giant bear claw prints.

 
 

She followed the footprints to a shining edifice of ice. 

 

 
Inside was an abominable snowman, who snarled and heaved at her, setting off a great battle with the reindeer.  When the battle ended, the yeti was defeated and leaped onto a passing iceberg, sailing off to distant lands where he could be alone once again.

The reindeer suddenly shed his antlers, and transformed into a handsome man.  The rosy cheeked girl didn't know what to make of all this.
 
 



He looked a little silly in his suit, raincoat, and ski gear.

But then he whipped up the most unbelievably delicious hot toddie.
 
 
  

 He explained that she and he were destined for this moment, and that they had many more adventures ahead of them.
 

 
 
Suddenly there appeared a husky puppy, which she placed carefully in her satchel.  They mounted a sled covered in brown and beige fur and a team of dogs whisked them away.
 
She felt so excited, so confused, and so safe all at the same time.

 

 

 

*I changed the order of the pictures from the magazine, to fit the little story I dreamed up.
 
Currently listening to:  The Book Of Right On by Joanna Newsom, 2004  ("do you wanna run with my pack?  do you want to ride on my back?")

 

Photos belong to Hermes, found via luxuo

Drumroll...

The winner of my first give-away is Anabela. 
 
 
Three cheers and congratulations!

Thank you very much to all who entered.  I wanted each one of you to win.  I don't know if I can bear these give-aways,  you're all so sweet in your own special ways, and I wish that a contest of this nature didn't mean I had to disappoint those of you who aren't taking the sweater home. 

 

I have many great presents to gift you.  The odds are extremely strong that you'll be the person with a prize in the future.  Because I'll make sure the same person doesn't win twice in a row, and I received only about a dozen entries- the perfect sized pool for everyone to have a good chance.  One of the coolest aspects of this contest was that even though we only had a few handfuls of entries, there were over seven countries represented.  Mostly the U.S.A., Canada, England, and Australia, but also Luxembourg, France, India, and Brazil.  Please don't be too shy or too bummed to try again if you see something you like here.

 

 

The view this morning out my windows:
  

I have a bunch of nieces, but one in particular I'm very close with because I take care of her all the time and she's the baby of the family.

The one who helped me pick the winner:

I cut papers in the shape of hearts.  Each one of your names was typed.  I painted each a different color, then I nestled 'em in a ski hat. 

 

I had to take a photo of my paper hearts, as they looked glowingly pretty in this early December light. 

 

I dusted them with snowflakes for good measure.

 

Yes!  That means today we woke to our first snow. 

 

Here is Anabela, seeing hearts everywhere she looks:

I'm happy that I get to send a package to Anabela this time, because it can serve as a birthday and Christmas gift as well.  And, in my past experiences with her, she's a tasteful, warm, sincere, and generous person.   I hope she loves this parcel.
 
I'm not sure if I should mention this, but I hope that she doesn't mind.  She and her fiance are the brains, hearts, and hands behind the blog fieldguided.  They are based in Toronto.  Their work includes tailored dresses, custom men's ties, cool ceramics, fresh and clean (and simply lovable) drawings, and more.  They sell their work on Etsy worldwide and Bakers Dozen (a shop of exclusive limited editions, based in Australia and founded by artist Amy Borrell, an artist whose paintings are in my home).
 
I own a couple of vintage pieces from Anabela, perhaps you'd like to see.  I cannot remember when exactly I obtained them; seems like ages ago. 

 

First, here's my silk pussy bow blouse, as they called it.  'twas in perfect condition, one hundred percent pure silk, and from Paris. 

 

 
Here's my vintage beaded collar, again in perfect condition. The tag reads:  "Made in Japan, Hand Made, styled exclusively for Segal's Reg'd" and it dates to the 1950s.  I owe Anabela thanks - thank you for bringing lovely little items into my home.  They're classic yet unique.
 

 
I'm peppering this post with stills from A Little Princess, released in 1995.

 

 

 

It came to mind when I saw my favorite toddler in curlers, as she was getting ready to see Santa Claus today. 

