Ah, the glowing begins...

Noticing.
For the past seven years
Since I've been living
Here in my 18th-floor eyrie,
Looking westward over the Don River,
I've shown you the autumn colours
In their more developed glory
At the end of October.

But this year, sequestered as I continue to be,
I'd like to show you how autumn glows
As it all begins.
Indeed,
Ever since moving to Toronto in 1978
The view of the west bank of the Don River
Has marked my tracing of the seasons.
The habit:
Sit on the south side of the subway car
Next to a window
Facing west...
And marvel at how much difference
Each day brings...
Mornings and evenings.
But especially the mornings.

These days my altitude has altered
But my wonder continues
Unabated.
This month I offer you
Yesterday's view of that same west bank
At dawn...
When the sun is just high enough to
Light the skyline buildings
And to pick out the glowing oranges
Yellows that I watch
Each day.

I can't really count the leaves
As they change each day,
But I feel the incremental
Shifting. Almost hour-by-hour.
The sun rises further south
Each day, of course.
And later, too.
These are some of my
Daily noticings.

Others include
How flexible my ageing
Frame feels.
How dust motes float
But seem to show their
Landing spots as the sun
Progresses in its daily descent...
Just before its glare becomes
Altogether too much and I must
Pull curtains across my
Glorious view...

Only to open them again
After the sun sets
Revealing
My nighttime views...
Sans colours in the valley,
Of course,
But skyline alit
As if to say
I'm still here.

Me, too.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Sept 2020

 

We're all inside looking out...

Our times are marked
By the ways we're staying
Safe...
And the ways we're keeping
Others safe...
With masks and distance
And just plain staying home.

There's a vigilance
That comes with our
Solitude.
Like Kate's Batman, here,
We want to know
What's going on...
Out there.
We want to be
Out there...
And in the thick
Of it,
Whatever "it" is.

But we're stuck
In here contemplating
Our own versions
Of bugs and squirrels...
Of the smells of forbidden
Street food.

Wait! Is that a pigeon
About to land
On MY balcony????
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2020

Keeping my distance...

Spring has truly turned
Into a steaming summer
As attested to by
Colours bursting forth
Far and wide.
Online images show us
Tulip fields
Without us!
Parks and ponds
Without us!
Forests and glades
Without us!
And the blooms
Frolic unabated
In our absence.

Seems Mama Nature
Knows her part
And is splendidly keeping
Her show on the road...
With the ever-buzzy aid
Of some dusty-bottomed
Minions.

Kate found this evidence
On the north side of her NJ home.
She says these clustered blooms
Remind her of a basket of
Playmobil flowers.
I see sunflowers, tulips,
And daffodils.
But what are these
Bee magnets called?
Do you have any clues?
The bee, of course
Doesn't care.


...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

July 2020

Thinking today of Don Watt and the scope of just one visual message...

As most of you know, I was fortunate enough to work for Don Watt for several years at his Bayview studio here in Toronto. He was the unattributed designer of the Canadian flag. It's a symbol now recognized instantly everywhere and brings particular pride and unity to the people in this beautiful country. Don left us in 2009 and I'm still saddened, in particular at this time of year.

One summer while I was working for Don, he invited all of us and our families to his King City farm for a big afternoon of hanging in the sun, swimming in the pool, and eating juicy barbecue. I took my two grandsons, Lucas (then 4) and Jackson (then 6). Lucas was even wearing a shirt with a Canadian Flag on it.

I had borrowed Peter's car for the drive and on the way there I told the boys about how Don had designed that flag. Each time we saw a flag as we drove (and there were many), I pointed it out to them, saying, "There's another one of Don's flags. Look how one great symbol can make so many people proud."

Finally, Lucas said,"He must get very tired painting all those flags!"
...
"Yes, I did," said Don when I told him as part of introductions, "but every one was fun because I love seeing people enjoy my work."
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course 

June 2020

June is quietly considering busting out... maybe just a little...

.... or maybe June's just going to melt us all away. The air hangs thick and pungent. I visit the world from my 18th-floor eyrie and watch outside people (and their doggies) coming and going and distancing socially. I think that must be easy since there are not very many of them. I mostly can't tell from up here if the humans are wearing masks, but in my heart I believe they are. I haven't ventured out for more than 11 weeks now, but I have a couple of cloth masks ready for the "right time"... and supplies to make some more, should the mood (and momentum) discover me. Urgency is not a part of my equation.

But wishful dreaming is. I have a list of things to do once I'm liberated. I know that'll be in stages, but my list is for wishing, not planning... yet.

