somepinkflowers

in the silver toyota

Wearing soft white curls, driving along in her silver Toyota, she was clueless.

Maybe she was a momma, a grandma, but certainly an elderly daughter all grown up and sweetly aged.

Ignoring all rules of physical science she motored.

Mass, inertia, force & momentum were clearly not riding in her shiny, small car yesterday.

Without a look to the left, without a glance to the right, from a standing STOP she pulled out onto State Road 1.

Cars & trucks coming and going all around.
Cars & trucks zoom, zoom, zooming all around.

Speed limit 45mph, if one had the mind set to follow rules this far away from town.

The sound of vehicular screeching could be heard as others veered. Some swore silently behind glass. Several dropped cell phones, conversations stranded midstream.

Starbucks coffee sloshed on leather seats.
Dog pens shifted in pick-up trucks.

A wave of disbelief, followed closely by the sudden backwash of Thanksgiving, washed over many.

Wearing soft white curls, driving along in her silver Toyota, she was clueless.

Maybe her own angel*mother was looking down with a shield of Abundant Protection for us all.

Did anyone phone this in?
I have no idea.
My own iPhone sequestered away in the back seat, far from texting temptations.

I have no idea.

 

God grant me the wisdom
to hang up my keys
when the time comes.

~~~

haiku my heart with history

joan of arc heard them
voices deep inside her head
& so she saved france

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please, pop in over here~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

{{  recently finished reading this book
and enjoyed it tremendously... who knew?   }}

 

tourist tuesday and the natural history museum, london

Quickly, quickly come with me down Cromwell Road.

Imagine you are the great, great, grand niece of Audubon, or the far but fond cousin of Darwin.

Mind the small ones as we field*trip over here!

Fair warning:  If birds in cages give you grief, turn back!

Whilst we are not visiting all 90 million specimens housed at the Natural History Museum, remember this is no zoo.

Embrace the scientist that is in your heart and walk with me through the Bird Wing of the Museum.

The Bird Wing!

I know, I know!
But it is here that we learn to call the bits & pieces by their name.

Crissum.
Rectrices.

We look eye-to-eye with wondrous creatures from the past.

We get up-close-and personal with the everyday.

We watch future Audubons at work.

Maybe this one cannot travel to the jungles of Africa to capture her subject.
{{ Her water smuggled inside a recycled plastic bottle unless she paints with apple juice. }}

Here is the cousin of the ones that mate under the full moon near my own bedroom window.

Even in this state, the feathers call to me to touch.

Behind glass they perch and soar. They waddle and list.

I image that if I worked in London I would want to work here.

Unless, maybe, I could obtain a dream*job dressing windows down the road over here.

This place is a Noah's ark of dead things, I know.

Still I am drawn here time and time again.

It is here I think upon the poor dodo.

Also, I worry about the species that are disappearing even as I type this word.

Some birds I have at home but here they let me openly adore.

Another artist hard at play. This one with colored pencil.

I imagine how he spends his day.
Sitting in his own chair brought from home.
Coloring.

"On my way to draw the owls, dear!" he shouts out to his wife as she weeds her garden. Or maybe she is over at Hyde Park sketching the fresh & tall digitalis.

Down the hall school children are laughing.

But, here, now, there is the quietness of respect.

Always remember to look up and down the hall.
Here we could see everything, if only we had time.

I leave you with the blue-winged kookburra and dreams of northern Austrailia.

Diversity!
I am so in love with it.

 

haiku my heart with foreign films!

international!
HOLY subtitles, Batman!!
right in my wee town!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please pop in over here~~~

~~~~~~~
How many films can One watch in 4 days?

{{ St Augustine Film Festival }}

making medium muffins

Straight away let me tell you this----> You are not perusing a tutorial on Encaustic Anything.

Everything I learned about encaustic painting I did learn from this one over here.

What you are reading now is a Love Story~~a waxy crush, if you will~~ started sometime ago by this one.

I am besotted with this part--->
the way one can, embed with wax, giving things a dreamy look...

From time to time I photograph my somewhat artistic endeavors and share them here but tutorials are bothersome for me due to: 

1. Details.
2. Interruptions.

I am not so keen of measuring things exactly, growing up next to my grandmother as I did, where we eyeballed most thingies in the recipe department.