 

She reminded me of several scenes, when the boarding school chums are piled on the bed.  They're telling stories late into the night, while their mistress plays a concert harp downstairs.  She's unaware of their mischief.

 

All of the girls use rags for curlers, tied into their silky locks.  I love the way it looks! 

 

Such a beautiful film.  It was nominated for Oscars in Best Art Direction, Set Direction, and Cinematography.
 
Have any of you read the novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1904) or seen the movies (1917 starring Mary Pickford, 1939 starring Shirley Temple, 1995 starring Liesel Matthews)? 

 

Here's a preview if you're in the mood  (2 mins 49 secs) :

www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2052259865/

A running theme in the story is exemplified in these lines:
 
Miss Minchin (the head mistress):  "Don't tell me you still fancy yourself a princess?  Look around you!  Or better yet, look in the mirror."

Sara Crewe:  "I am a princess.  All girls are.  Even if they live in tiny old attics.  Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren't pretty, or smart, or young.  They're still princesses.  All of us.  Didn't your father ever tell you that?  Didn't he?"
 
I was reminded of the film in a second way today, because this is how it felt to see the first snow of the season.  It glistened, covering the landscape outside my windows:
 
 

 
Now I'll bid goodnight to all of my readers out there, who surely are fit to be princesses, young and old.

 

Adieu, mes amis!
 

Currently listening to: 

 

"Step Right Up" by Tom Waits, 1976 

 

(wherein he growls the lyric "prizes, prizes, prizes")

 

Image credits:

1) Prizes girl drawing- by

Heather

2) Girl smiling with snow on her face- belongs to Warner Bros., found via clickable link

3) Snow woods- by Heather

4) Baby with curlers- by

Heather

5) Paper hearts- by

Heather

6) Anabela in glasses - used here with permission from Fieldguided

7) Ivory blouse- by

Fieldguided

8) Beaded collar- by

Fieldguided

9) Girls on head of huge Indian statue with swimming elephant below- belongs to Warner Bros., found via clickable link

10) Girl in open attic window- belongs to Warner Bros., found via clickable link

 

 

Covered stones

 Hey guys.

I expected to be on the road tonight.  But, I ended up traveling during the day... and I can steal a minute to post a blog now.  I was in the car, train, subway, and walkin' with my legs for hours.  I'm going to have a drink... soon as I post this.  The seasonal choice would be a hot toddy, let's cross our fingers that the ingredients are in the pantry. 

(If you're reading this and you enjoy hot toddies too after wonderful cold weather travels, tell me if you prefer it with a favorite type of whiskey, rum, or brandy.)

I'm thankful for many, many things.  I can hardly do justice to such a thought in the few moments I have right now.

 

In the meantime, I'll show you pretty, textural things... to bring a little drop of art and nature into your day.  I bought these necklaces from this very cool girl Mimi in late summer.  

I use them more often as home decor (hanging from the ceiling or piled in a bowl), less often as jewelry.

 

I think crochet is pretty awesome, let's just get that out if I've not yet mentioned. 

(It probably started when I had an off-white crochet bikini top that I fell in love with, someone gave me as a gift.  If it's hard to picture, it looked sort of like this, except I'm not hot like these models, and mine had little seashells on the ends of the ties.  It was from a French boutique on St. Maarten.)

 

My mother crochets, so you'd think I'd be an ace...but she also practices medicine, takes language courses, volunteers for the Red Cross, is an adjunct prof, cooks gourmet meals, and will re-tile a whole damn floor if it needs it.  She's kind of extraordinary and I can't compare myself to her.  I do get a little frustrated that I can't crochet like a master.  I have to give it a good shot.

When I sew or knit (and I hardly feel I know how) it's usually for the relaxation.  To me, the activity feels both primitive and polished at the same time.  Makes me feel like a woman.  (Does that last part sound sexist?  Hope not).

The hand motions, the colors, and the physics involved are quite amazing and soothing to my sensibilities when I sew.  I feel centered.

Her store is closed now, but she was one of the coolest artisans I've worked with.

I raise my (hot toddy filled) glass to all of you- may you be safe and sound traveling to your various destinations! 

