somepinkflowers

just when you need one

For the longest time I have wanted a dog but the time never seems right.

A person who is owned by a dog must occasionally be home for the canine. For walkies. For food. For the mandatory bathroom break. Must be home for the roly-poly on the ground, lovey-dovey kind of stuff.

So often I am not. Home.

I have Spike-the-Cat who loves me when he happens upon me while patrolling the homestead.

When I was face-down for healing he was all over me like a cheap suit. I was an easy target for his plop-down ways. Approach. Jump. Circle. Plop.

I wore an eye patch in those healing days and Spike-the-Cat hair on my backside.

 

A cat can be left alone for a few days if his bathroom door is left open, his food and water supply overly abundant.

A cat might not even know you are gone.

"Oh, there you are!" he will say with a yawn when you come home feeling all guilty over the 3-day abandonment.

"I thought you were upstairs..." he will explain and then go into his routine. Approach. Jump. Circle. Plop.

I have had to depend on the kindness of friends and strangers when it comes to finding dog*love.

I blog hop from one friend's pooch to another. I love them all with equal abandon. I can imagine their nails clicking on the hardwood floor. Their wet slobbery kisses better than a frog's.

Almost daily my neighbors offer to let me take their pups on walks. I am the god-mother to many.

"Here!" they say, thrusting a worn leash into my empty hand. The pup looks over his/her shoulder, gives a nod of happy recognition and then moves on.

In real life, dogs show up and recognize me for who I am: A similar, fluffy-haired being who, while missing her doggy shadow, can be trusted for a warm smile and a friendly touch.

For the longest time I have wanted a dog and now, day-by-day, I have so many.

dia de bloglandia, me and my daddy

Pure honey, pure sweet honey, pure sweet Tupelo honey.

A last memory. Feeding honey to my dad near the end.

From my finger in the jar into his open bird mouth. Tongue reaching out.

For such a long time sugar was not allowed. Birthday cakes only. Little slivers of celebration.

Blood was tested, levels measured and meds swallowed.

Sneaky tastes of  sweets hidden when my dad discovered my mom's sugar stash.

About 10 months ago, with all the other health issues, sugar no longer seemed a Big Deal.

Besides. My dad never could remember WHY he could not eat sugar.

With Alzheimer's for my dad's constant shadow so many things were a mystery to him.

"Sometime I forget," he would say, shaking his head and smiling.

Somethings I will never forget. Or, rather, hope I never do.

My dad carrying me into the house from the car when I was so dozy from a long ride.

Half-way awake, half-way a sleep but all the way cared for and loved.

Summertime. Walking in the evening to the baseball game.

Sitting in the gloaming, cheering and watching moths pirouette and high dive under the stadium lights. More cheering.

My hand in my dad's on the walk home in the dark night. Feeling safe.

Early morning walks on the beach while others slept in late. The beach wide at low tide, shells galore. Too many to count. I wanted them all. Pockets stuffed full.

Catching fish with my daddy.

"Get it off!" I said when I was 4 , making a face at a 3" bream.

{{I know because my mom wrote that on the back of the B&W. "Get it off!" she wrote in quotes.}}

About a year ago my dad stopped being hungry. He was always full.

One mouthful of his favorite soup and he was done.

"I cannot eat all this," he would say.

My sister and I would give each other Looks.

My mom would say,"Am I not a good cook? You always liked my cooking."

I would lie and say, "Time for lunch!" even though we had had lunch only one hour before.

That is the thing about Alzheimer's. Sometimes you can use it to your advantage if you are willing to tell little white lies.

"Here is some beer, Daddy. You like beer!" I would say, handing him a frosted stein of apple juice.

"Ohhh. It is flat!" he would say, facing a face.

"We will buy you more," I would lie cheerfully, handing him a bit of cheddar.

With my dad. Raking oak leaves into piles. Jumping. Playing with my little sister in the piles. Rolling in them. Itching and laughing from it all. Leaf bits on my pillow in the morning.

Throwing a baseball in our front yard. My hand lost inside a leather mit 8 sizes too large. I can smell it now.

Teaching me to ride a 2-wheeler in our sloping drive-way.

"You can do it!" echos still in all I try.

Building a kite from balsa and newspapers. Waiting for the white glue to dry. Learning how to wait. Winding the string into a ball.

Walking to the open field near our house to fly the kite away from power-lines.

Always safely looked over. Always loving encouraged.

"No,these biscuits are not too dry," he would lie to me when I was working on my cooking badge. The biscuits turning to dust under his gentle touch.

"These biscuits are just right!" my daddy would say, telling me a little white lie.

And so near the end, when I knew The End was standing down the hall I fed my daddy sugar. Little bits of sweetness as his stomach was always so full for too much.

Maybe too full from too much life, too much pain, too much forgetfulness. 

I don't know. I think he was just done.

Max 

October 29, 1923       February 21, 2009

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

So on this Day of the Dead I remember my daddy. I remember all these things--->the beach, the bike, the ball, the kite. Plus more.

My head and heart are filled with the natural sweetness of shared experiences stretched over a life time. My head and my heart are just the right amount of full.

I remember feeding my daddy pure honey, pure sweet honey, pure sweet Tupelo honey from my finger stuck into a jar. I remember his face so happy to taste sugar.

Such a better memory that feeding him sugar-free, lime jello from a little plastic cup.

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

Other Dia de Bloglandia postings are listed HERE

You will want to visit them all.

i am treating you {{with help from my friends}} to a bit of one-eyed halloween magic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~I am needing all the help I can get over here!~~~

My recipe for one-eyed Halloween fun:

* one mini-me somepinkflowers witch by Susanna Sketchbook
who was inspired over here {{ don't i look fabulous!}},
* crows by Martha Stewart at Michaels yesterday,
* candy corn by Brock at Target last week,
* owl box by Punch Studio at Marshall's last year and
* little magic trees from over here.  {{ i so love a good recipe!}}

And  for an amazing & evocative adventure go here and for another witchy tale pop in over here and for a Haunting Treasure Book sublime go here and for a seasonal taste of Orange do drop in here and so on....

bonnie raitt, bubble and me

Lately I have found such comfort in Being Clueless.