In the meantime, my balcony Buddha supervises my outdoor barre (aka balcony railing) exercises and my indoor tai chi and even some seated tap dancing—especially with Bojangles' birthday just past.

...and that reminds me...Summer...
San Antonio, Texas.
Over a half-century ago.
Listen... that's me practising
My tap dancing.
The music's Sweet Georgia Brown,
Sometimes in Dixieland
But most often a simple piano solo.
I can't remember who played.
But I do remember
The steps...
And I do remember
The smells.

I tap and tap
Change combinations
Ad infinitum.
Childhood home
Comes equipped with
Screened back porch.
Perfect practice room
Away from reading
And television-watching parents.
Here I can crank up
That music and
Tap with all my might.

Oh, yes,
Smells.
I did mention Smells,
Didn't I?

Hot summer sun is filtred
Through live latticed walls of
Honeysuckle and Jasmine.
Vines are thick with tendrils
Intermingled with blossoms of
Unforgettable fragrances.

I tap and tap,
Wipe face
With towel that
Hangs 'round neck.
I gulp air filled
With sweetness
Stirred by breezes,
Where each gust mixes
Potion with
New variation on
Nectar's theme.

How can I describe
Smell?
Maybe you've known
Honeysuckle.
Maybe you've known
Jasmine.
Have you known them
Together?

They smell of
Sun and
Dancing dust motes.
They smell of
Joy and movement.
They smell of
Nature's hopes
And promises.
They smell of
Effort to be better:
Determination.
Quicker and slower.
Shuffles and flaps.
Turns and cramp-rolls and kicks.
Black tights.
Gold lamé Cuban heels.
Capezio taps.
They smell of
Sweaty terry cloth.
They smell of
Soft rustlings.
They smell of
Butterflies and
Hummingbirds.
Oh yes,
And bees.
Of course.
They smell of
Rhythms.
They smell of
Memories in my bones.

I'm showing you
Some of my memories here,
Evoked by smells past.
Just relax and drink them in.
This summer I invite you
To notice each day's smells...
To remember smells past
And
To find ways to enjoy...
And describe
Your smelliest summer ever.

Look!
The joy is still around us.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

May the 4th

This month's red-letter day...

I know you know. Unpack and polish your light sabres, then relax with a margarita, or ten.

This month I've decided to give us al a little alternative calendar to use for a few days... just to get us unto the spirit of the times—or is that, the spirits of the time?

If you'd like to have this version for your own desktop for a few days, I've put the usual higher-resolution in the folder linked at the right.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

May 2020

Batman shows us how it's done...

Now, my friends,
Let’s let the earth breathe.
We can doze and stretch
Like Kate’s Batman
On his bright, bright, bright
Green chair
On a bright, bright, bright
Sunshiny day.
~
I think you can sometimes
Judge a book by its covers,
Especially when those covers
Look like these:
An embossed dust cover
Over a paperback cover!

Each day I open
One new page of
Béa Gonzalez rich book,
The Mapmaker’s Opera.
I’m reading it slowly
On purpose.

This is part of my work
As artist-in-residence,
Sequestered doyenne,
Locked-down grande dame,
Quarantined mémère,
Sheltered Nana-Bee.

As I finish reading each page
I stop and grab a pencil.
Circling a word here and there,
I find a poem
From Béa’s lush words
On her page.
Eventually, I will have read
And enjoyed
All her pages and
I’ll have a whole book
Of my own little found poems
Bound between
These glorious covers.

There is no deadline…
There is only process,
Doing,
Reading,
Making.

Here’s my Page 6:
     Heart diseases
     Hint of mockery,
     Parchment transformed
     By trembling names.
     Something secret…
     Years of mysteries,
     Impatient
     Once again.

And my Page 9:
     The red spot…
     Wait at the edges
     Of mortality
     And
     Pause briefly.
     Oh! Hush!
~
Like Johnny and Jimmy said,
We can see clearly now
All obstacles in our way!
We’ll be ready to
Have our own
Bright, bright, bright
Sunshiny day.

Johnny Nash 1972

Jimmy Cliff 1993 (for movie Cool Runnings)

and this utter delight from Bobby McFerrin 2011
 
And about found poetry: Austin Kleon's Newspaper Blackout. NOTE: I have chosen to circle words in pencil instead of blacking out the unused words because this book is so beautiful and I don't want to let black ink bleed from page to page. I'm very disciplined, however. Once I've completed a page I will not go back and add words.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

April 2020

Just look at what the sun is bringing forth...

