somepinkflowers

tourist tuesday and the park guell

I have never been a big fan of January. Nothing personal.

I don't know about where you live but here in north Florida January is about the least popular month on the calendar. I think it is because she is such a fickle lady. You never know what to expect. She is always bringing surprises.

And not the good kind of surprise either. Not like a friend dropping in with a fine bottle of wine to share or an interesting book to loan.

I am not complaining about January. I am just saying...

January can bring tropical rain or she can dump freezing temperatures. So last week she brought, completely uninvited, a solid week of nights with hard freezes which completely killed this and this and this.

I am so completely upset with January that I have decided to leave town for the next few minutes and I am taking you with me. Hope you do not mind. Hold on.

We are going to Barcelona.

I am not taking you all over Barcelona. I am just going to plop you down for a walk in one of my favorite places. A special park which you may have heard about. Park Guell.

But first watch out for the unfriendly dragon.  She is guarding the park entrance. You must throw money at her BEFORE you snap her photo or she will speak angrily to you in Spanish or in Catalan. You might not understand her but she will not be smiling at you when she is talking loudly and quite fast.

Well, that is what she did to me.

I am not complaining about the unfriendly dragon. I am just saying...

Anyway, in case you have not visited here before, I am all gaga over this guy. Truly I am.

He was one of the most amazing, creative men of all time. At least in my book. If he were still walking around on this planet I might have to belong to his fan club and if he did not have a fan club, I would most likely start one.

See. I am gaga over Gaudi.

The truth of this park is that it was at the time considered  to be a major flop.

The main patron, Guell,  decided that Barcelona needed a housing development far, far from town, high on a hill. This was to give the folks a place to be away from the noise of the city in the mid~1900s.

So a park was designed first and plats were measured out.

I think that Gaudi and Guell thought, "If you build it they will come."

But the people did not come. Only two people liked the idea and built homes here.

Man, if they had only known then...

What started out to be an exclusive garden city encircled by mansions never blossomed into much.

Fortunately for you and me and thousands of locals and millions of tourists, my friend Gaudi had a running start on the construction of the park.

And what a park, indeed.

Right at the front of the park Gaudi built two pavilions to be used by the gatekeeper.

Rumor has it Gaudi was inspired by the story of Hansel and Gretel when he was building.

Go back and look again at my first photo, if you like. I will wait right here for you...

Everywhere you go in Park Guell you will see Gaudi's artistic touches. A friendly dragon fountain {extremly friendly, by the way} and the monumental Hypostyle Hall.

I love how Gaudi was building Green even then. Using up bits and pieces of broken glass and plates in grand ways.

Do not forget to look up.

Every where you look is a curve and a flourish.

Nature fashioned from rock and metal. Nothing is left plain~Jane;  nothing ordinary vanilla.

Everything Gaudi created used several flavors with swirls of whipped cream and then nuts and sprinkles on top.

He was that kind of guy. Everything or nothing.

Now you see  why I am gaga over Gaudi.

This artist doodled with every medium known to man.  See.

Look all around you.

A column to hold up the roof was so much more. A column is a lady balancing fruit on her head here. A column is a tree over there.

What was a failure back in Gaudi's day--a subdivision that did not sub divide--is now a great adventure and a fine destination all rolled into one for kids of all ages.

Aren't you glad I brought you here?

You have no security lines at the airport, you have no jet~lag in your brain and you have not spent a pocket full of euro and, yet, Here You Are.

Oh happy day!

Did I mention the Park Guell is at the top of one massive hill?

Did  I mention the bus drops folks off way, way down there at the bottom of the hill?

Well, next time I will take more shots of the hill I climbed. the winding step road I walked to get you here. {You are most welcome. Think nothing of it.}

I am not complaining about the hill. I am just saying...

Would you just look at this.

It is the back of a most comfortable winding bench that meanders around the  large square at the top of the hill.

Some people I know could sit here for days looking at this bench covered in shattered ceramic detritus.

On a sunny day this is The Place to sit and people watch.

I could sit here all day. You go look around and I will wait here for you.

I do not mind one little bit.

Go ahead and climb to the top of the hill. Look out over the square where children play soccer and over the alcoves where lovers smooth. See how far you can see.

To the left you can make out the spheres from this Gaudi masterpiece. Although not finished it is most amazing.