For the longest time I thought that pleasure thrived and blossomed in Knowing.

Not being one of those kinds of ponies, I have learned a new trick. Maybe you already know about the freedom that comes from Giving Up Control. My sister has been preaching this to me for years.

Me? I have come late to that altar.

When the bubble moved into my left eye to work its magic I was all "Oh, no-ish!" but put on a brave front to get it fixed, fast. A brave front wearing a bit of an eye-patch for weeks.

I traveled no where but to FaceDownLand where all things are acceptable style-wise.

Thank goddess.

Everything wonderful depends on vision over here in my world.

Well, Vision and Voice are my 2 big things, really.

But you know that.

And then there is Listening, too.

When I found out Bonnie Raitt was going to be giving a concert here earlier this year I was beside myself with happiness. Her voice just carries me away.

Plus, her heart seems strong and sure.

I have followed Bonnie Raitt for years and years and so on.

As Leslie emailed it so perfectly to me, "Oh, I love her. I had all of her albums when I had albums."

Me, too! Only I motored on up to her CDs when they came out, having learned my ways with 8-tracks and knowing my personal weakness to own music.

Bonnie Raitt concert tickets went on sale while I was in the midst of family stuff and things with my dad. Other things took all the space in my heart. I could not plan that far down any road.

The concert tickets were quickly sold out.

Then, as life is apt to do, things changed.

I cannot remember the details but something happened in Bonnie Raitt's life. I think she was in the midst of family stuff and things. Maybe other things took all the space in her heart and she could not sing.

So, she had to change the date of her concert. Moved it from earlier in the spring until now in October.

Well, those with tickets already for the spring had their turn to snap up the seats. Then quickly, quickly THIS concert was sold out, too.

But you know me. I am ever hopeful. I just put it on the back burner and moved on. 

Then spring and summer happened and I traveled and beached and worked.

One day Susan at work gave me a Bright Idea. "We should be volunteers at the Amphitheatre!"

So that very day my application was in the mail and soon I was seated at a volunteer meeting.

I love how life works out sometimes.

I was set for big things! To view and hear great things!

Then Hole-in-the-Retina showed up and made me humble. You will never know how humble.

Hole-in-the-Retina took away my vision in trade for a possibly healing bubble and put me out of action for the longest time.

With a right eye seeing for far vision, my left eye now had fishbowl vision. Specks of black flotsam swim around in there where no goldfish dares to go. 

I am calling the black floaty stuff eye*confetti. A homecoming parade for my sweet Vision. When it arrives, there will be celebration. I will let you know.

This past week I started back to work slowly where everyone was so thoughtful and helpful. I just cannot tell you how fortunate I am. Truly. 

In the midst of weird&blurry vision I have surrounded my self --without even knowing how--by loving and understanding friends and c0-workers.

I am so touched how even strangers soldier on up to help the bumbly-stumbly.

Saturday I drove for the first time in weeks. It is 3 right turns, a few miles straight and then one left turn and I am at work.

I know, I know. I should have given Fair Warning. Especially as the few miles straight is on US1.

Remember, the bubble in my eye is smaller every day. Now I am looking through only about 1/3 rd of a fishbowl.

Saturday Night was the Bonnie Raitt concert. I was there as a volunteer. My first night out with bubble. We had the best time. Just me and bubble and Bonnie Raitt and hundreds of people with various imperfections, some visual, some not so.

I was a Stairway Greeter. This meant I stood where folks walk into the amphitheater and look at their tickets trying to read the little numbers of where to find their assigned seating.

"What do I do now?" is written all over the faces of those new to this venue. I had my little flash-light and COULD SEE the floaty numbers.

My job as 4th in line, after arms are waved and fingers pointed, my job was this--->
"Ladies restrooms are to the right; Gentlemen are to the left."  And this---> "Please take advantage of all the fine concessions.  Step right this way, please away from the stairs!"

That is all the time allowed for loquaciousness.

We loved that concert. Me and my bubble. And hundreds of other people. {{And I discovered this one, the warm-up guy, for the first time--->  Who knew?}}

Still, I am not seeing my best but loving life with a different vision, the same voice.

Lately I have found such comfort in Being Clueless. So many of us are. I fit right in.

I had the quietest Sunday on record. I took my audio book from Elizabeth B and went for a lovely walk. I took these shots with my little Canon set on Who Knows What.

I had the quietest Sunday on record and late last night I found my cell had been set to Silent from before the concert the night before. {{ Sorry about that, Constance. Sorry I missed your call but you went with me anyway and here it is. }}

Embracing my cluelessness I walk on.

BTW, did you know that a person can get poison ivy by playing lovingly with dogs that have been tromping in the fall breeze down by the creek?

Me neither...

{{ but now i know }}

a hauntingly magical celebration

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

If you think life is grand, if you do not want to miss a thing, then go to Vanessa's Hauntingly Magical Celebration.

She was so thoughtful to dream up this stellar event. We all do love her so!

Then pop in here and here and here and here...

Oh. Yes. Sign my guest book and leave a wish. It might come true.
Who is to say?

to U from FaceDownLand

Always,  always, always and without fail it is about Time.

Time moves too quickly or not fast enough. There is never enough of it when I am doing a thing I enjoy. There is an over-abundance when I am suffering in some fashion, with some real or imagined pain.

I am not telling you anything new here. Time shines on all of us in her own way.

The day the tea-colored shadow appeared in my left eye, the exact day my uninvited Blurry Place arrived, I blew it off.

"Here today, gone tomorrow!" I thought of the unfocused center of my vision. I dismissed it like an unwelcome drop of water on my camera lens. It would evaporate if I remained patient.

"Forget about it!" I decided with my ever-hopeful attitude.

All I needed to do was wait.

Mr. Blur would sneak off as easily and quietly as he had tip-toed in.

Later, after Blur has moved away--say in a day or 2, or so I thought at the Time! HA!--I will look back and shake my head.

"Aaahhh...A sign to slow down, certainly," I will reflect with newly-found wisdom.