As many of us shelter in solitude,
Or cling together in personal situ,
Last month's promise of sunshine
Is unwrapping the way.

This is Farley Hill National Park In Barbados.
The 1818 mansion, setting for
Movie Island in the Sun, burned
The year I graduated from university.

It's perched atop a hill, overlooking
Both the Atlantic to the East
And the Caribbean to the West.

I think we all would like to
See life with a 360° perspective...
Only maybe we'd like our degrees
To be time-stamped.

This sun-drenched garden,
Glimpsed through long-abandoned windows,
Offers us all reminder

Of the sun's arc of promise.
And of Nature's determination
To renew...
To persist...
...
In the meantime, my friends,
I'll be watching from my balcony...
and thinking of you.

Pi Day 2020

Happy Pi Day, Ya'll

March 2020

The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la...
Bring promise of merry sunshine!

My balcony Buddha sits
In brief sunny aftermath of blustery
End-of-Feb snow whiteout...
While Spring’s promise
Explodes on my side of window...
And brings sweet memory.
~
Lubbock, Texas, spring of 1954.
First poem I ever learned...
By heart:

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead."
~Daffodowndilly, by A.A. Milne

The Grade 3 version of me
Knew naught of Spring
Nor of her promises.
I guess it got cold in the winter
But I don't recall any snow.
Craig Cooley and Eileen Lamplighter
And I still rode our bicycles
Around the neighbourhood
Dodging ubiquitous tumbleweeds.
I had no awareness of daffodils, either,
But our teacher showed us pictures
And had us make daffodil pinwheels
From yellow craft paper.
Craig and Eileen and I had great fun
Running home holding ours on high
As they whizzed and spun.
But, it was this poem
That captured my soul.
No, I didn't remember all of it.
I had to look it up.

But, see?
Sixty-six springs later
I know snow
And I yearn for spring
And...
I am still captivated.
 ~
Many thank yous to Roy for the daffs!

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Feb 2020

Should We Say Year of the Rat?  ...or the Mouse?
Yes, the Year of the Rat is what everyone sees, but a local shopkeeper who is Chinese, tells me she always says "Mouse." She explains, "It's like Mickey Mouse! So much more friendly."  Of course, the Year of the Rodent-of-Some-Kind is all about tenacity, but also about fertility. Fertile tenacity. Tenacious fertility.

Of course, from an astrological point of view, fertility is about creativity—all forms of creativity. What a great focus for the year!

The Chinese year is a lunar calendar, of course, with the New Year falling on the New Moon between Jan 21st and Feb 20th. I have recently started teaching people how to track the moon's phases. Of course, I use astrology as the base for observing today's phases compared to our personal astrological natal chart. I'm pretty excited about sharing my reflections with others.

Here I show you my New Moon to New Moon announcement along with Canada Post's 2020 Year of the Rat/Mouse stamps. The Year of the Rat marks the first in the 12-year cycle.
As the Canada Post site says:

• As legend has it, the rat earned the primary position thanks to its cunning nature. According to one story, the Jade Emperor based the 12-year cycle on the order in which the animals arrived at the heavenly temple. The rat persuaded the tireless ox, which was sure to win, to carry it to the finish line. Just as the ox approached the temple, the rat jumped down and scurried ahead to take first place.
• Designed by Albert Ng, O. Ont., and Seung Jai Paek, the stamps present the traditional story of the wedding of the rat’s daughter in the style of folk art known as Chinese farmer painting. The permanent domestic-rate stamp depicts the bride on her way to her nuptials, while the international-rate stamp shows the happily married couple.
• “A merry wedding procession of rats is a common folk-art motif associated with the Chinese New Year,” explains Ng. “The snowy scene, reminiscent of Canada or northern China, joyfully captures the celebration of the wedding – and the coming new year.”

Whichever name you choose to call them, these gnawers are getting married in the highest style marking their hopes for a prosperous year—and a lifetime filled with joyous creative issue.

On that note, I wish each of you a fecund year of your own favourite definitions of creativity.
...

If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Happy 2020!

3 Generations in Art...

Read this then click here to see the slide show.
(Best to download and watch on a big screen)

I know I think of us
As three generations...
But perhaps I should admit
We are maybe five.