Am sending you love, and for those of you in the U.S.A., a wish for a Happy Thanksgiving.
 

Music:  Heart of Stone by The Rolling Stones, 1964

We'll come back for Indian Summer

It's November in New England.  So warm lately.  Makes me want to do yoga outside.

 

Music:  Indian Summer by Luna, 1993

Breakfast in cemetery
Boy tastin wild cherry
Touch girl, apple blossom
Just a boy playin possum
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
And go our separate ways
What is that cheerful sound?
Rain fallin on the ground
We'll wear a jolly crown
Buckle up, we're wayward bound
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
And go our separate ways
Motorbike to cemetery
Picnic on wild berries
French toast with molasses
Croquet and Baked Alaskas
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
We'll come back for Indian Summer
And go our separate ways
Cover me with rain
Walk me down the lane
I'll drink from your drain
We will never change
No matter what they say

photo via dailybitsofbeauty

Speaking of Grey Gardens

 Three pumpkins.

I took the photo above because I couldn't believe how red the pumpkins were this year, and I was equally enthralled with the pale ones.
 
Hello to my readers and pals, and to all the beauties of fall.

I also noticed the gourds were bird-shaped.  I took a pic of this posing pair:
 
 
  
So far, this page is meant to be an inspiration journal, more than it’s meant to share my life story.  The tricky part is that I'll feel incomplete if I only talk about pretty things and things owned, without telling you about me as a person.  I do hope to share more and more of myself as this little blog progresses.  Especially my hand made paintings and things I sew.  This page is called My Summer of Love, so I should probably write more about love, too.

Since Grey Gardens has been a topic of conversation for some of my favorite artists, bloggers, and wonderful people I know this year, it's a good time to tell you some more about my life.  I've spent some of my career in places that, you might say, echo the beauty of Grey Gardens.  Some of these mansions were "homes away from home" for me.  I was steeped in them.  Metaphorically I became a heaping spoonful of tea leaves; the buildings were teapots I was poured into and left to brew in.

Misty morning:

 

My blog is making me realize I'm interested in the concept of humans being understood by one another...on some level, I think blogs can be about that.  I'm sure much of this stems from the fact that I'm communicating with new people on My Summer of Love.  So I'm not only speaking to close friends but also to people who do not know me well.    I shouldn't give much thought to being understood... I remind friends and family to re-read their Ralph Waldo Emerson when they have similar concerns.  I should take my own Emersonian advice when it comes to blogging!  Mr. E would want me to transcend those notions.

With that said, I'll share a little.

At one mansion, after our curatorial work, we'd peel off our thin white cotton curating gloves and go eat lunch in the rose garden.  We'd play badminton in the grass under towering evergreens and dive into a very private swimming pool.  Brrr.  Historic in-ground diving pools are deep and cold as the Dickens.  My teeth chattering commenced and goosebumps came, even on the HOTTEST days.  My friend and I cooled off, got some exercise, and played. We were carefree.  Looking back on it, it was like heaven.
 
18th - 20th century fine art, ancient artifacts, and a surprising amount of equestrian tack were all over.  The properties contained a sort of patchwork of the past and the present.  They were treasure troves. 

My work places weren't like the Beales' residence, of Grey Gardens fame, had become in the late 1960s and early 70s.  The ones I came to were neither filthy nor disturbing.   But, they were similar in that they were buildings that told stories of "the life before."  It's sad to hear about all the bizarreness and decay that descended upon the Edies.  They were beautiful human beings, according to the stories.

When I spent time doing museum work in architectural jewel boxes, the buildings were clean and spacious.  They had electricity, running water, and funding.  Money and good people are the two most fundamental elements required to protect old buildings and make them shine. 

I snapped this of a doe mother and her spotted baby fawn:

They had lovely "bones" and we were supposed to return them to their original luster.  We were assigned to curate the collections.  We had to transform homes into something that tourists and academics could drink up.  They were going to be used as places of beauty and centers of learning. 

At some places where I worked, things had been destroyed, vandalized, or left to the elements.  Other places where I worked, the collections were intact- every painting, teacup, letter, silhouette.