Grandmother's Egg noodles:

• Pile some flour on the counter and make a well in it with a spoon.
• Crack open a brown egg and drop the inside parts into the flour well.
• Fill up one half of the egg shell with water and pour the water in the well.
• Throw away all egg shell bits unless an egg*shell art*project is planned.
• Sprinkle with a dash of salt and, maybe, some bits of fresh parsley.
• Knead from the outside in to make a plump yellowish ball.
• Roll out and cut into lengths using a sharp knife.
• Let noodles dry over a wooden spoon held in place over the counter with a heavy Mason jar filled with dried field peas.
• At dinner*time simmer noodles in chicken broth until tender.
• Eat.
• Yum.

The above is not my Grandmother's Egg noodles.   It is a slab of beeswax.

Whilst writing this posting thus far I have been interrupted by phone by my mom, who will be 89 on Thursday, who lives 2 towns away in an Assisted Living Facility, who thinks every day she is still at work at the local high school from whence she retired about 25 years ago...

"I had to work yesterday on a holiday!"my mom complains, referencing Martin Luther King Day. "We ALL had to work over here even though the news was all over the TV!"

Having learned the way her mind works these days I go ahead & jump right in.

"I am so sorry you had to work, Mom!" I answer, a heartfelt & true ~loving daughter. "Everyone there knew that you could be trusted to run things while they were off."

"It was a day of service, Mom. You did a great service. You will get off next time and someone else will take a turn." I am on a roll here, getting into useful deception. It helps to have a creative mind sometimes.

"Plus, Mom, you got paid 2 times your normal pay!" I am out~and~out making things up now.

"Well, OK!" she says feeling wealthier.

So.
No tutorials from moi.

Let me just say this--->
You need to melt in  Damar Resin with the beeswax in order to keep it stable for painting. Stronger. Something like that.

I like the witchy mixing up of things, melting away on the burner. I enjoy the getting~ready~to~proceed parts.

Mostly I long for a cauldron.

I am hoping Damar Resin is a sustainable resource.
It often contains wee bugs and twigs like lovely Old Russian Amber.
{{ I love that it does.}}

The mixture must be strained, although, I rather like The Odd  Dark Thing swimming around in my wax.

Not one thing in the world smells as good as beeswax melting.
Unless it is sugar cookies, with a touch of cardamon, baking.

In my garage studio I keep the door wide open to safely ventilate.
Birds fly in sometimes to see what is up.

As my wax medium muffins cool I see the world reflected in my efforts.

Each one is filled to the top with possibilities galore!

On a cool day the wax sets quickly.

Each little muffin will go on to Bigger Things.

Don't they look yummy!

What happens next to the wax, you want to know? Some will be introduced to color.

This is one of my little encaustic paintings right here. But I need to motor.

Gene, who cuts my grass religiously and with much enthusiastic energy, wants to talk with me about Early Poison Ivy Control Methods.

We will see.
We will see.

If you get an art crush on wax or want to see more dreamy encaustic paintings:  Do pop in over here and tell Judy I said hello.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS--If you thought you saw my naked foot up there in this photo, well, you did.

Yes, I know I was standing on a cold concrete floor in the winter*time.

Yes, I know I was standing near melting Hot Wax. Yikees!

I think better with my shoes off. What is a girl to do?

 

{{ hiding in the studio but here is a hint }}

{{ I will give no more hints but this one --->
beeswax is involved in the nicest way! }}

haiku my heart is out there

within reach, so sit.
look up, then out, over there:
sea, then Africa!

~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please pop in over here ~~~

tourist tuesday and nights of lights in st. augustine, florida

Standing on the south rim of the Grand Canyon, Nikon in hand, I snapped nothing.

With colors rich and vistas wide the Grand Canyon overpowered me.
I put my camera away.

I am ashamed to say I bought postcards instead.

That was years ago before I learned my camera lessons.

Now I would capture the rocks at my feet if nothing else.

The first time I saw the Mona Lisa I was shocked.
So small and  crowd~surrounded was she!

I took photos of the feet of the people pushing closer to get nearer.

Shoes so different from one another.
Shoes seeming more approachable, more manageable than the Mona Lisa.

I focused on the details I could handle.

Yes.
I have better learned my camera lessons.

Always, always it is about the light.

About the details.

About looking up.

I love the Nights of Lights in my St. Augustine town.

Two million bright~white bulbs shining from November 19- January 31.

Plum magical, indeed!

I bet you have them in your town, too. These holiday light displays.

Here every one gets into the act as if by royal decree.

Our lights are not as vast as the Grand Canyon.
Not quite as well-known as the Mona Lisa.

But if you come to St. Augustine some holiday season and meander about as the sun goes down-- quickly and completely--you will not be disappointed.

Peak in small shop windows, midsized museums and grand hotels.