It started with our family's
Own Elizabeth the First...
My great-grandmother.
She was a typesetter
Originally from Cambridge
Transplanted to Calvert, Texas,
And married to a newspaperman.
All four of their daughters
Learned to set type.
Of course.
I have samples of some
Of their childhood efforts.
My grandmother, one of those
In that typesetting bevy, died after
Giving birth to my mum.
My mum, then, became
Our family's own Elizabeth the Second.

Reared by her typesetting grannie
And two of those typesetting aunties,
My mum eventually became an architect.
At a time when women seldom ventured
Out of their homemaking roles,
She designed houses and clinics and schools
In Dallas, Texas.
She took up painting after I married and
Released her from a myriad of mothering tasks.
I had taken up painting, in university
In San Antonio, Texas,
Where I had majored in Sculpture.
But it was graphic design, mostly for packaging,
That became my focus, with little forays
Into oils and acrylics...
And designing an actual home in Toronto.
Years and a couple of trans-Pacific moves later,
I had my own daughter.
She later attended
An arts high school in Toronto,
Where she, too, took up painting—and more—before
She ventured into the work of becoming
A full-fledged mathematician:
Dr. Kate, now with tenure!

On this month's calendar, I show you
Some of my mum's work,
Plus a couple of Kate's and mine.
My mum always said Kate would
Out-shine both of us... indeed
She continues to do just that.

I've made a slide show I'm calling
Elizabeth, Kate, & Me—3 Generations in Art.
Download it and have a look.

It shows you some more of my mum's paintings
As well as more of Kate's and my art...
Paintings and more. Kate's selection
Even includes some book covers
She's created, just for fun, for some books
She particularly enjoyed reading this past year.
My own packaging production design
Belongs to my clients, so I can't show you...
But if you've ever gone shopping for groceries
In Wal-Mart in the US or Latin America or Germany...
Or Sobey's or Metro stores in Canada...
You've seen some of my work.
All-in-all, then, we three generations
Have a history of making stuff.
We're such show-offs, eh?

I want to thank Steve-Paul Simms
For letting me use his song, Lillian's Girls,
In my slide show. Steve-Paul is a very talented
Singer & songwriter... and my friend
For two decades. Steve-Paul is himself
In the throes of creation: his new album,
Ingrid and the Messenger Boy,
Is due out in March. His previous albums are
Wall of Illusion (1999), Open City (2005) and Palpable Hits (2006).
Those of us in Toronto can catch him next
At the Tranzac on Sunday, Jan 26th, from 5-7 pm.

Have a great 2020, my friends,
And let us all see any stuff you create this year.
Let's all make 2020
The Year of the Show-Offs
And fill the world with joy and excitement.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

P.S. I've cut my hair. Look at my new profile pic.

Dec 2019

Ruminating about returns...

On the day of our birth every year
The Sun returns to the same place in the sky
That it held on our first earthly day ever.
We call these our solar returns. Indeed,
People utter celebratory, "Many happy returns!"
To encourage our perseverance and continuance.
So the Sun welcomes our new year
By retracing his annual path through the seasons.
It's a known path, but still filled with fresh discoveries...
As we ourselves revisit our pasts along
With new iterations and variations,
Fed with debris we've left behind...
Or have we?
Always old.
And
Always new.
And
Always a familiar
Handrail and steps to remind us
How precious it all has been
And
Will
Be.
...
My own solar return was a couple of days ago. That means I've now been tap dancing for 70 years and chanting for 36 years—and I'm not out of breath yet, my friends. I thank Rich Fuller for this inspiring glimpse of his lush world, taken on the Summit Path, Bukit Bendera (Penang Hill), Penang, Malaysia.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Nov 2019

Memories of Vatican bees...

I've told you before about how Kate kidnapped me (2015) and together with David took me to Italy to meet up with Peter and Lisl for my bucket-listed visit to Michelangelo's David in Florence. Here's a reminder.

At the Vatican Museums, David piloted a wheelchair for me, so I could see everything without stressing my back. Not only did that make it easier for me, but the wheelchair got us into the Sistine Chapel faster and right to the front. Of course, we gawked and grocked in wonder and awe. Then as we made our way back, we went through the Gallery of Maps. It was David, at his elevated height above the heads of crowded others, who noticed the bees. Lotsa bees there. He carefully rolled me near so I could snap pix of them all.

Seems all these bees have historical significance. I didn't have to dig very deep.