I've had the good fortune of spending days upon days of my life in rural settings.   Of course there is a city girl inside me and there always will be, but even when I lived in my apt up high in the sky, one of my many blessings was that I could travel to an oasis every week, down close to the earth or the sea.

 

In 1954, Irving Berlin wrote, "Count your blessings (instead of sheep)."  I try to follow the philosophy.   I think this blog is helping me to do it, even more than I did before.

 

Here are a few photos from these times in my life.
 

Fashion shoots in old buildings are effortlessly romantic.   We did fashion shoots a plenty.

An awesome effect comes through the camera whenever gorgeous models are photographed against the imperfection of distressed buildings.

The photos of the model were taken by a professional for a catalog.

Here's another photo I took-  I've always loved fireplaces.  This one was taller than I was. 

The heat, the scents, the glowing embers of a fireplace are addictive in my opinion.  I grew up with one and now I always want a house with one.

In the city I remember seeing so many fireplaces that weren't in use, and I always thought it was a shame. If you live in a building where logs aren't allowed, you may be able to put some smokeless dripless candles in your fireplace...pillar candles can look pretty. 

 
Luxurious fabrics contrasted with chipped paint and old woodwork.

 

 
I hope this gives you a window into some of my experiences. 

To work on projects like these, you had to be a "visionary," which I tried to be, and hope that I'll continue to be for the rest of my life.  In my experience curating, you can only do the work if you are a person who cares about honoring the past and enjoying the future.
 

 
 
Some of these photos were taken by me, some by people I worked with.  The fashion shoot scans are a bit grainy, but in person the models in the rooms were breathtaking. 

One day I'd like to show you even more photos, if you enjoy these.

Here's wishing that you soak up the beauty all around you this week!

Currently listening to:  "Feels Like Home" written by Randy Newman 1993, performed by Edwina Hayes 2009

Heathered gray

I have a new dress.

When it touched my skin I felt a bit like a she-wolf.

These images make me think of the lyrics "What was golden went gray," from the album The Milk-Eyed Mender. 

This dress is mini-skirt length.  It doesn't look that way so much on this model, which surprises me.  I think it's the tall grass creating an optical illusion.  Or, with any luck, I'm proportioned with fairly long legs for my height.  I'm barely five foot three and it looks very mini skirt-ish on me.  It has a great square neckline, with cool braided edges.  One of the best parts is a silky lining inside.  It was made by LuLu Via.

At the risk of a non-sequitor, let's rally to support the recovery of wolves from the brink of extinction. I mean it wholeheartedly.  We need to follow our heartstrings when they are tugged.  Are any of you guys lovers of wolves?  I used to have a print of a howling wolf in the snow. It was beautiful and I kept it in my room growing up.  Now I rely on India Richer paintings for that effect.

Photography above by Stephanie Williams.

I'll include a 2 minute vid below, unrelated to the photographer or dress maker.

It's called "Living With Wolves."

Explains that only 52 Mexican gray wolves exist in the wild in 2009.

They are the most endangered mammals in North America.

What is becoming of this world?

Sweet ladies and gentlemen... may we all strive to be good, and care for the beasts who cannot speak for themselves.

Currently listening to:  Peach Plum Pear by Joanna Newsom, 2004

For those who actually want to help, there are many ways. Here is one: clickable link of petitions and ways to save wolves

Little galaxy in your hand

Dear mother nature, you never cease to amaze. 

Have you ever heard of or worn a druzy? 

I think they look like little galaxies in your hand. 

I just love the idea that you could have a piece of the sky secretly pressed in your palm. 

Or a droplet full of stars hanging around your neck.

They look sugar dipped.  Like gum drops and spice drops.  They look wet.  The grey or white ones look salty.

One of my favorite visuals is freshly powdered Turkish Delight, and druzzies remind me of the old fashioned treat. I first learned of it when I was very young, reading the classic novel, "The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe" by C.S. Lewis.  The White Witch asks the future King what he would like more than anything, and this is what he asks for.  She conjures it up, he eats it all.  They are in the snow, in her sleigh, and she covers him with a fur cape.