You know me. I do not want to miss a thing.

And, naturally, I will always find somepinkflowers draping.

Down there is the long, long line for refreshments.

You should be very happy I stopped here  first to shop for us, to select a small, healthy snack.

I was not a Girl Scout for 8 years for nothing.

I am not complaining about the long, long line. I am just saying...

Before we go home you might want to stop in the gift shop to purchase  something made of tile.

Maybe a little friendly dragon or the ubiquitous T~shirt.

What did I want to buy here? Why the walls, missy, but they were not for sell.

If you can translate this sign please let me know what it says. I think it is an environmental message in Spanish or in Catalan.

If it says something naughty, never mind and pardon me, please.

Now I am going to take you home....

Just... Like... That...

Hope you enjoyed this  brief escape from January-in-your-town where it may be cold and snowy or hot and muggy.

By the way. You can come back here any time you like. Just be sure to watch out for the unfriendly dragon at the front gate.

I am not complaining about the dragon. I am just saying...

smart and full of passion

Sometimes in the morning, if I am not running too far behind schedule, I like to lift the narrow window in my shower and look out on the world.

It is an upstairs window which looks out through mossy~draped live oak trees. In the winter when the tree branches are not covered with extra blankets of vines  I can see all the way down to the creek.

Not that there is much to see.

Mostly I am getting the lay of the land, a handle on the day. Trying to start the day with a moment of peace and quiet before Life jumps in to change the course of my day.

You now how easily this can happen.

If the day is north-Florida-in-July hot, I am letting out cool air-conditioned air. If the day is north-Florida-in-January cold, I am letting out the heat. I do not open the window every day as often I am running somewhat behind schedule. 

Opening the window I am being wasteful----->energy-wise.

I cannot help myself.

This is my early morning window on the world and I do see amazing things sometimes. Nature things which give me pause. 

Last week I watched a brown bird of unknown species fuss a much larger squirrel away from the shallow dish of water I keep on the little wall that edges my garden.

What was that bird thinking to splash around  in the noisy squirrel's drinking dish? What was running through his little, bitty bird~brain?

{Nothing personal, but he did have a little, bitty bird brain.}

Anyway, here I am standing naked in my shower with all the warm air pluming out the window, money escaping though the screen, money winging it up and out into the cold air. Money I will never see again.

Foggy dollar bills evaporating. Wasted energy.

I try to be smart about such things. I do not waste water and I do recycle. I use green bags at the grocery. When I take my car out I do everything in one trip or wait until another day.

If you saw me walking along the street  you might say, "Why, I bet that girl is eco~minded."

And mostly you would be right.

I drive a sporty white jeep and I cannot lie. I love my 10 year old car.

It gets me where I need to go and I do not drive far.

Library, home, gym, beach and so on. Mostly all back and forth down one main road and over one bridge.

Because I love to ride in airplanes every chance I get, I try to keep my carbon foot~print in check here on the ground.

In my neck of the woods there is no mass~transit, no jumping on the train or bus.

Here your car is everything.

Somewhere in the future I see myself in a smaller car. Maybe a little blue one which gets  60+ miles to the gallon. Or maybe it will plug into a wall~socket when at home in  my garage.

I can see myself in such a car. But not yet. Not now.

Now I need a car that will tote my bike, 12 bags of mulch and 3 flats of petunias.

A car that has room for beach towels and beach chairs and a cooler and a gym bag and extra flip~flops and such. I need room for a shovel to dig my way out of  too soft beach sand.

Just in case.

When I do travel here and there I am always taking photos of little cars in other countries.

While some people take tons of photos the Colosseum and the Eiffel Tower,  I shoot photos of the tiny multi~colored cars that park 3 to a space. Like sugar~cover almonds, these babies must come a handful to a pack.

While everyone else is facing left photographing the attraction, I am facing right shoot the parking area.

I cannot help myself.

I love how these bitty ones can pull gently up onto the sidewalk and still not be in the way for pedestrians. I love how they back into a space and stick  front out into the street rather than parallel to the curb.

They are no longer than a motorcycle. How do they do that, I wonder? How do they fit all of the car bits inside such a small package? How?

I am so in enamored with the cuteness of these  darling cars.

