somepinkflowers

tourist tuesday and my stay in the medina pavilion at peacock pavilions

From my library's dormer window I see five grey squirrels scampering up the oak trees in the front yard. They seem busy  and filled with earnest purpose.

It is April in north Florida and some serious squirrel*nest building is going on in a location Up High.

Serious house*nest cleaning and re-organization is going on inside my home, too. 

My spring cleaning happens like clock~work every April as I prepare to fly the coop in May for my vacation.

I want everything spiffy before I leave town. If my plane goes down and I end up LOST on some deserted island, I want my family & crew to find a clean place to gather whilst awaiting my return.

:-)

May is the best month to be in FLorida if the wild fires have not yet gone raging mad.

I know, I know.

Why do I leave my home just when plants are staring to green up, before Mr. Humidity moves in & smothers the entire state and before Hurricane Season sneaks in with all her windy baggage?

I paint such a fine picture of Florida one can not WAIT to visit!

May is the best time to be most any place on the map as far as I am concerned.

Hotels have been spruced up for the season, students are not clogging the beaches and airplane fares have not sky-rocketed through the roof, waiting as they usually do for June.

Last May it took me over 36 hours to travel from my front door in Florida to the front door of Peacock Pavilion in Marrakesh.

I arrived in the middle of the night, delivered by a polite young driver from the airport, to find Maryam & others waiting up for me.

Maryam & I both started our blogs in August of 2006. I followed her straight away as she & her handsome, architect husband Chris Redecke built their dream~come~true home in Peacock Pavilion.

I looonged to travel to this place, to look up into the grand domed ceilings of the salons, but saw no way for it to happen logically.

I sent these encouraging words in an email to Maryam in 2007 when delays were plaguing the completion date of Peacock Pavilion {{ I only last week  rediscovered the message saved in the Wrong Folder on my Old Computer. Go figure! }}

""I am a BIG believer

that we each move toward our Dominate Thought,

and that we draw things to us in this fashion.""

Why, I had no idea!
Peacock Pavilion must have become a Dominate Thought for me...

Peacock Pavilion is divided into several stand~alone buildings.

When I made my journey to Marrakesh last May, one might say it actually took me 4+ years to get there, I ended up staying in the very room I had imagined all along as being mine in the Medina Pavilion.

I love how these things happen, don't you?

The photos I share with you here are of the Medina Pavilion taken by me last spring.

Clearly, Maryam's eye for Morocan design detail is above reproach.

Perhaps you have seen photos of Peacock Pavilion on other blogs as it has become THE travel destination of many who seek yoga and art retreats of the highest quality.

While the top-notch B&B accommodations and exotic location are beyond stellar, the cuisine is the best you will find anywhere in the world. Many of  the fresh herbs & vegetables are grown on the grounds.

Yes.
It is here you will find Charming Luxury in Marrakesh.

At these risk of sounding like a advert, I have to share this news with you.

If you enjoy the photos here, you might enjoy Maryam's new book, Marrakesh By Design,  which will be available in the states on May 1st.

I have pre~ordered mine on Amazon.com.

Hopefully my copy will be waiting for me when I return from my vacation in June.

What is your Dominate Thought, travel*wize?

sometimes i do this

 Sometimes I pick up creamy*white seashells and faded dark grey ones on the beach.

I rinse each one off gently and then let them dry in the sunshine for a month or so...

I do not even care if they are broken or Have a History because they are just like most of the folks I know ...

Better with age ...

Then I glue these babies onto planks of old wood stashed in the scary store*room down under the rickety stairs...

Then I hang them up on the weathered walls to hide a few of the hurricane*cracks where they just hang around for 18 or 20 years ... or so ... chillin' out ...

Like these ones have been doing...

{{ no fooling }}

loving my spring*time

I don't know about where you live but over here, down here, in Florida we are celebrating Spring Time.

Spring Time is when I go sit over here & dream of things to do when I am not over here dreaming.

Spring Time is when I throw open the doors to my wee studio & stir up some Arty*Projects.