Look for the lights tracing the edges of old churches and street signs.

Search for the lights escaping through glass windows and doors.

Always, always look up.

Always, always look down.
Don't miss a thing!

If you go here you will see I am not the only one who loves these Nights of Lights.

Let me know when you get to town.

For only one amaretto sour I will gladly be your enthusiastic guide.

If you can find me...
If  I am not already out capturing the light...
{{ Best call ahead. }}

 

haiku my heart in morocco

 medina merchant:
"american princess buy?"
{{ marrakesh lingers }}

 

~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please do pop in here ~~~

tourist tuesday and notre-dame cathedral, paris

How is your neck doing these days? Loose, limber & able?

I ask because I have been doing TONS of looking up lately and there may be repercussions.

I bought my iPhone a new app for Christmas!
It is called Star Walk.

For $1.99 I bought the entire universe which in my book seems quite the bargain.

Naturally, because Star Walk is So Amazing, I have been pushing it on {{boring}} all my friends.

I think they are starting to hide when they see me coming at them.

My cell clutched in my right hand whilst wearing a dreamy expression on my glowing face can only mean One Thing these days.

"You have to look at this!" I insist.

I flap the phone skyward waving it to beat the band, stirring up the GPS until all manner of stars pop up gleaming.

New~agey music plays softly through the teeny speakers.
I am such a sucker for ambiance! Supernovae dancing!

"Just look at that!" I say thrusting my turquoise phone under a captured glance.

I easily share the entire universe I have come to own.
That is just how I am.
I would gladly give you the world and now with Star Walk I can.

"I bet you think that is a star, don't you, " I point to a wee golden dot pulsating on my phone screen and then to its matching actual twin in the dark sky over our heads.  

"... but it is not!"

I try to pause for effect but so jOyous am I, timing is now NOT my strong suit.

"That glow is actually Koronas-Foton which is an orbital observation satellite sent up by the Russians in 2009!"

I am rewarded with the glazed eyes of the missing~in~action.

Clearly my friend has better things on her mind like, say, her grocery list.

Difficult for Koronas-Foton to compete with eggs and bread and cheese.

As I mentioned the other day, several of my friends have been selecting powerful words to guide them through 2012.

This one wisely chose the short but sturdy word:  UP.

UP is everything, really.

UP is the best way to feel.

UP is the sky overhead with Koronas-Foton, whether we care about it or not.

Every where I go folks are looking UP for one reason or another.

Thank goodness.

If you should find yourself at any point in your life in Notre~Dame Cathedral, take a seat and look UP.

When your are in Notre~Dame you are at the very center of France from which all distances are measured.

Look around, too, while you are there, but do look UP.

The outside of Notre~Dame is a wonder, too. The facade is amazing. There are few things I enjoy more in life than a well~placed flying buttress.

I could walk around Notre~Dame all the day long and shoot 1000 photos. 

Mr. Boredom would never even show his face.

Well, I say that because I have done.

Today we are just sitting here inside Notre~Dame where it is warm and people~filled.

Always, always it is about the light, isn't it?

Light shining in and out and UP...

Glowing faces in candle light.
Faces looking down and out and Up.

Today I give you Notre~Dame and candles and Koronas-Foton and UP.

2012 is going to be such a time of sharing!

well, hello there, new year!

Outside my morning window this New Year's Day a bird sings: Chewy-chewy-chewy-chooowy.

I do not know this bird. Most likely he is just passing through. Just like me.

Just like you.

Last night I sat with friends on the end of the dock. Our tummies filled with exotic cheeses, cod*snacks from Newfoundland and local oysters opened by a golden campfire.

We watched, looking to the south towards the pier, as fireworks blossomed into red and gold chrysanthemums over the dark and seemingly silent sea.

Girl*pals {{ or as this dear one calls them: chums }} everywhere have been sharing their New Word for 2012. A single word to focus the year, to guide each day and give it special meaning.

I love this idea of word selection. A best~friend word as an angel on ones shoulder for 365 days. I feel the power in such a specially selected word. A totem word.

I listen in wonder at the selection friends have made, thrilled to hear the story behind the choice.

grace     strength     patience     acceptance

I get it.

I can never pick one word. Most words taste yummy inside my head. All are filled with possibilities. Each one could suit me to a T.

This clever one tells me, "Just pick a word for a short time and not for a whole year."

I mull it over.

So, I have selected my word for the week.
It is a rather long, hyphenated compound word, which maybe you do not know.

Are you ready?
--------->

periwinkle~Sorrento~saltwater~owl~forgiveness.