Yes. I will be So Wise when Blur has flown the coop.

I had it all planned how I would be somber and appreciative. I would have learned my lesson to Slow Down and not try to do Too Much. I would rest my eye for a Time away from books and computer screens and camera view-finders.

I could not WAIT for Blur to leave so I could be repentant.

After a Time I learned a new normal. I learned how to see around Blur. 

Plus, my right eye jumped in to take up the slack. {They are such a team, those 2!} 

But this plum wore out my right eye as I forced her into over-time.

I am not complaining here.

Right Eye was forced into doing the work of 2 and she soldiered on in non-grumpy military fashion.

I could not ask for a more understanding and willing eye. {After this adventure is behind us Right Eye will receive the much coveted Eye Did It All scout badge.}

"Hey, somepinkflowers, what gives over there across the nose?" Right Eye finally spoke up for her rights after a week or 2.

"I need some help here before I peter out, so to speak." She went on.

"OK," I replied and called in the Eye Doctor troops.

It seemed Blur had moved in to stay. There was danger he might even invite a friend or 2 to move in with him.

Yikkees!

Medical attention arrived on the scene. A plan was hatched.

I told you a bit about it over here.

Then it became a Waiting Game.

I was living in a count-down world ---->3 weeks to eye surgery.

So I made the best of my Time.

As luck would have it, my HP decided to crash in sweet-but-untimely-empathy for my Left Eye with its unwanted Blur.

The thing just crashed right on down.

Not 2 be undone, taking it as a sign to shop, I rushed right out and bought one of these.

If I needed surgery, if after surgery I must look DOWN for weeks and weeks; well, then, I would look DOWN into a lap-top screen as soon as my doctor allowed.

I know.

I am so very good at reading the signs that do pop up from time-to-time.

A big fan of signs pointing to the purchase of modern devices, I am equally at home in many retail establishments. Everyone smiles when I walk in. They know me and my BFF.

 

Yes. After surgery I would need to live in FaceDownLand so that a magic bubble of gas could heal my vision. From the outside I would look the same but deep, deep within my eye a teeny bubble would be inserted. {I will spare you the Halloweenie details...Why, you R welcome!}

My throne would be a massage table with a face-cradle to support my heavy-with-thoughts-and-dreams head. {Thank you ever-so much, dear Carolyn, for the use of your spare table. I can NEVER, EVER thank you enough.}

 

Yes. Always,  always, always and without fail it is about Time.

Today I am cheating Time.  Ssshhhh...

After the surgery I was to spend 14 days away from the computer screen. For 50 out of every 60 minutes I am to be living in my FaceDownWorld but 2day I am spending my 10 minutes of UpTime, 10minutes of  my off-the-table-time looking down into my lap-top.

Today is only day #12. I am jumping the gun here. What is Time, reaaallly, a day or 2 one way or the other?

So am I ACTUALLY cheating as I LookDown into my lap-top?

Ssshhhhh...

 

While my left eye is dilated and protected by a bit of a patch, my right eye is having a go at things on her 10 minute break.

Right Eye simply needed to fly.

And so do I.

 

In the 3 weeks before I moved to FaceDownLand, like the good scout that I am, I prepared myself.

Yes, I bought the lap-top but I also stocked up on faith and on these and on this.

I checked out books on tape. I rigged a double mirror reflecting system so I could watch TV through my face-cradle.

I cleaned my house from top to bottom and weeded the garden, as best I could what with Blur along for the ride. This is what all good Southern Girls do. They do not want to put anybody out even in the midst of personal challenge. Especially in the midst of personal challenge.

"Well, if I die on the operating table I do not want my sister to have to wash the sheets," a Southern girl will say to herself. Southern Girls will mop the kitchen floor on the way to giving birth.

Maybe you were born and raised in North Dakota or in north Hollywood and you do the same thing up and over there.

Maybe it is not a Southern Girl thing at all. I do not know about other places but this is how we are Down Here.

"Oh, look," a Southern Girl will say, "CNN reports a meteor is going to crash into my house at midnight, I wonder if I have time to make a plate of fudge to take to the shelter before I leave?"

Anyway. I prepared myself, my family, my friends, my pantry. I bought 7 bags of kitty-litter to be on the safe side. You never know with Spike.

Then I got my head ready.

I projected Paris. I projected me in Paris in the spring. Next spring. 2010 spring.

I designed and fashioned this Paris clock and set it with French Time. A new count-down began.

I see myself with 2 good eyes looking up at the Eiffel Tower. I will be stretched out there on the grass looking up at her bathed in glowing night-lights. There will be a full moon sitting on her shoulder.

A glowing, roundy moon with no tea-colored shadow appearing in my left eye will be smiling down at me.

I can just C it.

Always,  always, always and without fail it is about Time.

Paris time sits ticking on my wall as I am back in FaceDownLand.

My 10 minutes of UpTime has now passed me by. I am manifesting through my face-cradle as you read this. { I promise, Nurse Karen, I am FaceDown!} I am manifesting Paris.

Of course I am.

The full moon in Paris will be there when Mr. Blur has skipped town, when my bubble has disappeared and when I can safely fly again. I can C it all perfectly.

If not 2010, then 2011. 

I am ever-hopeful.

no beach boys, just on~line learning with rochambeau

Shadows are getting longer over here in my neighborhood.

Kids have picked up the last beach treasures and headed on back to the classroom.

{ Yipppeee! }

I bet where you live the nights are getting cooler and the leaves are getting ready to make a colorful splash. Not so much down here.

Fall makes me think of new beginnings. Going back to college. Back to stretching my brain.

Some of my peeps are off over here doing arty things. I so wanted to go there, too.

Maybe next year.

Sometimes I feel like I need to be cloned or I will never get everything accomplished.

How can I take care of all the old responsibilities and still have time to learn some new tricks? How? How to transform 24 hours into 28?

Then I remember that is what friends are for.

They help each other out. From time-to-time, they lend a hand.

One hand holds the cell phone, the other stretches across the miles.

Friends share. Encourage. Push us to try One More Time.