Spring Time is when I throw open the doors to my wee studio & enjoy glorious Mother Nature outside, whilst still being inside my own self.

What Spring Time magic is brewing in your life?

art house co-op, the jar project and me

Those wonderfully creative folks over at the Art House Co-op!
One just has to love their way of thinking about the world & life & art...

Those lovely people are always sending something most*interesting up my front walk.

Last year I did The Sketchbook Project with a TON of artist from all around the world.

This ENTIRE project traveled all around the US of A.
I ventured out myself to view The Sketchbook Tour 2011 in Seattle with two fun friends.

Last week I submitted a photo--as part of The Meal--to help the Art House Co-op focus attention on Action Against Hunger.

This month, along with 199 other artist from all over the map, we are filling little glass jars with stories.

{{ this is NOT a drug test,
so poppy seeds on my bagels will cause me No Harm ...
i am just saying ... so do not even make a comment about THAT ...}}

Yes.
I am thinking now of a story to tell in my jar
as after I return it there will be a Big Display for the multitudes of Boston & the surrounds.

Making a wee world in a jar should pose no problem for moi.

I am a Collector of Things Common & Free
which I carefully & with very little thought what-so-ever
preserve in jars of all sizes & shapes for scientific observation & artistically*correct sketching.

My Cabinet of Curiosities.

{{ Before I return The Jar would you like to see my story?
I am thinking
Of the Sea     OR     From My Heart
hummmm ... }}

collecting little red*wings

Clearly, clearly in another life*time I was a scientist who walked beaches collecting shells for naming.

I was a scientist who harvested seeds for drawing, not for planting.

I carefully pocketed acorns & seed pods & hoped for the best as far as insects were concerned.

I tried to stay away from poison ivy & poison oak & Certain Evil Snakes.

Audubon & Darwin were Great Friends of mine but I only wanted the cast off pieces of old nature.

I did not want the need of killing things to look inside.

And to this day my desires are simple.
I want to look Close Up at the beauty of seeds & shells & left~over nature bits.

I want to share them with you.

haiku my heart under the trees

held captive by her...
Dancing White Flower Blossom,
ghost child of some nymph

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

it must be Friday!
please visit us
over here
with recuerda mi corazon  
if you have time
because
we would like it if you could...

what i wore to the oscars last night

I am nothing if not Fashionable over here in my north Florida home minutes from the sea.

After much FB chat yesterday concerning what I should wear to the Academy Awards last night, I fell into my old stand by...

Yes, as always, when in a pinch, I decided on Craft Casual for my Oscar watching attire.

After only 2 crochet lessons under my belt, I decided I was ready to take off on my own armed with Chain, Double Crochet and Shell Stitch.

Welcome to Miss Striped Afghan!

"...And who are you wearing? " Tim Gunn asks, leaning in for a closer look at the striped afghan placed seductively in my lap. I am sitting on the floor crocheting in front of my TV. It was so thoughtful of Tim to pop in.

"Well, Tim, I am wearing a silky soft bamboo blend by Caron in shades of ocean spray, dark driftwood and stormy blue," I answer breathlessly, holding my matching green~metalic Boye crochet hook, 5.50mm, delicately in my right hand.

My right leg slides out coyly from underneath the draped Project~in~Progress.

"I am so happy to be here!" I tell Tim honestly, reaching for another skein of green sheen.