The noble Barberini dynasty was among Rome’s greatest patrons of the arts. The Barberini family first arrived from Florence in the late 16th century, where they went by the name Tafani (horsefly). They soon changed their name and out went the unattractive old insect and in flew the ancient royal symbol of a bee. The family reached the height of its power in the 17th century when Cardinal Maffeo Barberini became Pope Urban VIII. Under his commission, artists turned Rome into a showcase of Baroque. The family’s coat of arms is three bees in a V-formation, and they decorate buildings and paintings all over the city. Barberini bees appear throughout the Vatican Museums, in particular on frescoed walls of the Gallery of Maps like this one.

In 2011 the Pope became a beekeeper when Italy's largest farming association gifted him with 1/2 million bees in honour of the Day for the Protection of Creation.

Tis all fitting, eh?
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Oct 2019

Banking some green...

Yes, summer has extended herself where I live, with an expected 29°C expected for this day. But we all know October's balmy days will soon give way to frostier times and bring the bright colours of autumn we all love. I offer here some radiant greens to hold in our hearts after those reds and oranges and yellows give up their ghosts to winter's eventual crystalline charms.

This lush aeonium arboreum lives in a pot soaking up some rays along with the rain in my friend's Nanoose Bay garden on Vancouver Island, BC. Wikipedia tells me these succulents are also called tree houseleeks and Irish roses, both easier to say eh?

It really helps that I have friends who know how to see such beauty in their worlds AND how to produce remarkable images to share with the rest of us. Thank you, Terri, for letting me use this image—one of your many that make us all envious of your western move.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Sept 2019

The promises of Yellow...

It's not just Winter's snowy silences, Summer has it's own promises to keep, too. First tulips and daffodils spring forth to announce the arrival of light, then dandelions pop up to shout about it and to give children the chance to participate in blowing its seeds asunder before the wind usurps. Finally, the glorious sunflower stands tall and unfolds to reveal it's own riches: seeds for topping our summer salads AND for planting to ensure next year's repeat performance.

Seems Mother Nature simply loves the bright yellows, n'est pas?

According to science, though, that was not always the case. Flower fossils reveal original flowers were almost universally just pale greens and some pale yellows. That's when bugs were the primary pollinators. As MN re-evaluated, she decided that winged pollinators would ensure a wider distribution of her flowers, so she invented ways to attract them.

Colours! But not really colours. Those very valued pollinators can't see most colours. So flowers developed surfaces that can reflect differing UV radiances back to pollinators like bees (yes!) and birds and guide them from on high—not just to a flower itself, but further, into her nectar-laden centre.

Go here to see some neat stuff about it, but mostly the one image that shows a yellow Carolina Jessamine flower as we see it and a bee might see it.

Seems reds and blues and yellows offer some of the highest reflective opportunities, and lo! We now have flowers of many colours. Today I'm obsessing about the yellow ones. According to its etymology, it seems the word yellow, itself, comes from the Old English geolu, geolwe, meaning "yellow, yellowish," devived from the Proto-Germanic word gelwaz "yellow." It has the same Indo-European base, ghel- as the words gold and yell; ghel- means both bright and gleaming, and to cry out.

So today I'm shouting about all the wondrous yellow hues in our paint box: Yellow Ochre, Indian Yellow, Naples Yellow, Cadmium Yellow, Chrome Yellow, Zinc Yellow, Titanium Yellow, Gamboge, Orpiment (aka King's Yellow), and Hansa Yellow. And, of course, remembering Mellow Yellow, quite rightly.

I am happy to thank Fiona Phillips for this glorious show of the Power of Yellow. Fiona planted a bunch of Sunflower seeds in her Canterbury (yes, the one in England) garden and took this spectacular image about 8:30 on the morning of Aug 19th as this flower was the first of the bunch to announce its joy to the world. When not planting and taking pix, Fiona offers a free tarot class that explores cards through intuition and imagination, here.
 
As for me, I'm overjoyed to welcome this Sunflower and all his stunning siblings to my world.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2019

 

Laze, haze, & daze... tis summer at last...

When I was a girl, my dad's brother bought a small getaway next to a small New Mexico lake. I don't remember the name of the lake, but Uncle Dick referred to his cabin as a cabinet. I remember my parents laughing at his nomenclature—until we got there. It was a barren beachfront with about 30 tiny buildings sharing a clap-trap communal outhouse. TINY. It was indeed a cabinet. Plus no trees. People just parked their cars next to their own cabinets and it was so hot on the sand they drove the 20 yards to the outhouse. I don't remember anything else. OK: bugs. I remember bugs. The lake seemed murky and was not very inviting. From my today's mind, I'm guessing people must have had boats and gone out on the water to fish, but I certainly don't remember any of that. My memories are full of only the discomfort and the TINY-ness. I was about to start the third grade in Lubbock, Texas, at the time, so maybe you'll forgive my narrow focus.