"Just click on the quick select tool," a friend might suggest. "Do you see the marching ants?"

Before I know it----> zoooom I am back in school myself.

Learning something fun tastes like dark chocolate to me. Like dark chocolate with raspberry filling.

 

No endless summer over here in my neighborhood. A person cannot work on a tan all year long, after all.

Beaches are sitting mostly empty. Long shadows push me inside to learn a yummy skill. A new play~toy beacons.

Me and my peeps are trying new art~thingies. Some of us are together in the same place. Some of us are not. Across the miles we teach and learn and grow.

I love how that can happen.

isaiah zagar, the steve miller band and me

'Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future.'

So the song goes.

One day I am making up my list of Things To Do:

1. Clean out the attic and sell old stuff on eBay.
2. Take the money and go to Italy for a month.
3. Come home and set up a blog for Creative Inspiration.

And so I did that. All the things on my list. 1,2,3

Well, it did take a bit of time.

I have a HUGE attic, BTW...

I cleaned and sold and traveled for a while.

I came home and set up my blog.

Slowly things began to happen...

After a while I met other bloggers.

I popped into a blog and it fit right. And then I found another and another and so on.

{{ Maybe this has happened to you. }}

I was hooked...

People were reading great books that I liked, too.

They were shooting amazing photographs that inspired me to use my camera more. They were creating like crazy. Whipping up my imagination with words.

I was thrilled...

After a while it was bound to happen.

I meet up with a blogger~friend and we had a swell time talking blog~chat and about things and people we both liked.

It was as if we were long~time friends from 3rd grade, as if we had camped out together in Girl Scouts.

Then I was fortunate enough to meet another blogging friend.

We had a camera~shooting adventure together and did lunch and so on.

A perfectly perfect day!

Let me say this, just in case you did not know---->No one uses a camera like a fellow blogger.

Not one single non~blogger I have ever met.

Click times 10 on steroids. Click, click, CLICK...

The next thing I knew, time was slipping, slipping, into the future.

I was on a plane flying to Philly to meet up with more camera~shooting bloggers.

Even thought it is not specifically on my list of Things To~Do, I am always up for making new friends.

Especially friends who know how to kitchen dance, friends with whom I can create.

We had the best time ever...

'I want to fly like an eagle to the sea' because I do not want to miss a thing.

I cannot be everywhere, but now I have the eyes of my friends to capture things for me to enjoy.

The whole wide world is mine...

Click, click, click...

Sometimes I can jump on an airplane or in my jeep and zoom off to see different places for myself.

I can click, click, click and then come home and share  with others who also do not want to miss a thing either.

It makes me so happy to take you places with me.

Isn't life grand!

Because you cannot be everywhere, now you have the eyes of  friends to capture things for you to see.

The whole wide world is yours...

Together we can give each other the whole wide world.

Sometimes I cannot believe my good fortune to have met you all, to travel your world, to see your art, to read your words.

Thank you ever~so...

For sharing both the process and the journey.

I am so inspired.

'Let my spirit carry me'

"Check this out!" one dear friend did say.

And even though one year ago I did not know her, now I do.

If her eyes catch something for me to see, I will not want to miss it...

Happy Birthday to my Blog!

It has taken me everywhere. It has taken me by surprise. It has taken me to you.

'I want to fly like an eagle til I'm free...'

looking up for a sign

Last evening before the gloaming took its turn at the day, I charged up the 12V for my Black & Decker Quantum Pro cordless power drill and sent out a silent plea to the green~flash Florida sky.

A screw needed minor adjustment inside my white jeep, Blue, and nothing satisfies more that the use of a good power tool. Especially a tool long time rested in a dusty case sitting on an even dustier garage shelf.

Even though a simpler tool might have accomplished the job, it was the heft of the B&D I wanted. If you know what I mean.

All week it has been one thing after another for Blue with her persistent little needs.

New tires, new alignment, new valve gasket cover -----> new this, new that, NEW EVERY THING.

Never wants, always needs with my Blue.

Was it time? Was she trying to tell me something I did not want to hear?

Then to make matters worse, and isn't that always the way, I received an unsolicited letter in the mail.

"Now is the time!" the uninvited notice did shout, " Every one qualifies! 0% APR for 72 months on selected models! Step right up for your 'Cash for Clunkers' trade in!"

What?

What? What? What?

Cash for Clunkers trade in ?       What?

CLUNKER? 

Say it is not so! Not my sweet, ten~year old ride!   My Blue is practically pristine and she takes me every where I want to go that does not require air travel.

No! Not a clunker, my white jeep named Blue!

Confident with the solid weight of the B&D in my hand, I sent out a question to The Universe.

"Oh, heavens above, tell me what to do, please." I sent out my question in a clear and precise manner. No dilly~dally here.  "Should I purchase a new car or should I soldier on with my aging Jeep?"

"Grant me wisdom." I requested. Then I paused and searched the sky.

The sky said nothing so I fixed the wobbly screw.

I put the Quantum Pro back to sleep in her sturdy black case.

Then I felt someone looking down at me.

Then I felt 2 someones looking down at me.

"Are you  my sign?" I asked each someone as they sat watching me from the tree tops.

"Whoooo?" they both replied.   {{ Like I did not see that coming... }}

"You!" I answered somewhat impatiently, all the while reaching serendipitously for my beach camera, my some~what sandy point & shoot as it sat there waiting--as always--on the passenger seat of my car.

"New car? Keep the Jeep? Which will it be?" I remained calm, patient and beaming with hope as I waited for the reply.

The light was fading fast. I got off a few sneaky snaps.

Each someone looked at the other someone.

Clearly, neither someone wanted to commit.

"Tell me what to do," I pleaded but did not grovel one little bit.

With blithe unconcern both someones flew quietly away. To snack on a snake, for all I knew.

A single feather drifted down and landed on my Blue. One feather. Bright white tinged with light brown.

On Blue's roof. Back near the bicycle rack.

My sign.

out my front door and down the steps where the lizards live

In my front yard where the joyweed grows bright red leaves but not one single flower...

Where the basil and the rosemary live side by side in quiet contemplation, completely unconcerned about their dinner~time fate....

Where the black and blue sage blooms and blooms and answers to no one as it spreads its seeds willy~nilly into the lawn...

Where somepinkflowers grow in spite of my resent neglect as I am now so poison~ivy weary...

Where somepinkflowers grow bold and brassy and try to outshine others as if dressing for the senior prom...

There on the old brick path the arrogant but warned grasshoppers begrudgingly jump aside when I go walking.

There near the old brick walkway the lizards snooze on warm days and sniff the chocolate mint leaves on cool nights.

There on the old brick walk some times I find little treasures left by jewelry~making Florida faeries.

You heard me right.

Jewelry~making Florida faeries.

Well, I hardly ever actually SEE the jewelry~making Florida faeries but I strongly believe a few live under my front porch. A family of them.

From my porch swing on a still and starry night I have overheard their happy laughter.

Sometimes they sound like crickets when they dance.

Because I am so kind and do not mind when the jewelry~making Florida faeries munch on my purple-leaved Okinawa spinach, they give me sweet necklaces made with the trinkets they BORROW from my secret stash.

I think it is a fair trade.

A fair faerie trade.

Does that happen to you where you live?

Do things appear without warning that make you smile and feel all glowy inside?

Sometimes I cannot believe my good luck.

Sometimes I feel the key to  happiness is to look closely at all the little things around me.

I wonder how small things can make me smile all day when I hold them in my heart.

Fat lizards sunning and somepinkflowers blooming and other teeny things that really seem to make no difference in the big, wide world.

To me they matter.

OK. OK. OK.

Sometimes the jewelry~making Florida faeries make the sweet necklaces with the trinkets.

And sometimes it is just me.

do you know this stylish lady?

Me neither but isn't she wonderfully?

I passed her whilst crossing a bridge and she stole my imagination plum away.

Can you see how her pearl earrings match the buttons on her coat? How her cuffs are turned up just so? Notice the woven olive pattern on her purse? The bit of pink brightness on her plaid skirt peaking out with each step?

Plus, I am such a sucker for shades of green framing a pink flower.

As she descended into the crowd at the after Sunday services antique tag~sale, my eyes followed her on.

I wanted to have her for my auntie. I wanted to be invited to her home for afternoon tea and Italian sweets. I wanted to peak into her closet and play in her jewelry box.

But I knew I would never see her again.

I am such a sucker for shades of green framing a pink flower.

And these pink flowers above I send out today to a Way Much Younger stylish lady. Do you know this one who finds the best things to share with one hand while whipping up wearable art with the other?

Well, today is her birthday so do pop in when you can. Leave her a message as she is much like an Italian sweet herself.  Now she may be traveling but leave a note anyway.

Oh happy day, missy.

while the dreams play on

I do not know if his name is Leo or Leon but it does not matter in this instance.

He knew his place was to stand guard over the pale and resting princess while she slept. While the dreams played on.

Not an usual job really if you stop to think about it.  He was not the sort of lion to whimpily accompany a pale and confused princess down a garden path. That was not his style for this guard lion was Truly Magnificent and Brave.

Magnificent and Brave beasts all around the world stand guard over beautiful ladies. They tend to inspire. They often provide companionship and encourage creativity.

That type of thing...

Her story is a common one. Nothing magical about it really.

This pale and weary princess had been standing on her feet all day posing in the garden. Now the heat was so unbearable she could not accept to be draped in even the thinnest of cloth.

And haven't we all had days like that? I know I have.

"I will just curl up against this cool stone and snooze for a bit,"  the pale and exhausted princess thought to herself. "With my winged lion standing guard I will be fine. Even bad dreams will not reach me. When I awake we can both go out for  pizza."

And snooze on she did. While her lion stood ever vigilant. You know how they do.

Thank goodness she was wearing sunscreen, is all I can say. It must have been 95 spf for she did not turn red or even one shade of pink.

The pale and sleepy princess did however have the most amazing dreams...

She dreamed not of a handsome prince who would kiss her tenderly but she dreamed instead of owning a valid passport, one that would be accepted in every country around the globe.

She dreamed of owning 1,000,000,000,000 never~expiring American Express Reward Points suitable for redemption on the airlines of her choice.

She dreamed of owning the lightest of all carry~on that could manage all her shoes with ease and still fit comfortably in most over~head bins.

When she dreamed of owning Time Unlimited she stirred a bit, restless in her sleep, ready to be moving on, eager to hit the trail...

"Oh, the places I will go!" she muttered in her sleep. "The things I will see!"

She was a pale and Venetian princess, after all, and longed for more exotic venues.

"Oh, dear," the guard lion whispered, heaving his wings in familiar resolution. Clearly he had heard it all before. Maybe a couple of times. Or more.

"Here we go again!" he went on, "If she mentions this place one more time I might hurl."

"Ssshhhhhh," I say to the somewhat impatient guard lion as he soldiers on.

"Hush!" I continue, "Please do not wake the pale and travel~hungry princess. Just look at the smile on her sweet face. Such contentment we should all possess."

Instead, to you, my dear readers, there with a smile of understanding on your own dreamy face,  I say this ----->Do leave here suggestions of an exotic city , a country town, a mountain retreat  where the pale and curious princess might enjoy a visit.

Lean in close and whisper lightly into her pale and receptive ear. Breath names of locations full of roundy vowels and heaping with possibilities. No place is too far away, no place is too nondescript.

Like so many of us these days, this pale and hopeful princess does not want to miss a thing. Even while the dreams play on...

somepinkflowers and the mad tea party

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

 

  

 

  

  

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

If you do not want to miss a thing, please drop in over here for the Mad Tea Party.

It does not matter what you wear {{ oh no! }} or who you bring with you as long as your imagination comes along for the ride. Hope to see you there but please do leave a comment here, because, well, you never know...

Last year we had such fun and this kind of Madness only happens once a year. OK, well, maybe only once every other month or maybe every week in some places but I cannot speak for everybody...

Isn't life grand!

♥♥♥for Amazing Alice Wonders click here!

♥♥♥for Mad Tea Party Style click here!

♥♥♥for a Teeny Tea Party click here!

sweets on pine street and an invitation, too

I don't know about over there at your house but over here we believe strongly that enchantment is good for the soul.

In the same way I know that biodiversity is good for the pond, I know that logic and magic hold hands and take turns pushing each other on the swing.

I just know it. For a fact. We should all dip our toes into many different oceans.

Or something like that...

About enchantment. I am not saying that unicorns frolic down by the creek but from my front porch everyday I see dogs walking around smiling to beat the band.

Clearly their eyes twinkle, they look at me and they smile. All dogs just know things.

Do not even get me started on the mystical ways of my cat...

I do not have a fairy~godmother but I do have several friends that are sharp with needle and thread and could whip me up a ball gown in the blink of an eye.

If I should need one. Which I do not.

Those that live among us have their super powers and their wondrous ways...

If you have been out and about over here or over here or over here you might have noticed the invitations to Vanessa's Mad Tea Party.

When Vanessa is not sharing her amazing adventures and painting yummy treats, she gives the best parties, I must say!

All sorts of cutie creatures zoom in from miles around.

Why, even her cupcakes will make you swoooon....

Last year at the Mad Tea Party we had the best time visiting each other. Sharing festive tea~time snacks and colorful sweets. Some folks dressed to high heaven and some did not.

Here is the best part---> You are invited. I know. Isn't it wonderful!

Vanessa is an equal~opportunity, come~one, come~all, kind of hostess...

 

Over here on Pine Street we are getting ready for the party.

Mark your calendar, please. The Mad Tea Party is next Saturday and this social event will not be complete without you {{it never is}} so do join us.

I would find it so enchanting if you did...

tender is the night when you shower the people you love with love

We both had wandered through this world but I never expected to find him here waiting for me.

He never said a word. People just go where they will. And then he turned up here.

From the moment I arrived his eyes haunted me from every corner.

Between the darkness on the street. He watched.

Always patient. Sightly smiling. Apart. Cool.

Doctor, my eyes have seen the years and, yet, he looked just the same.

Alone in this watery city, I felt safe as he stood guard over me like I was somebody's baby. A sentry from my innocent years. My ever-present protector.

For one week I felt his presence as I jumped on a vaporetto here, popped into a basilica there.

His voice sang in my head. My own rock~&~roll Where~is~Waldo as I crossed the island one canal at a time.

Then one day, just like that, he was gone. Maybe he had better things on his mine. Who can really say?

His smooth face no longer keeping me company, his eyes no longer watching. In my heart I felt certain I would see him later anyway ...

But, I was not alone for very long...

By the second week of vacation I had a friend.

So comforting to know, as I ventured miles and miles from home, all I had to do was call out his name and wherever he was, he would come running to see me again.

All I had to do was call...

tourist tuesday and under the matanzas inlet bridge at low tide

There are few places I enjoy more than a good island on a warm day.

Minutes from my home is Anastasia Island where I grew up and older and tanner most every summer of my life to date.

A well~known highway called A1A runs through the middle of this long, skinny island.

On the east side of Anastasia Island is the Atlantic Ocean and on the west side is the Intracoastal Waterway which runs down most of the east coast of the USA.

At the southern most end of my summer island is this bridge.

If you follow A1A, it will take you here and here and eventually here.

On the Intracoastal Waterway side of the island you will find mostly private homes  $$$ and razor sharp oyster beds.

But not here on the south end where I am taking you today.

If you want to come here to this beach on the week-end or later in the summer time when school is out, well, just forget about it. Maybe you should just go here instead.

You would not even be able to park near this beach on the week-end  for all the people who know a good thing when they see it.

So. I am taking you here on a Tuesday.

I hope you brought your SPF 15, at the very least.

I am taking you here during low tide so we will have a beach to walk on.

You want high tide, you better be in a kayak or something.

Watch where you step, please. 

If the shorebirds are hanging out on this stretch of beach,  they have priority.

Be mindful, is all I am saying.

Yes, watch where you step and look down.

You will find bits of sea*treasures that are smooth to the touch.

Some of these treasures will want to come home with you which is OK but check your shells carefully.

You might find one of these sleeping inside.

If you do, please put it back where you found it. 

If you put it in your pocket or leave it in your car you might be sorry the next day as salty dead things can smell to high heaven.

Trust me.

As you look around here on the bit of beachy island you will notice 4~wheel~drive trucks parked here. This is OK as they are not harming this area.

The tide brings more sand here day by day. You would not believe how much is deposited here by the tides and currents and the occasional hurricane.

Yes, I know what you are thinking. Sometimes the hurricanes take away what they give.

You never know from year to year.

One year's beach is another year's underwater.

Sea turtles do not nest here as most of the time this beach is under water when the tide comes in.

If a turtle should make a left turn instead of a right and end up here by mistake then the Turtle Patrol will protect the nest.

When I ride my bike on the beach sometimes I come here under the bridge for some cool shade.

If the sand is packed hard it is a pleasure.

If the sand is soft and mushy I have to push my bike or turn around and wait another day.

That's life for you. You never know. 

Every day on this beach is a good day.

Shells sunning. Birds feeding.

Fish swimming in the deep water under the bridge.

Look close into the broken shells and you might find shark's teeth.

What!

Yep, shark's teeth. They are black. 

See that water under the bridge...

Well, shark's teeth come from the sharks that swim there. I have seen them.

I have found the teeth on the beach, I have seen the sharks in the water. Both.

But not on the same day.

Little crabs and shrimp live in the tide pools formed by the pilings.

It is fun to squat down and look into each little tide pool to look for teeny sea critters .

Oysters attach themselves to the pilings.

Oysters make a fine start to a watery neighborhood and soon others move here, too.

Underneath the Matanzas Inlet Bridge is rather a holy place to me.

These pilings remind me of this place and of this place, too, in a way.

I hope you like this island.

I am going to leave you here for a few days while I go off to another island.

Just stay out of the deep water and you will be safe.

Oh, and wear your SPF 15.

Where am I going?

You know how I like to make you guess!

Let me just give you a bit of a clue. It is far, far away and it rhymes with Benice.

That is all I am saying.

i give you these somepinkflowers to celebrate may day

From my front yard to you. ♥
Oh and do watch out for these guys, too, as they might follow the flowers into your house. Consider yourself warned.

{{ I use to do this back in the Olden Days when I was a youngpinkflower. I might start up again though. Do tell me what you think, please. In my neighborhood I am afraid they might get the net. Although, I am not certain anyone would actually notice...}}

oh happy day for random good luck

Dear Mr. Random Number Generator,

Hi, there! How you doing?

It's me, somepinkflowers.

Hope things are going well in your neck of the woods.

Me?

I am great. Things are wonderful.

Loving the beach here during the glorious Florida spring~time weather.

Say, I have been meaning to drop you a line.

Thanks to you and your cousin, Luck~of~the~Draw, I have been making out like a bandit over here for quite sometime.

Yes, I know...

For the longest time it was me griping about never winning anything.

It did seem that way. I guess we all go through a dry spell every now and then.

Sorry about that.

Normally I am like Pollyanna counting her blessings.

"Isn't life grand!" I have been know to say on more than one occasion.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" I have been known to exclaim at the drop of a sunset.

Any little sparkly little thing can set me off.

Seriously. ♥♥♥

You know me...

I never want to miss anything.

I do try to look  on the bright side of most streets I walk down.

I love to sing in the rain providing it does not occur in the midst of a hurricane.

My personal mantra is --->Oh happy day.

{{ But you knew that, didn't you? }}

Anyway, this is about you not me.

Or, rather, about how you have been so kind to me, how you have included me in your warm embrace of luckiness.

I am so thankful, I can not even tell you.

I think it started a few years ago when I won this. 

Man! I was so surprised. You could have knocked me over with a feather!

And, Lord knows, I need all the $$$ help I can in the dental expense department.

So, yes, thanks for that, RNG.

Then I started popping in here to Blog World where I have won so many lovely hand~made treasures that I am afraid to list them or I may seem all braggy, or even somewhat greedy.

Yikes!

How can anypinkflower be so fortunate?

Why, I have no idea.

Mostly, I do not want to change the tide of good fortune that has been coming my way..I am just saying....

As it is, I am looking around now for wood to knock on so my stellar good luck does not change one little bit.

{{ thank goodness for this genuine little wooden box sitting right here:  knock, knock, knock... }}

I love how life comes rushing at you from around a corner.

I just never know what I will find delivered to my door, what will end up sitting on the wall of my garden.

I love how far, far away someone can draw my name out of a hat and then wondrous shiny things arrive and glow into my appreciative heart.

A lovely striped bit of ribbon. A sparkle on a butterfly's wing.

A random name selected with a silent touch.

A piece of paper gently unfolding into the sweet surprise that is my name.

Thanks to you, Mr. Random Number Generator, and  to your cousin, Luck~of~the~Draw!

Thank you both ever~so much. {{ Would you like a fruit basket? I am wondering... }}

Always know that you are both more than welcome at my house any time of the day, any day of the week as long as your gift is a happy one.

Just drop right on in. No need to call ahead. Mi casa su casa, you all.

Sincerely your friend for life,
somepinkflowers

PS--I only wish the entire world could be so lucky but I guess that would take A Fanciful Twist ♥of fate.....

oh happy earth day from a tree~hugger, flower~lover {{which would be me}}

 
"All the trees have that sad~looking moss hanging down," she explained wearily. "It looks like gray ghosts dangling from the trees. We have to get rid of all of it." 

"What?" I asked, the incredulousness dripped from my voice. "What? What? What?"

"Ghosts dangling? Where?" I questioned looking high over my head for spooky things.

I just could not see ghosts dangling to save my soul.

I saw only the draping gracefulness swinging gently from the trees. All the trees of my childhood were thus clothed.

The swinging Spanish moss make me smile with happy remembrance.

 
"That is not the only thing," my new neighbor continued. "All the trees are bent and spread out over everything. Not one is straight."

I looked around at the aging live oak trees, dappled in the sunlight. They were so generously shade giving, these trees. Hanging out peacefully for years and years and years. Growing leaves and dropping them with natural ease. Standing up strong against hurricanes. Framing homes in a picturesque manner.

I loved these guys and their soft gray beards. For the life of me I saw not one thing sad.

I had high hopes for the long and carefree existence of these trees.

Who knew?

One morning I pulled out of my tree-lined driveway, turned right, then right again. On my way to another day.

I drove past  my neighbor's yard with her wonderfully curved, moss-draped trees.

I could not see the future for the trees.

Well, of course you know the story.

One told often up and down my highway here in Florida.

Here today. Gone tomorrow. In spite of rules and regulations. In spite of those who strive to protect the innocent.

Sometimes things happen out of the blue. You might be looking the other way.

In the evening I drove home, turning of off  US1, not expecting One Thing.

Then I saw them.

Men were cutting down my neighbor's wonderfully curved, moss-draped trees.

With a wildly beating heart, I pulled over and shouted above the noise. I waved my arms wildly at the groups of men working their tree eating equipment.

Some men were cutting trees. Some men were chipping bits of limbs in a wood~chomping machine. Some men were pushing green bits into the creek with a bulldozer.

No one heard me, no one saw me.

No one wanted to.

I was standing in my worse nightmare, an apocalyptic one that unfolds around me where I am impotent to make it stop.

I wish I could tell you I calmly did this or that.

I did not. 

I did not Calmly do anything.

I was Totally Reactive and maybe not on my Best Game.

 
After I waved my arms and shouts a bit more I reached for my cell and made one phone call.

Fortunately for me I knew who to call. The number is programmed into my phone because you never know.

On more than one occasion I have been called a tree hugger.

Like that is something bad.

I strive to see the bigger picture.

 
I wish I could tell you that all the trees in my neighbor's back yard were saved but they were not.

I wish I could tell you that no trees were harmed during the happening of this true story but I cannot.

Agencies zoomed over. Action was stopped. Warnings were issued.

Much too late, plans were made to replant and replace.

 
Not in my lifetime will the newly planted trees grow tall into the sun.

Not in my lifetime will the newly planted trees sport gray mossy beards.

Not in my lifetime.

Down the road between where I live and where I work trees have come down with alarming speed. As I drive by I hear the echoes across the places where the trees are missing.

One new development is called Wood Lake.

Ha! All the trees were cleared plum away. The pines were harvested, the oaks were bulldozed. A retention pond was dug into the ground to make a place for all the storm~water runoff.

Impervious surfaces like roof tops and paved roads prevent aquifer recharge. No water trickles down. Water pools and floods with no place to go. A storm~water retention pond does not necessarily make a happy, lovely pond. Not always.

Wood Lake is a place with no trees,  a place with a man~made retention pond now called a lake.

Another new development is called Grand Ravine.

Where are the trees? Why they plowed them right down. What about that ravine? Man~made from dirt piled high to fill a swampy area.

I am so embarrassed for my state sometimes.

 
Another development is called Cottages at Winding Creek.

I popped in to visit one day when the developers had balloons flying and hot dogs roasting to bring in the crowd. They hoped to sway us into buying.

"Hi, there," I said all friendly~like, as I was truly curious. "I came to see your sweet little cottages."

"Oh, dear!" a smooth talking developer replied. "We do not have cottages here. We have condos."

"Well, why ever does your sign say cottages?' I asked a bit perturbed.

"Oh, that!" was the smooth but somewhat embarrassed reply.

"Well, may I please see your winding creek then?" I continued, not to be outdone.

"Oh, that!" was the reply. "Please walk this way."

And so I did.

Way back along the property line, way behind the asphalt parking area, was a teeny creek narrow enough to jump over. If a person could even get near it. If a person did not mind the poison ivy.

There I saw three old oak trees. They were bent and spread out over everything. Not one was straight. They were covered in moss hanging down.

 Draping gracefulness swinging gently.

easter sunday memories are hatching

Ten minutes from my house to the east the Atlantic Ocean slides up on the nicest beach in the whole wide world. The sand there is smooth and white and fun to walk on. We have shells galore on that beach, though most of them are small. Sometimes seaweed washes up with teeny crabs and shrimps entwined.

I go there every chance I get and have done for most of my life.

On Easter Sunday every year the sun rises up out out the sea and shine down on the Baptist Church choir singing songs of Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit.

Amen will be said by everyone at least 25 times.

Probably more.

Most Easter mornings I get up early and drive over there with my Earl Grey tea in a large mug. Sweet and milky the tea is still steaming when I arrive in the dark gloaming. But I know my way.

I sit on the wooden beach walk-over and watch the  clouds. I pray that the sun makes an appearance as I hate for folks to be disappointed about anything.

The sun, always and without fail, shows up.

A tall wooden cross is stuck deep in the sand way early in the morning and people gather around. They cannot help themselves. They come from all over the place. Some from faraway.

Babies still asleep are gently rocked by parents standing. Old people set up folding beach-chairs and sit in sweet anticipation. They act like they have all the time in the world. I guess they do.

Nine times out of ten dolphins show up and roll in the calm waves.

I never can figure out how the dolphins know what time to be there.

From the dune you can see it all. 

The people gathered on the beach. The slender cross planted in the white sand. The dolphins rolling in the smooth sea. The pink clouds parting for the blue sky. The sun easing its way up from the deep ocean bed. 

I can not tell you how many times I have watched this sight and felt pleased with myself for being there.

Everyone is so full of faith. We all know the clouds will part and the sun will rise.

We all know those dolphins will pop up and roll in the rays of sunlight reflected on the water. We just know.

Well, maybe we have faith but maybe we know because this same thing happens everyday here. Just another day in beach paradise.

Plus, hurricane season does not start for another month yet.

So there is that.

Twenty minutes from my house to the west cabbages grow in neat lines as do Brussels sprouts, broccoli and cauliflower. Flat land and dark soil do their part. The rain and sunshine helps out, too.

Kingfishers sit on the power lines and look down watching everything. They keep track of seasons.

I guess you could say I sort~of live in the country.

I guess you would sort~of be right on the mark with that.

One hundred years ago when I was young all of us cousins got little, bitty pastel-colored chicks for Easter one year.

I do not know how it was achieved but the chicks were dyed different colors, turquoise, green or pink.

This is most likely against the law now but then it was OK.

We had small chicken cages behind our houses even though we lived near town.

This is most likely against the law now but then it was OK.

We kept those chicks until they got huge. I have no idea how long that would take, do you?

One at a time my grandfather offered us cousins each a silver dollar for our grown chicks. After this financial transaction the chicken would disappear.

Shortly after that, we would have chicken for Sunday dinner.

I know. What were our young brains thinking? But I was no fool.

I held out for the longest time. Even then I think my vegetarianism was growing deep inside me.

And I did so want a silver dollar as those coins were as big as the palm of my hand.

Have I told you this story before? How my chicken turned out to be a rooster? Did I tell you I never got my silver dollar but gave my rooster to the woman who came to help my grandmother with chores around the house?

Did I tell you that story? How she took it home and it ran loose in her yard like a guard dog? How he turned out to be a noble fighting rooster?

This is most definitely against the law now but then it was OK.

I do not remember what happened to my fighting rooster. Most likely I was never told the gruesome details of his death but I like to think he lived a good long life and eventually died of old age.

Maybe he retired early as a reward for being a winner and then went to live on a farm somewhere.

This is what happened to our old dog Skipper. When he got really, really old he went to live on a farm somewhere.

Or so we were told.

What is happening this Easter Sunday?

Well, I am learning a new trick. I am going away to visit friends.

No dolphins in the early morning sunlight for me this year. No pastel-colored chicks growing up to uncertain fates. No milk~chocolate Easter bunny ears for my afternoon snack. No.

A change of pace.

Just sneaking out of town. Heading south in the white jeep. My Earl Grey is already packed with my suntan lotion and my books. We will see.

I have faith everything will still be here when I get back.

Plus, hurricane season does not start for another month yet.

So there is that.