{{  I think Angelina Jolie got that leg idea from me, but I could be wrong... }}

haiku my heart with anything goes

the country hen sits,
then six brown eggs come to me.
{{ possibilities }}

~~~~~**~~***

every friday we limit our words
because, well,
haiku is fun,
we love The Challenge
and, frankly, call us strange
but
we like to hang out with each other this way...

please visit us
over here
with recuerda mi corazon,
if have the chance.

 

 

on valentine's day there are always two kinds of people

Today, on Valentine's Day, there are always two kinds of people in the world.

There are those who are in love and there are those who are not.

There are those who are in love and want to tell the world.

And, there are those who are in love and want to keep it a secret.

There are those who are in love and want to tell the world and so they buy cards and chocolate and flowers and fancy dinners out.

They might even hire a sky*writer to spell I LOVE YOU up beside the fluffy clouds.

Also, there are others, like moi, who might get out red-handled scissors and make little hearts from lacey paper doilies and decorate them with sparkly glitter.

Or, maybe they recently learned to crochet wee, red and white hearts and whilst watching Downton Abbey  they make a china bowl full of hearts to give away.

Yes, there are always two kinds of people in the world.

There are those who make valentines with wee, red and white crocheted hearts and mail them out On Time so as they will be received today, on Valentine's Day.

And, then
there are those who make valentines with wee, red and white crocheted hearts BUT FORGET to mail them out On Time.

Fortunately for me,
I hand delivered my valentine to mysweet mom yesterday...

For the rest of you, this one is for you!

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! }}

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!

open letter to santa and his plumber elves

Dear Santa,
Some times you crack me up over here with your sense of humor and spot~on timing...

Yes.
Life is grand!
And I DO like a happy surprise every now and then...

However.
Every single year, right before Christmas, you bring me a wee Unexpected Gift of  The Unrequested Nature...

In case you have forgotten...

Last year you brought me that Persistant Case of Poison Ivy a few days before Christmas which was quite a puzzle as I had not worked outside in my garden in weeks.

Even Dr. David was surprised.

"Sometimes the oil from the poison ivy plant can come inside on your dog's paw," the kind doctor explained.

I had not the heart to tell him we have no furry pet...

The year before that you brought me An Abscessed Tooth which later required a root canal and a crown of the sort not worn on one's head.

Dentist Bob seemed almost joyful.

"You should be happy this happened before Christmas as I always go skiing in Colorado for two weeks, leaving on the 24th, " the thoughtful doctor explained.

"We can drill this out before I leave," he went on enthusiastically.

"Yippeee!" I distinctly remember saying in my head, as my mouth was filled completely with dental detritus.

"Yippeee!"

To put it all in perspective, Santa, I guess I really should be happy that this year you brought me Water Pipe Difficulties.

At least I am not in any physical pain except for the checking*writing kind...

BTW,  not to be picky or anything, but the plumber from Monday was not very friendly. Also, he smashed my arugula whilst digging his plumbing hole.

I cannot remember his name but the one here today is quite nice actually.

Up until this week I had never stood in my bathroom with a Polish guy named Les so this has been a new experience for me.

Most likely for him, too.

"Are the Christmas pompoms in your way?" I asked pleasantly, moving the red yarn banner casually to one side as we enter the bathroom.

"The what?" Les replied, appearing somewhat stymied.

I did not know the Polish word for pompoms.

As I'm writing this to you now, Les is singing Polish Christmas carols in my upstairs bathroom whilst the toilet rests gently sideways on the floor.

I am not complaining one little bit, Santa.
"Thank goodness for plumbers!" I have always said...

Soon, very soon, I hope, my bathroom will be lovely and functioning. The sink will have shining new fixtures. The toilet will be newly refurbished.

Just in time for the holidays! That will be an unexpected treat! Life is good!

Plus, when all is said and done plumbing~wise, I may have scored enough American Express Rewards Points for a free airplane ride in 2012.

Who can say the reason for some things?

Merry Christmas, Santa!
I am over here hoping for only good things in your future!
I am wish you no abscessed teeth, no poison ivy, no water pipe difficulties, no smashed arugula!

Seriously...

Next year I am hoping for a new beach~bike.
Just so you will know...

Fondly {{ and with Extreme Gratitude
for Doctors, Dentists & Plumbers Everywhere
this Holiday Season}},
somepinkflowers

haiku my heart and moose wanders by

Christmas Crafting here!
reds, greens, yarn, fabric...waiting...
{{  jOy in construction }}

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

haiku my heart loves a virgin a day, part 2

plastic flower love,
behind rusted window bars,
Your peace still shines on...

over here we honor the madonna--
as an offering of beauty & light--
during the first 12 days of december.

i hope you have a moment to visit a few...