I have never ridden in one of these guys, have you?

It would most likely scare me to death and back again. I think I would feel like a grasshopper or something.

In north Florida the road belongs to pick~up trucks and vacation vehicles. Out on the highway semis and tractor~trailers rule the roost.

Even in my Jeep I am often intimidated. 

Folks pull out in front of me with alarming regularity.

Some days I am certain my car must be invisible. I yearn for horns and whistles and lights flashing to protect my  best interest.

While I am full of passion about protecting the environment and saving our natural resources, mostly I want to save my self.

Plus, I always have loyalty to my friends, my family AND my cars.

I cannot help myself.

one world~one heart, somepinkflowers and the verdant necklace

My name is somepinkflowers and I am ever~so glad you dropped in for One World~One Heart.

Come with me into my back yard where we have parties at the drop of a hat and where music grows like mushrooms after the rain,

Where the moss sprouts up fluently in several  languages on my old coquina wall.

This is Florida, after all, where Humidity keeps her summer palace...

If you have ever wondered where worn~out butterfly wings might go to rest, where the too~small~casings from an aging lizard might find refuge....

If you have ever wondered where flashy minnows hide from hungry blue herons on hot, steamy summer days ...

If you have ever wondered where broken bottles bloom into baby glass flowers, where these guys hide from Cajun cooks...

If you care about such things...

If you mind does wander and wonder as mine is apt to do...

Well, often these bits of flotsam, jetsam and detritus end up here in my back yard...

Down the shady ravine, near the narrow creek where the pileated woodpeckers satisfy their hunger...

Where the hooty owls make their nests in live~oak trees draped with Spanish moss. Noisy, dating, mating owls that keep me up all hours of the night with their shenanigans. Man!

But that is another story.

Anyway.

Here is where I keep my verdant necklace. On the lichen bed.

My verdant necklace is the treasure I will give away as part of One World~One Heart.

If you are ~lucky~ you might win the verdant necklace.

I do hope YOU win...

I am not saying the verdant necklace is magic, or that it will change your life.

But who is to say?

Certainly I believe in such things. If the moon is full, for instance, or if you make a wish...

Must you slay a dragon to win the necklace? Give me tickets to a rock concert? Name a lovely shade of nail~polish in my honor, perhaps?

Nooooooo...

So simple to win really.

Leave me a comment telling me please, where you would wear the verdant necklace if it were to make it's way to your neck of the woods.

Tell me, please, where would my treasure travel? What state? What county? What party? What event of global importance?

The winner will be drawn randomly and announced here on February 12, 2009.

I will do my best to contact you from your comment but it would be lovely if you popped in again to visit.

One World~One Heart

A little treasure made here by me and sent there to you.

Random connections made...

Oh happy day!

Isn't life grand.

Thanks ever~so,  Miss OceanDreamer.

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Dear One World~One Heart Participants,

Welcome! I am so glad you dropped by to visit but do know this----->I am on holiday and, while your comments are being collected with gentle~care, none will be posted until I return which will be in plenty of time for the drawing on February 12, 2009. Please post your comment only once as my small mail box tends to over~flow when left alone. {{ Who knows what is going on in my absence...Keep an eye open, will you, please....}}

Oh happy day! Isn't life grand!

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Note on February 12th, way early in the morning, sort of...

Oh My Goodness!

Look at all the names! I am off to pick the winner which may take all day as my Random Number Generator is down near the creek. Hang on and come back in time for tea!

somepinkflowers **~

crobsy, clapton, cooke, cline and now a bit of clair de lune

All in all, the whole room gave off such a gloomy vibe.

Then my mom leaned over the hospital bed, kissed my ever~shrinking dad and sang him a little song...

"I love you a bushel and a peck, " she sang softly, smiling down at his toothless grin which beamed up at her in recognition.

She paused for just the shortest second, measurable by 1/100th of a heart beat.

There, flat on his back in the comfy hospital nest where he had surrounded himself with detritus from his breakfast tray, my daddy was beaming, beaming, beaming.

The paper wrapper from a straw tucked purposefully under his whiskery chin and a teeny, plastic tub of strawberry jam squirreled away tightly in his right hand.

He seemed so happy.

There with his newly acquired bits of wonder my dad finished the lyric "...and a hug around the neck!"

