Mid Morning Break

At 10.15 a.m. the hand bell, from the school across the river, rings for morning break. I move from the beds to the shade of the shed, drink iced water, sit down on the roots of the old golden apple tree and watch the view. Dry season, it is hot. The water in the ravine trickles below Job's Tears to the river below. There is a digger working in the village of Vendome and the horns of the large trucks announce their descent of the winding mountain road. Lesser Antillean bullfinch, bananaquit and butterflies pass by with the cooling breeze that rustles the royal palms.

The Forestry

the forestry
the place
to be

the forestry
shares gifts
with me

the forestry
is where
I see

the forestry
brings quiet
to mind

the forestry
time to
unwind

the forestry
sings a
keening call

the forestry
home to all

the forestry
returns us
to

the forestry
of me
and you.

Surprise!

 

I am not good in the mornings. I am not one of those bouncy,happy, chatty, jump out of bed and straight away carpe deum types. I surface slowly, dragged from a world that is as reluctant to let me go as I am to leave.Coffee helps, as does bird song and the dark before dawn and the stillness of a day not yet begun by anyone. I have written morning pages for years now. I have volumes of mostly illegible, subconscious scribbling interspersed with patterns and ideas and sketches. A soup of stuff that flows in these early hours unrestrained by 'the critic' or the dollar. The ritual done, I get out of bed, make it and wander downstairs to the kitchen, where T will be with more coffee and porridge.......and this particular morning...Angel Trumpets to start the day!

Dinner.

 The hunter/gatherer returns with smiles and salty tales

of tangled rock snared lines,well cast,

yet destined for the deep.

 The mountain man, so adept in the river and its' pools.

was out of depth, and patience, as the sea ran with his spool

of tackle, spent, hooks, lines and sinkers,

the sun was sinking too,

when Barracuda made his move

and brought this gift to you.

The Turning Point

Can it be true? Can a whole year and some have passed since I was last here? One thing I notice is this place, was it not a little dark?, Time to let the sunshine in me thinks, pull back the curtains, open all windows and let the breeze pass through. Hang on to your hats if you're ready for the ride, the arrival of a new computer is indeed a joyous thing and coincides with a joyful spirit flinging me headlong towards all positive things. Thank you thank you thank you.

Decisions Decisions

Painting

drawing

sketching

research

experimentation

illustration

construction

cooking

looking

erasing

finding

losing

thinking

doing

taking

 

 

all of the above, flicking through old magazines and making a scrap book to remind me of where to put the energy.

 

Pet Projects

I give you Buffy and Max, the source of my resolution for 2011, .....to have fun!

Acrylic on canvass 11" x 14".

The View From The Shed

T left early for Corn Buck this morning. The rain
met me just as I was about to make the fourth
and last river crossing. Taking cover in the dry
leaf mold below the old tree, I realised this was a
'whole day rain' and was just thinking of making
a dash for it when T arrived, in chivalrous fashion,
bearing a whole piece of old galvanise above his
head, in order to shelter and escort me across
the river and into the shed, where we drank hot,
sweet, strong coffee from the flask and shared our
riotously ambitious, rain inspired, dreams for the future .

Sharing good things

Nan Lakou 12 Janvye from Fredo Dupoux on Vimeo.

with thanks to yatalley and twitter