"It is dull, Son of Adam, to drink without eating," said the Queen presently. "What would you like best to eat?"

"Turkish Delight, please, your Majesty."

The Queen let another drop fall from her bottle onto the snow, and instantly there appeared a round box, tied with a green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of Turkish Delight. Each piece was sweet and light to the very centre and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious. He was quite warm now, and very comfortable.

Personally, I don't actually eat it.  It is too sweet for me.  Yet, I'm so happy that it comes in the flavor of roses, or even rolled in pistachios.  Turkish delight has a special place in my mind, and simply looking at it does wonders for me.  I'll do a post about it some day, with pictures, history, and recipes.

Back to the druzzies.  If you meet a fetching person with such jewelry, or a bowl full in their home, they are hard semi-precious stones, not fruit.   Don't bite them :)

A druzy (also spelled drusy, drusie, or druzie) is derived from volcanic rock or quartz.

A little description I read, when I wanted to know exactly what they were:

"When water carrying dissolved silica is forced into a cavity in a rock and rapid cooling occurs, tiny crystals are formed on the surfaces of the rock cavity and form druzy. Most people have heard of a geode. When the crystalline surface is small enough inside the geode,  it is called druzy."

I'll insert some other-than-druzy photos here.  As an artist and nature lover, I'm into pink and flesh toned chunks of our earth, and I think they all go together in this post.  These are a type of opal.

How amazing is all that we have at our fingertips? 

They look as though they were harvested from another planet.

photo credit for first image: sparklecouture

The peace of wild things

  
I wish I could ride my own horse every day.  At least every Thursday.  I love that the day is named for a god from Norse mythology. 
 
There's so much about Scandinavia that I'm drawn to.  I fall in love with certain things in life, random items that cross my path, as we all do.  But extreemely often, I discover my favorite things originated from that part of the globe.   When I say this, I'm not only referring to world-renowned Scandinavian things.   I don't really mean how I fell for Kay Nielsen's art, and after I bought his book, I learned he was a Dane.  I'm sure he has millions of fans.

What I mean is, even when I pick out a pair of booties, down the line I'll invariably discover the pattern was Nordic.  I'm unknowingly surrounded by pieces of their culture in my home.  I was attracted to the Carlo Van de Roer photo of the man in the lagoon, long before I knew Carlo took it in Iceland.  I bought some beautiful lights made of needle-felted wool.  The artist was French, and once we got to talking, she told me her fibers came from Icelandic sheep.  The visual of those particular herds-- their wooly coats dotting the hills of that island nation-- it's too good to be true.  Now when I look at those lights I think of that country.
 
I occasionally look for artist in residence programs there.  I seriously considered leaving New York behind and going there for a spell.  If there were such a thing as past lives, I would dare say:  I once was Icelandic. 
 
The word Thursday, some of you know, means thunder-day.  Lili surely remembers more about ancient mythology than I do now.  I'm rusty on the subject.
 
Some writers identify Thor as another version of Jupiter.  In English, we are saying Thor's day, while the lovely French ("jeudi") and Spanish ("jueves") are calling it Jupiter's day.
 
I don't know what all this has to do with today's photos really.  Let's talk about these photos.  These scenes aren't Scandinavian-inspired, they are Native American.  The girls and animals seem at peace.   The peace of wild things.
 
On the other hand, we could be looking at Sioux warrior horses.  The riders may be glowing and victorious after a battle. 

I  love how tall the crowns are,
 
how the coats of the horses look spotted with clouds or smoke,
 
and how a painted hand was placed, open palm, on the triceps muscle. 

 

Have a wonderful Thunder-day, my dear readers. 

I'll leave you with a little spot of poetry!

"When despair for the world grows in me, and I wake in the night at the least sound, in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things, who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free." - poem by Wendell Berry, born 1934

Currently listening to:  Jóga by Björk, 1997

Video directed by Michel Gondry

 

(the two photos above were originally published in: i-d mag. source: scout-holiday) 

 

The true story of peacocks gone astray

 

Part of my job is working with scholars.  They'll ask me questions, I'll read lots, and give them the answers.  Other times, I'll direct them to someone I know, or to a good book, or whatever I think would be best for them.  