From deep within his confused mind where his unwanted but constant companion, Alzheimer's, tap~dances non~stop, my dad knew what to say.

"...and a hug around the neck!" my dad finished proudly.

His mouth formed the words while his mind could not have cared less.

His brain was at the beach or on a ship somewhere out to sea where he was surrounded by treasures we will never know.

I, the eldest daughter, was transformed into an interloper as I happened upon a personal moment between a loving husband and wife who just happened to be my parents.

As hokey as it seemed, this ditty was part of their language of love which spanned over 65 years, so who was I to judge the value of a tune?

I backed without thinking into the bathroom, which was everything unromantic, to give myself some space and time. Time to breath, to think.

"...and a hug around the neck."

Such a simple phrase to remember. Such a satisfying thing to actual do. Hug a neck.

The power of music. The magic to sing along with some one else when your brain does not think but your heart knows the words anyway.

To hear two beats of a melody and then suddenly words bloom from you mouth.

How can that be?

After all my classes in learning theory I cannot explain it one little bit. I am myself confused.

Where is the romance in axons, synapses, neurotransmitters?

Brains feed best on moon, June, Honeymoon, I feel certain.

Only last week-end I attended a concert featuring these guys who played music of love and heartache and more.

My memory bank plum had a field day.

But I know what you are thinking...

You are thinking,  somepinkflowers is so fickle! She goes to a concert featuring this one; she goes to a concert featuring that one. Now a symphony!

What is with that girl?

Truth be known, I am a equal opportunity music lover. I will just about listen to anything. I love to dance but cannot sing one lick on key.

Throughout my formative years I took ballet, tap and modern jazz. My sister took piano. 

It is a family JOKE { hahahaha } that I cannot sing, even though I do try.

I am not getting one bit better as time goes by, I am sad to say.

The only time I ever sang on stage I was in Russia but that is another story.

Anyway.

At Pop Goes the Classics I was smitten straight away.

Mac Frampton and his sidekicks had flown in from New York City the day before and were so pleased to have missed a major snow storm that they were hopping!

They jumped off their planned program and wowed everyone with beachy, oceany tunes.

Under The Sea  melted into Sailing which segued into, well, you get the picture....

Even thought I might have been the youngest person on the third row, I was swaying with the rest of them, the best of them.

The advanced RP promised I would "experience Johann Sebastian Bach performed as if he were alive and well and living in Greenwich Village, Chopin from the setting of a cool jazz club and, of course, George Gershwin."

I am not sure where George Gershwin would be living today but you get the picture.

Most likely it would be somewhere featured wonderfully over here.

My favorite part of the concert was when Mac and his buds played a melody of theme songs from 1070's television shows. 

Over~achiever that I tend to be  :-)   I had to test myself by writing down the names of each theme song as he and his band played it. Then afterward when he told us the names I had to put an annoying little check mark by each one I named correctly.

I can be so show~off~y sometimes but I did keep my perfect score to myself.

Well, at least until now, which should not count against me...

You would have named them all, too. I feel certain.

Here, I will name the TV shows then you can hummmm the theme song:

• Mission Impossible
• Love Boat
• Happy Days
• Hawaii 50
• The Mary Tyler Moore Show
• Mash
• Those Were The Days

See, I knew you could do it .

After the concert when I was walking back to my car with a friend, she asked me, "What will happen to all these great tunes when we are gone?"

What, indeed!

Except for the TV ones, I barely know some of this music myself.

I hope we always have YouTube so we don't misplace the good music.

And parents that sing love songs to each other.

That is what I am hoping for.

And for people that can carry a tune, or at least keep track of it...somehow.

how i know it is a new year

They are back.

I knew it would happen. As the moon follows the sun, as January's self~promise follows December's self~indulgence, nature continues its cycle. And they are back.

The New Year's Resolution~ites have returned and have hit my gym.

It comes as no surprise. The same thing happens every year.

When I arrive at the gym and cannot find a place to park my dusty, white Jeeplet, then I know it must be January.

The Resolution~ites are back in number, puddling around each weight machine, clogging up the Ab Area.

Here they are, the Resolution~ites in three flavors, smiling with grand expectations for a healthy and skinny new year.

Bless them all.

