Gourds of the Artistic Kind

I usually take a walk after my evening meal.  Once the kitchen is cleaned up I take a step outside and inhale the fresh air and enjoy nature.  I like to hear the birds sing and the bugs making their evening sounds.  Now that it is nearly autumn the daylight has slowly begun to fade like a shadow creeping up the hill. Those long days made me feel alive. Before long we will be confined to our homes while we wait for spring again.  

This evening I strolled down the street of a lovely neighborhood that adjoins mine.  The houses are quaintly decorated with well kept lawns.  I often admire those large houses and try to imagine myself living in one of them.  I put my camera in a backpack and headed down the street looking for something to photograph.  Last week I noticed a beautiful gourd in the front of an eclectically put together yard.  The gourd caught my eye.  

I put my backpack down on the brick wall and began pulling my camera out.  A lady that I hadn't noticed asked me if I was collecting something.

I told her that I intended on taking a picture of the gourd hanging in the tree. She was thrilled that I liked it enough to take a picture.  She invited me into her yard so that I could get a better shot. 

She asked if I would like to see more of them.  "Of course", I said. How could I say no?  Before I knew it the brick wall was lined with the most beautifully decorated gourds I have ever seen. Did you know that it takes about 18 months to dry one of these? I learned a lot talking to this lady. 

She hand paints them. They are inspired by Native American culture.  The top fits the bottom like a puzzle and is covered with animals. I asked her if she ever sold her works of art.  Sadly, she only gives them to family and friends. She told me that she invests at least 200 hours of work into each gourd. No one will be able to pay her what they are worth. 

By the way, I have a new Canon 60D.  Needless to say, I am so happy with the results.  Who knows what the future may hold for this wannabe photographer. 

The Grasshopper and a needing a new camera

I was cleaning out a flower bed the other day and I noticed a grasshopper watching me.  I like insects, bugs, and especially grasshoppers.  As quickly as I could, I ran into the house to get my camera, asking the grasshopper to please stay until I returned.  He did.  I'm sure that I looked like a one-eyed monster to this tiny creature as I crept up ever so slowly to get the perfect shot.  When I was done, I told him thank you and went inside.  Isn't he lovely?  

My camera has died.  And it did so while I was in the middle of a photo shoot yesterday.  It is time to bit the bullet and get a new one. I tried to see if it could be repaired, but it is very old and the manufacturer said that the model is no longer fixable.  The thing is I didn't want to do it right now.  Things are starting to look up for me with a new job and a raise and I didn't factor a camera into my immediate plans.  But, I cannot go without being able to take pictures. It is something that I absolutely love to do.  I don't mind standing on ladders to get the perfect shot or laying on the ground either. Things look differently now.  I look at the world and all it contains and see a picture, a beautiful picture in my mind. I want to capture the essence of it. I feel driven...I want to create an infinitesimal moment of beauty so that I can leave my mark in this world, even if it is a small one.

Grasshopper
grasshopper
all day long
we hear your scraping
summer song
like
rusty
fiddles
in
the
grass
as through
the meadow
path
we pass
such funny legs
such funny feet
and how we wonder
what you eat
maybe a single blink of dew
sipped from a clover leaf would do
then high in air
once more you spring
to fall in grass again
and sing.

Conrad Potter Aiken

Left-handed, well, not completely

Photo came from here

Did you know that about 10% of the population is left-handed? It is said that people who are left-handed are more creative, artsy, musical, perceptive, and genius. I really like the genius part. And I can believe that.  One has to be very creative in a right-handed world. I am a minority of a different kind and in ancient times we were looked down upon as inferior.   We’ve been called names like southpaw, whatever that means. At various times in history left-handedness was seen as a nasty habit, mark of the devil, a sign of neurosis, rebellion, and homosexuality.  This doesn’t sound very encouraging does it?

I never really thought much about being left handed.  But I’ve never been a complete one either. What do I mean by complete? Well, a complete lefty does everything with the hand opposite of their right.  You might say that I am dual handed.  There is a term for it, ambidextrous, and less than one percent of the population falls in this category. My father was this way too.  I must have inherited it from him. 

I have one memory as a child of having an issue with my leftyness.  During art class the teacher asked if anyone was left handed.  I quickly raised my hand and was given the “lefty” scissors.  I tried and tried to cut with them but to no avail;  it was then that I discovered when I cut things I use my right hand.  Before Kindergarten, I didn’t have much experience using scissors.  My mom was always paranoid that we would get hurt.  Therefore, we never had sharp objects around especially while playing.

I cannot sew with my left hand. If I tried to make a stitch with the left God only knows how bad it would be or where the needle would end up.  When I throw a ball the right hand is used doing that too.  I have no problems using a right-handed computer mouse or even a desk that lefty’s have such a hard time with. 

When I eat, I can use either hand depending on the cuisine.  When I eat North African or Middle Eastern food I use my right hand and the left for everything else.  Then there is the problem when a lefty goes out to dinner with friends.  I try to sit at the end of the table with my left arm on the outside so that I can move freely. There are religions/cultures that insist everyone try to be right handed.  When you eat it must with the right hand because the left hand is unclean and is used when you are doing not so nice things which make me cringe at the thought of those people who don’t use soap afterwards but water only. 

Here is where I draw the line, with writing. I am a total lefty. There is just no way of working around it. And believe me, I have tried.  I can write with my other hand and it can be read but it would take me forever and the words would be all over the page. 

I don't know whether I am right brain,left brain, or no brain. I just take life as it comes. 