Occasionally, a researcher comes to see me because of an exhibit they'd seen years ago that I did.  They want to write a book or thesis and my exhibition was part of their inspiration.  That is one of my favorite things to hear.

We work together on and off for months, solving mysteries together. 

A few days ago, I heard a heartbreaking animal story from one of these authors, as we sat there with our curatorial gloves.  She works for a modern art museum...one of my favorite museums, which I won't name, but where I saw a fantastic Marisol Escobar show. 

Naturally, after working, we get to talking about things aside from the project at hand. 

At first I was excited, as she mentioned she had a story she thought I'd like to hear.  It was about a white bird with a few dappled gold feathers that she'd encountered.  She said the unexpected visitor was eating her flower and vegetable gardens, would come and go without a schedule, and had been doing so for weeks. 

A white bird?  My ears perked up.  White birds are some of my favorite things.  My brain filled with images of pale wing-ed things.  

She explained that she had no idea what species it was.  I was surprised, and I silently went through the possibilities in my head.

Let's start out simple.

- Dove?  

No, her bird sounded enormous.

- Swan? 

No, even the least bird-loving person could identify the neck of a swan, right? 

- Seagull?  

No, too commonplace.  The bird she saw was extraordinary.

I said to myself, "Come on, Heather!"

- Cockatoo? 

No, they are practically human and are attached to their owners.

- Pelican? 

No, I loved watching pelicans swim and fly in Bonaire. While I'm not an official ornithologist, I believe they prefer warm climates and bodies of water, rather than the gardens of a New Yorker.

- Egret? 

I occasionally spot one near my home. 

It's settled then...I figured that it must be an egret, or some kind of albino eagle she crossed paths with.

Well...

It was none of the above.

The update to the story- she newly discovered it was a peacock.  Which is startling, because even though they are collected, peafowl are not wild in this country.  Peacocks are native to Asia, and are the national bird of India. 

This one looks painted, but it's not.  It is real and alive.

Image source: link

If your neighbor had a peacock, you would know.

 

She asked her neighbors.  No one knew whose bird it was.  The authorities connected her with the owner, miles away in another town.  My hopes were high as she described the man coming to reunite with the lost bird.  

(I envisioned a real-life "Man In The Yellow Hat" from the Curious George books)

The scholar told me that no one had seen the bird fly before.  The owner and the bird's caretaker arrived and said:

"it couldn't-- wouldn't-- doesn't fly."   

Lo and behold, it took off when they tried to catch it.  The peacock soared to a rooftop.

They tried to sprinkle water onto the bird with a hose.  They said this would surely make it unable to fly once wet, but it flew away even further.  It vanished again.

The two men left empty-handed, and there were no further sightings.

Thereafter, the mate (who'd been left behind) ran away from home as well.

I couldn't believe it.  I wish I had seen it all and been able to help.

 

Even though I want them to be free, I'm quite worried about their survival once the snowy months arrive.

There is a romance going on...there are actually three peafowl. 

The plot kept thickening.

 

 

It is a love triangle...neither bird is in love with the bird that loves it back. 

So...first one left,

then the other,

then the other. 

These lovesick birds.  I cannot blame them for straying.  If you are being hounded by someone whom you do not want, it can be maddening.  On the other hand, if a creature feels unrequited love, it can drive the lover himself mad. 

Can there be a happy end to it?

The fact that a white peacock is out there wandering for months is unbelievable to me.  It must look like a ghost when it appears and disappears. A ghost wearing a crown and a cape.  

I'm still praying they all come home. 

Wherever you are, dear bird, I wish you well. 

May you be healthy, happy, taken care of, and in love. 

I have high hopes for you since I heard that you flew, when no one believed you could. 