Granted, in Texas, many people had cabins on one lake or another, but they were not common among my friends as I grew up in San Antonio... and those cabins were more often rustic one-room affairs, each situated on a small wooded lot with its own well and outhouse. That had always been my understanding of what a cabin was supposed to be.

Since coming to Toronto, I've been introduced to the tradition of cottages, cottage country, and cottage season. Cottage country is marked by many small lakes and lots of picturesque woodlands. The tradition is from before the days of working mums. On the first weekend as soon as school was out at the end of June, families would pack up bedding, pots and pans, linens, food, and water toys galore and drive several hours to their own cottage or one they'd rented for the summer. The dad would help them get settled in, then return to work Monday morning. Then every Friday the dad would return for the weekend, often indulging in boating and fishing and maybe even dock repairs—then rush back to his job in the city on Mondays. Of course, if the dad could arrange his work vacation to fall during this time he could stay a week or two. He and his friends might spend their time putting a new roof on the cottage. These days the tradition continues, but with adjustments for working mums and sometimes these arrangements involve nannies. The high-school version of Kate did a summer stint as a nanny at one such cottage.

Family cottages might be small or even rather large houses. They are never, ever cabinets. They may or may not have wells, but they always seem to have a way to bring water from whatever nearby lake is offering its presence as excuse for the season. Drinking water, then, is often carried from nearby springs. Septic tanks have made indoor plumbing possible for many. Many cottages these days have ALL the mod cons.  Larger families share their cottages generation after generation. Some families seem to pile in all at once like a hive and others work out their own time-share arrangements. But all the family cottagers share in the upkeep and the expectation of relaxation away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

The view here is from Marje's family cottage. It's is on a very quiet small lake in the Muskoka region a few hours north of Toronto. I hear the black flies can carry one away. Monday night's storm blew these very chairs over, but not away. Stormy gusts are obviously less onerous than country insects. There's no denying the idyl of it all, though, is there? Haze, mist, and the myst-ery of calm solitude. Ah-h-h-h-h-h.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

July 2019

Vibrant summer colours are here at last...

Teresa, my friend since the last century, has finally settled in Toronto again after many years roaming and working with UNICEF communities helping to uphold children's rights to happiness and education. My joy at her return is underscored by her moving to a place near my own home base, so we are able to hang out frequently... often indulging in nearby Mexican-style food. That's an essential for both of us; she is originally for Mexico City and I am from San Antonio, Texas.

This month's calendar is one of Teresita's paintings.Teresa had decided to pick up her interest in art by taking some lessons. And lo! She found a wonderful artist/teacher right in her own building: Nina Keogh.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

June 2019

There's probably a good reason Mother's Day is in May... right?

It's about welcoming Spring, eh? Salads on the balcony... and iced tea... and maybe even lemonade. But this Mother's Day found almost no green in my valley. 

Then these tulips arrived! Their job: to remind me just how much I have relished both motherhood and grandmotherhood—plus how much I was ready to bask in Spring sunshine! I was soooooo tired of grey days enveloping my world into a never-ending cloud.

So... I added some sweet pickle relish to my tuna and mango salad and bided my time, enjoying my the salad with the delish Mexican crackers that also arrived for my day. Enjoying the freshening colours, I relished my sweet memories of lotsa mothering... two kids and two grandkids... plus memories of my own mum and the stories about my grandmums. 

Obviously these tulips did their job. Now there is valley green. Many days we even have glorious real-life sunshine, like the sunshine I added to this image—to welcome your June. Enjoy your version of Spring wherever you are.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Luke Skywalker Day 2019

Drinks for your muy grande weekend...
and praps your Monday too...

Saturday, May the 4th: Get into the Sar Wars spirit with this green Yoda Soda or this green Yoda Cocoa. There are also some non-drink suggestions here and the Food Network has a whole Star Wars collection.

Sunday, May the 5th: Try a special Cinco de Mayo Lavender-Lemon Margarita. While you're there be sure to check the whole Muy Bueno Cookbook site for inspiration for a full-on Cinco feast.

Monday, May the 5th: The experts deem tomato juice to be one of the favoured solutions to a morning-after. Try a Virgin Mary in case you overdid your muy bueno Cinco evening.

However you decide to celebrate this weekend, I invite you to enjoy Chavela Vargas in the background. My all-time fave is the first one.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course