To all the lefty’s out there in the world, Happy Left-Handers Day! Those of us who are ambidextrous, well, it is too hard to spell and not enough out there in the world to have our own special day. 

Unnoticed

I see a man sitting in the same chair whenever I go to the bookstore.  He is usually slumped over gently snoring and his prosthetic arm lays stiffly across his torso while the other is cradling a book. He is unnoticed by patrons who pass by him as they busily roam the store in search of the newest popular novel or favorite magazine.  But I see him and I'm wondering what his story is. Why does he come here? I wonder.  How long has he been in this condition? Most of all, does anyone love him? I can almost bet he is homeless. A $20 bill will not solve his problem.  Oh, how I wish that it could! I watched him for a moment or two and then left. But I thought about him all the way home.   

Homeless Man by Grajauskas

When I arrived at home, I sat down and wrote him a short letter.  A love letter of sorts. Saying that I hoped someone loved him. After all, what is life without without being loved? I enclosed a small amount of money then sealed the envelope. I went back to the store hoping to find the man, but by the time I got there someone had told him to leave. A clerk told me that he is there frequently, which I already knew.  "What time of day is he usually here?" I asked. "It varies", replied the clerk. I will deliver the letter eventually.  In the meantime, I will think about his life and I'll pray for an escape. 

My Southern Side and Elizabeth LaPrelle

I am Southern even though I live in the north. We moved away from Tennessee for the last time in early 70's.  Even though I lived a short time in the state of my birth it calls me from time to time.  It must be in my DNA somewhere.  Movies like Song Catcher and O Brother where are thou? stir up my southern side and tries to entice me to move back "home". I think about it often, very often.  But I would miss my brother and sister and I did when I tried to break away at the turn of the century. And yet it still calls me from the distance. 

Lately, I have been listening to old Southern ballads, only to find that they are really English ballads. I have the CD Song Catcher and have memorized nearly all of the songs. Two of my favorites from the CD are Pretty Saro sung by Iris DeMent and All my tears sung by Julie Miller. Which leads me to a singer by the name of Elizabeth LaPrelle.  She sings in the old Southern style that I love.  I discovered her on Youtube and have listened to her belt out ballads that came from the British Isles many, many years ago.  If you like country music then you will probably like this singer.    

Mature Love

He loves her...still.  They have been married for years and "it" is still there. I watched as he kissed her hand adoringly. It is their nightly ritual, he said. She is his world and it shows in his face. A love exists between them that I have never seen before.  I look on wishing, hoping, praying, that someday I will be loved like this. Until then, I wait...

I should have brought you flowers...

He emerged from the car with a gift. You don't see men carrying these around much. I watched as he made his way to her with his offering of love. All women love them, even if they declare that they don't. He found a vase and put the delicate flowers gently in their new home. They are beautiful. If only she could see them. The sweet perfume of the flower wafted on the gentle breeze to my nostrils but the one they were intended for could not smell them. Did he give her flowers before this? I hope that he did. I continued watching as he stood there talking to her. He looked around to make sure that no one noticed that he was conversing with the invisible. Did she hear him? I felt like a thief observing this intimate encounter. Afterwards, the man turned and walked back to his car. We live between the two eternities, birth and death. She has gone to hers and is patiently waiting for him.

Red Admiral: The Regal Buttlerfly

When I arrived home this evening I saw this butterfly in my yard.  I ran into the house as fast as I could to get me camera hoping that it would still be there when I came back outside. Today was my lucky day.  After chasing the butterfly around for a little bit it decided to stay put long enough for me to get a shot.  Oh how I love this time of year!  I wish that somehow it could be July all year long, well, at least the wonderful temperatures we have been experiencing lately all of the time.  I hope that you are having a wonderful summer.  

May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun

and find your shoulder to light on, 

to bring you luck, happiness, and riches

today, tomorrow, and beyond.

an Irish Blessing

60 Minutes: Sir Nicholas Winton "Saving the Children"

Yesterday we celebrated our independence. Flags were displayed proudly all across the country.  Fireworks filled the night sky with brilliant showers of color and light. Any yet, the horrors of war seem to haunt us, especially those from WWII.  The Hitler regime tried to do the unspeakable.

October 23, 2008 - Source: Chris Jackson/Getty Images Europe

All throughout history there are unsung hero's who lived amongst us. Here is a story of one man, a two week vacation, and lives saved from the concentration camps. Nicholas Winton went to Prague on a two week vacation. Nicholas saw that war was eminent. The adults felt that they were stuck in their country, but wanted a way out for the children. Winton set up operation to try to save as many children as he could. 

Afterwards life went on for Winton. He never told a soul what he did. It was something that he just didn't talk about. As an American,I wish that we could have stepped in and helped.  But the "powers that be" didn't feel it was crucial to help the poor unfortunates. This is an enlightening story of how one person can make a difference in so many lives. 

Fairy Princess Halo

I have a little niece who wants to be a princess.  She is always asking me to buy her a princess dress or a dress that a Disney cartoon character is wearing in a film.  The other day I was looking on line to learn how to make a floral headdress and ran across a video for a fairy princess halo.  The directions were simple. Last night, I made the fairy princess halo and it turned out very nicely. 

I went to Walmart to buy the cable ties, they are more expensive in the smaller hardware stores. Also, I used 5 different pastel colored ribbon to give it lots of color. My niece loved this. If there is a little girl you know that longs to be a princess then watch the video below and make her feel very special.