  

I set out running but I take my time

Bear in mind, this first photo was taken with an iPhone.  I went to a party where there was a snail in a garden.  I realize they eat plants, and people don't like when there are too many.  However, I rarely see them anywhere.  I know people buy them for aquariums, because they are good for that type of ecosystem, as they eat algae.  I cannot vilify them.  I placed one in my hand.  He was nestled in tight and looked like an empty shell.  Other guests told me he'd never come out.  Let me totally nerd out and say slugs are not snails; they are two different animals.  I sat calmly with him in my hand.  He felt safe with me, eventually, and curious of what this alabaster hand was like.  He slowly stuck out his feelers.  It was not at all gross, it was adorable and only lasted a few moments.  These animals look ancient to me.  They are creations of the universe, or God's creations, or whatever you believe, as much as we are.
 

 
This summer I received a magazine called Paper, by an artistic Swedish company called Acne.  It flew to me all the way from Scandinavia, a place I'm enamored of.  It arrived in tissue paper with paint splatters and drip marks.

My favorite part of the issue is Tim Walker's shoot called Slow Down.  I snapped a couple of pictures of the magazine by a thicket, abuzz with honey bees.  
 
  

Above is what I took today.  Below is the uninterrupted original version by Mr. Walker

 
It isn't a glossy publication, which made for awesome photos in today's fading sunlight.  I enjoy seeing the shadows. 

The spread shows a girl modeling for us in an attractive and sparse living space...looks as if it is kept as a meeting spot for two lovers.  They rendezvous here and knock over lamps.
 

 
There's a larger than life snail on the wall, on the bed, and under the table.  There's something sexy about the animals, and I'm not positive why, precisely. They're fascinating with their horns, hard shells, hypnotic spirals, and stickiness.  Some say they are beautiful, others say they are horrid.  What say you? 
 

 
One of the pages shows the girl raising her chin.
 
I put a real violet on the page... you get a sense of how enormous the pages are.

 

In a small way, it reminds me of a sculpture I learned about in college, called

Saint Theresa In Ecstasy. 

 

It was made in the 1600s by the artist Bernini.
 

 
The shoot has a little touch of the Baroque period.
 
Something else I could tell you is that one of Aesop's fables was called

"The Snail and the Mirror."
 
I notice the model is holding a mirror in a few of these; it's very subtle.  I'm not saying the set designers were definitely thinking of the fable.   Still I thought I'd point out the possibility.
 
You're encouraged to click on every photo, until I widen this column.  I want you to see the silhouettes from the thistle flowers!  Those details turned out beautifully... the shadows looked like paintbrush strokes, thanks to the sun setting while I photographed.

Artist in my heart: Carlo Van de Roer

 

I'm running to a pool party for Nicole.  I don't want to go 3+ days without posting.  I'll likely do some polishing on this entry tonight.  For now, let me share some images I've been wanting to post. Click on each photo for its full splendor.

 

 

One of my favorite photographers is Carlo Van de Roer.  I can't remember how I was introduced to him.  I believe it was when I spent time in Jen Bekman's gallery in Manhattan, back when I was friendly with Amy Ross.  I must have come across Carlo's work then.  He was one of Jen's "hot shots" right around the time Amy had a show there. 

Carlo, in my experience, has been a very cool guy. This comes as no surprise, because his images are some of the most cooling, soothing, breathtaking scenes of humans interacting with water.  The hues are ghostly in all of them.  Carlo makes me feel as if I've taken a swim.

I'm really into the one right above this paragraph; it was taken in Iceland.   Looks to me like a man with arms outstretched, floating on his back, close to Nirvana. The sea is a dazzling color and reminds me of a milk bath. There's a long cloud of steam or ocean spray on the periphery, which will consume this man (or has already passed over him). It could be something sinister and menacing that approaches, or it could bring salvation to his soul. It's possible we're witnesses to the moment he reaches ultimate peace or ecstasy. It's up to you.

How he managed these shots is miraculous to me. Perhaps Carlo was floating like an orb himself, and was invisible to the people who were his subjects.

 

 

Do you think the man above will be swept out to sea?  He seems willing, to me.

I never want this series to end.  I felt his snowy one wasn't suited for today, a summer Sunday, so, I'm sorry Carlo and readers, I left the snow-themed one out.  However, the snow shot is probably my favorite of all in the series, and will make an appearance come winter.