The first flavor with high hopes are the new college students back from winter break. When they arrived originally in September they headed over to the beach for volley~ball, surfing, beach biking, sun~soaking~up kinds of things.

Not so much in January. In January it is off to the gym. To my gym.

They are easy to spot, these young ones. They are the Resolution~ites with the bright and shiny faces. Wrinkle~free, bright and shiny faces.

The hard~chested guys want to get pumped up before Spring Break; the cutie~pie girls want to watch the guys get pumped up. Or maybe it is the other way around. Most likely it is a bit of both.

As soon as Spring strolls in wearing flip~flops, these young ones will be outta here.

I do not mind this flavor of Resolution~ites. They are fun to watch flirting back and forth and as long as they do not sit too long on this I am happy to share my gym.

The second flavor of Resolution~ites are the older ones, the Snow Birds, who come down here from up north to escape the ice and snow and high cost of heating a home.

And who among us can blame them? These ones have outgrown their fondness for snowman building and find more pleasure in beach walking and shell gathering.

Their lives are made simpler and safer by lack of slippery sidewalks and icy front stoops.

"Thank God for sunny Florida," I hear them thinking. "Thank God."

These Snow Birds Resolution~ites bothered me for the longest time due to their increasing numbers. Even during these rough economic times Snow Birds are one species you will not find placed on any endangered list. On they come. Many of them roll south in one of these but most of the ones at my gym stay here at one of these on the beach.

My gym is like a country club to these older ones. A social gathering place for mid~day before an early lunch and nap, before coffee at Barnes & Noble. Who knows what's up?

They seem to be the shuffle~board set but who is to say what goes on during carefree afternoons when you have no windows to wash or gardens to weed.

Who is to say? 

Last year a friend of mine from over here  said I should be happy the Snow Birds were adding $$$ to the local economy.

Sometimes my friends can be so wise.

This past week I met a few Snow Birds and they seem normal enough. My eyes have been opened wide enough so now I view them with mild frustration appreciation.

I am quite fond of actual birds after all and when I travel I may be looked upon as a bit of a Tourist myself, which is rather like a Snow Bird, don't you think?

Where ever we go, there we are.

One of the nicest things about  the Snow Bird Resolution~ites is that they are here for only three months at a pop and then they are gone. They fly away home, happy, short~time visitors  who leave wanting more and so will be back next year.

I do not mind this flavor or Resolution~ites, either. They are fun to watch visiting back and forth and as long as they do not walk too long on this, I am happy to share my gym.

The third flavor of Resolution~ites are the locals who want to lose weight or turn over a new leaf. They look familiar but seem out of place. I know the face but not the body so exposed.

My banker in shorts, my dentist with his pecs showing, my librarian in her bike pants.

Oh, wait... That last one would be me...Never mind...

These are the ones I want to make it, the locals of my town.  They are not going to graduate and move away. They are not going to pack up and go back home after three months. This is IT for my local friends. This is where they live and will grow old. Here with me.

I want these local Resolution~ites to have stick~with~it~ness. I want them to be healthy and strong forever. I do not want them to give up before their contract with the gym runs out.

This seems to happen with alarming regularity.

Even if I do not know the person, I want them to keep plugging away.  I want only the best for my local peeps. It isn't easy to start a new workout regime and I try to be encouraging.

I want them to be at my gym every day of the week cranking out crunches, stepping high on this. Everyday taking this class or that one. Every chance they get I want them in my gym.

I do not mind this flavor or Resolution~ites at all. They are fun to watch, testing each machine and as long as they do not climb too long on this, I am happy to share my gym.

Except...

...I don't want them ALL at the gym when I go, during MY time.

That sounds so mean, doesn't it? I do not mean to be mean. I always try to share nicely.

I want working out to be the dollop of fun on the top of my potato of a day.

I want my parking space ready and waiting for me. When I walk in the gym door I want to glide from one weight machine to the next without long lines...waiting... Everything perfect and carefree.

I don't want to pop into the ladies room and find all the stalls full. That kind of situation.

Lucky for me if things get too crowded at the gym, I can find the simplest inspiration to exercise some other place.

I am surrounded by subtle hints pushing me toward healthiness and tasty suggestions nudging me on to happiness. 

All around me I see the possibility of a healthy and happy new year. For myself and for you.  Everywhere I turn.