 

 

In Carlo's own words:

 

The term "orb" is typically used to describe circular artifacts in photographs-- artifacts which by some have been interpreted as spirits.  Despite being debunked and explained (most commonly as backscatter from precipitation or dust), there's a surprisingly widespread belief that orb photographs document the supernatural.  There are organizations, conferences, hunts, field experts, detectors, and websites dedicated to spiritual orb photography.

 

This photographic search for something larger than ourselves was the starting point for this project.  I photographed people in landscapes that are partly obscured by precipitation.  The subjects are seen searching for or interacting with orbs, which are represented as dots covering parts of the scene.  The prints are displayed together, to be read as a group. 

 

 

Carlo is originally from New Zealand.  He currently lives and works in New York City. His photos were used on my blog with his permission.  

 

 

If you ever want for your own, his prints are for sale: here and here.

Image source: www.vanderoer.com

Fresh peaches

 

Yesterday on my way home I had to pull over, when I saw a roadside stand that our neighbors had placed out. 

As you can see above, a pile o' peaches had tumbled into the grass.

Don't fall, you sweet fuzzy babies

 

Our neighborhood has orchards:

 

and farms, alongside estates and cottages.  It's really a joyful place to live.  

They aren't commercial, they are for joie de vivre.

Across the street, horses were in the distance. My eyes could see them better than the camera could. One white horse moved like a ghost among the rich browns.

6 seconds:

Sun was going down and I know it was getting too dark for photos, but there was a hint of pastel watercolor in the sky.

 

Of course I picked the one with all the leaves:

 

Sis

This week I stayed with my sister in New York.  Her house is full of her personality.  She should be a designer. 

I can't wait to take more pics next time!

She planted a long, lush garden. 

It reminds you a bit of "The Secret Garden,"

with nooks for doing whatever you like. 

Inside are

roses,

tiger lilies,

azaleas,

a lilac tree,

Queen Anne's lace,

ivy,

and some purples (delphinium I believe).

 

There is a house for birds.

It was built by her man... and inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright's most famous piece of architecture, "Falling Water" :

(Image  source: clickable link)

 

A couple of creatures were there.

The first was a skinny angelic 18 year old, named Baloo.

The second was a young male from Philadelphia, named Franklin. 

... one of the most gorgeous animals I've ever seen- with the softest orange coat

and golden eyes matching

his fur.

I saw him laying alongside a vintage book:

"The Encyclopedia of Birds"

Don't you think this is perfect reading material,

especially for cats who

"would reside in fancy little houses" ?

 

On my blog you’re encouraged to click all pictures to enjoy the full size.

(You can see the bookish pussycat’s softness up close.)

I loved taking these photos. The sun was setting through tall windows. 

Check out some art that my sister's sweetheart obtained for her: 

 

On their wall is a beautiful portrait of

a musical great,

Marvin Gaye.

Painted in blues and greens with white lines. 

He leans back

while his hands cradle the back of his head.

Tom Sawyer's girlfriend

 

From my home library.

Written in 1887,

reprinted last year.

Inspiring for grown-up females

(even more than little scouts) in my view.

About 500 pages.

A treasure chest.

Some favorites from Spring & Summer chapters:

Transplanting wildflowers

Noah's ark peep-show

How to preserve the perfume of flowers

Quakeress

May-pole dancing

Midsummer eve fortune telling

Sea-urchin candlestick

Decorating with ferns

Polishing seashells

Thunderbolts

Mikado fan

Sending flowers by mail

Sea-side cottages

Fireworks

 

First day of summer

When I see the pink and golden orb above, I realize I get to spend my days in the most beautiful places... how'd I get so lucky? 

Angelo the landscaper came by to tell me the deer ate our flowers.  Can't blame them...they look like candy. 

I took these photos. 

Look at those pom-pommy blooms!

I love how they rebel and won't stay in the box, they spill out. 

  

Pale petals on the yellow brick road:

Escaping:

 

Pastel palette:

 

Nibbled: