Walk.

Back in June, I damaged my foot and, with the exception of the occasional bus ride to town to pay bills etc, I have stayed home. The foot was maintained in various states of elevation, therapy- both hot and cold,- a plaster cast, heated soft candle mixed with aloes and camphor massage, then wrapped in a black plastic bag for two days (courtesy of T's sister who has recently returned from vet school) nerve and bone tonic together with more than a few incantations, prayers and a tiny bag of 'protection', just to be on the safe side. I was really disappointed at my lack of stoicism and bravery and somewhat surprised by my overwhelming thoughts of gloom and doom! T, needless to say, rallied to the situation with endless enthusiasm and kindness, providing every need, much love, understanding and more besides. So, perhaps you can imagine my delight at being able to 'make the rounds' around Cornell yesterday! It is an easy walk, on the old estate road, that takes you up past Annandale Falls and, instead of continuing up to the dam and the forestry, you take a left by the big mango tree, just before Kool Nursery. Now the road climbs a little higher before you reach Cornell. Here, before hurricane Ivan, was full of nutmeg trees, a very cool and shady place with the foliage so dense that it was dark even on a sunny day. We were pleased to see a lot of replanting and new growth. The track levels out  now and then drops down through Mango and back into the village of Willis.

T has his breakfast as we take a five just after taking the left turn for Cornell. These stainless bowls are great by the way, they come with a plastic seal lid, from Bargain House in town, $20e.c. for a set of  5. I drink ice water and relish in the foliage and peace and quiet.

Cornell is more or less as I remember it but trees are being planted and the land nurtured.

......and I would like to stay here a while but

we continue on around the corner where we can see.....The Sea!

There is something missing from our walk, no Beres or Xena. We decided to leave them at home on this our first venture out together since The Foot, but it is strange being here without them. I think T thought he may have to carry me home, but all was well and he waited for me patiently as I foraged around with my nose in the bush that I have missed for so long.

On the way back down the hill to home, T told me all about La Diablesse

 

(This video is of the truly wonderful Richardo Keens-Douglas telling his La Diablesse story )

and how this is her toothbrush.

A frisson, a shiver of something as we walk past the plant and on down the hill and then, with a skip in my step and a happy, happy heart, home. Thank you to everyone who made me well again. I am so grateful.

Calabash

During a recent downpour a 'boli' came floating down the drain. T, knowing a gift when he sees one, brought it home for me. Having been at a bit of a loose end all  morning the unexpected arrival of a 'found thing' lifted my spirits no end. Not being able to find my hack saw, T's electric jigsaw came to mind. Having drawn the circle I wanted to cut and made the initial incision  into which to slide the blade , cutting the hole was a piece of cake. The boli must have been adrift for a while as the exposed innards were a black mush. I meant to take a photograph of this stage but they didn't smell too good and I was a bit hasty in disposing of them, jettisoning them from out of the studio window to a shady spot where hopefully the seeds will sprout.(More likely than it sounds, most everything pelted from a window seems to grow, - lime pips,avocadoseeds, papaya,blackeyepeas,passion fruit- all have sprung happily to life from where they have landed, as opposed to all carefully cultured and nurtured attempts which, more often than not, fail miserably.) I digress. The inside of the shell needed a good scrape with a spoon and then it sat in a sink of full of water with a bit of bleach overnight. I'd been reading about the Amazon recently and with this in mind and the tribal connections to river and Anaconda, the design took shape. A friend had given me some lino cutting tools a while ago,(lino.... does it still exist?) and they worked well, providing texture and preventing me from being too careful and precious. This took most of the day, such fun and I was pleased with how it came out, especially the negative space which I hadn't thought about at all. The idea was to make a salt holder, one that requires putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. On reflection, I wasn't too sure how T would react to this. There are no poisonous varieties in Grenada but historically, Grenadians do not like serpents. Over time, we have come to an understanding, regarding all those that slither on their bellies.T is now able to resist the urge to exterminate them on sight and I am able to not be so dismissive about his cultural feelings towards them.
 Now all that is required is to sand it  and let it sit a while so it can tell me whether to paint it some, add shells, seeds, beads or just let the natural patina develop as it dries and matures. T likes it.

El Diablito and the Book of Possibilities

I started working on some ideas for a still life painting this morning.  I like planning things out in a sketchbook. Using watercolour and with no particular discipline or end result in mind at this stage, I usually stick on some music, (it was The Incredible String Band today) and dive in to see what happens. It's a lovely feeling, there is no pressure or expectation as the water and paint mingle freely. I am besotted with the combination of Paynes Grey and Burnt Sienna, oranges with crimson, deep blues and emerald green. El Diablito, who believes that my work table is his, came to see what was going on and lend a paw. I imagine he'll work his way into the painting too.

Incredible String Band ~ October Song

La Sagesse

Thank you.

Burning Bush

What do you do
on those days
when the universe
appears to conspire
against you?
When hopes, dreams,
desires and the
best of intentions
are frustrated
at every turn?

T burns bush.!

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!

Falling Through the Sky

Falling Through the Sky

Bistro

In the heart of the city
on a cloudless,
sun hot,
breeze free day,
we slipped through
the arch
on Young Street,
behind the museum.

Passion fruit
was the juice
of the day,
sipped to a serenade
of national folk music
being rehearsed
behind
these doors.

The aroma of
a sumptuous feast,

escaping the
proprietor's
inner sanctum,

enveloped us.

Spellbound,
with the scent
of culinary alchemy,
we sated our thirst
with one last swallow.

The unseen musicians
dispersed,
giving us
a timely cue
to leave,
the way we had come.

It's been a busy time for 'T', what with one thing and another.
Beres the Wonderdog, still believing that he can fly, cut his foot on a broken bottle requiring a visit to the GSPCA for stitches.








 That same week, we both enjoyed the view from the waiting area, outside the plaster room at the general hospital, having discovered that pulled ligaments do not heal themselves.






Both Beres and I are doing fine.
We love you . xxx

Full Moon

I see the moon
and the moon sees me
under the shade of
the breadfruit tree,
please let the light
that shines on me
shine on the ones
I love.

Rabbit

"PLANET OCEAN" Trailer [EN]

Tribal War

There are no pictures, no record of what just happened, outside the front door, right here, in the road. No image of the thin boy with the little goatee beard who retrieved his "sharpen on both sides till it gleam  thinthin" cutlass, from the bush below the pole by next door's house, as cool as you like, after the POlice van pick up one suspect and move on, after the pick up pass and a woman's voice plead "Officer, let us pass we have four who get chop inside here" and the POlice move and let them drive down to the hospital. (A place where they can't cure your cancer but they well know how to handle chopping and unexpected amputations.) No video of them 20 or so ninja who appear from nowhere, after the POlice pass, from behind and out of  Miss UG's gap, giggling and running, strangers, not from inside of here.There is no soundtrack of the Village voices raised in anger, frustration, hurt and disbelief at what they just witnessed when the POlice come. Willis Big Red won the football match 4-1. Beaulieau lose and, pre armed, don't like that and run riot, after dark. The  Crossroads where it start, bottle pelt and thing. .They move on, cutlass, blade shining, they run into shop and chop up old lady playing' all fours' with she friend and them, small school child, who mother send her, on an errand, to the same shop for something, get a chop on she hand that she need for exam. They rage continue chop and run in by Andy the barber, chop the man who make balusters, until they bounce up with the police outside our door, where M16 rule and they run and hide in the dark and the shadow, only dogs that betray them and the POlice, SSU, RRU, CID Central, hold who they find, together with all from up here who now have axe to grind. We run from room to veranda for a better view, lights off, door locked but still, the need to see, adrenaline filled urge to witness and yet not. Is a movie, we in it and it just start.

Xena The Weather Dog

Xena, trusty hound and constant companion, knows a thing or two. Storm Carib might well have something on their radar but once Xena makes her move beneath the kitchen sink, (a feat now performed with some difficulty as she's not so nimble as before), a weather is coming for sure.

Footpath 1

The shortcut from the pasture to New Hampshire

Boundaries

More please

With thanks to Kiki for this week's Weekword

Happy Monday

We started the day in Corn Buck. It has been a long time since we went up together with lunch and a purpose. The weather was kind, no rain, and a cloud filtered sun . T had begun work up there already and invited me to join him 'just to see'.

I saw

and set to, freeing stones. There is something delightful about cutting this bush, there are no monetary rewards, no fanfares or applause but once free of vine and vegetation, the stones stand for something that I cannot explain other than to say it matters.

T took the opportunity to wash the dogs' bedding in the river, spreading them out to dry on warm river stones, which have totally different personalities from the ones in the bush.

Once home I did my share and washed the white things, a task
divided into manageable bites by frequent internet visits and refreshments  between rinses, combined with some lively music to maintain the momentum.

Forgotten

I woke to find Edward prostrate on the mat. 

Despite having had the stuffing knocked out of him he still wore that ''Don't worry, I understand'' expression.

I felt guilty. Poor Edward. How could I have forgotten him?

my apologies to Jeneveve who chose this week's Weekword and unbelievably I chose the same subject matter as she did! Her sketch is wonderful and I feel even worse for Edward now that I know I didn't do him justice!

Glimpse

To leave the village

we travel by bus to St. George's.

My favourite seat is at the very back

on the left hand-side, when sitting.

As we fly down to town, 

braced for corners and the unexpected,
listening to a favourite tune,
(click the link now to get the bus vibe )

from the little sliding window

it is possible to enjoy a veritable feast of 

fleeting images, seemingly

imprinted with a magical stamp,

on the back of the brain.

In just a fraction of a second,

just at that moment when a breeze

passes through, there it is.

The gift of a glimpse.

I wonder what these wonderful people have glimpsed this week:

Jeneveve

Emma

Peggy

and Katy!

and who to pick for next week's Weekword?

Weekword!

This week found me feeling a little lazy, but then I read Peggy's post and her delightful choice of word and illustration for Weekword, 'Sloth'! I remember thinking how nice it would be to join in,  and then she tapped me for this week! Thank you Peggy.

So, energised, enthused and honoured,  my choice for this week's 'Weekword' is:

'Glimpse'

I do hope you will join in the fun and share what you can glimpse.

Oh and by the way:

How to Weekword

Each week (hopefully on a Monday) the week’s host will choose a word to be the Weekword.
All you have to do for Weekword is to respond to the word in any creative outlet you would like – painting, writing, poetry, lyrics, music, photos, collage, mixed media, drawing, verse, dialogue, videos, anything really, and post the results on your blog.
Let the host know you’d like to play in their comments, and the host will post links to the blogs of all the participants on Friday.

 

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.

Is That Time Again.........

This year's cocoa
was dry and ready
to roast.
We had to wait for a
hot, sunny and breezy
day.

The trusty
Porkert grinder
was dusted down
and assembled.


and the
still warm beans
shelled,
 (by him with
the big hands)
ground.
 (by her with
the muscle)

and then
rolled into balls
in the palm of my hand.
The house was full
of the scent of
chocolate.
Our ears rang with the
sound of people passing
and saying
"I want some of that
when you're done."

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.

 

Roger Subirana - Point of No Return

Fun

When I made my New Year's Resolution, I knew then that, as flippant as it sounded, it was not going to be an easy one to keep. I know that fun can be found in everything that we do, from washing wares and clothes, letting the suds foam in our hands, feeling the stream of water from the pipe flowing through our fingers, to the  watching of stars and playing cards by candlelight to the sound of the river and the song of the tree frogs under the moon.
The thing is, for some reason, sometimes I forget. I forget to get up,step up, lighten up. I forget to step outside my head, that tangled interior which is mostly full of dreams and incessant narrative, and look around. This year I promise myself to remember, to deliberately set aside time for, to partake of this small sounding thing that costs nothing and yet is priceless.

Pet Projects

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

Acrylic on canvass 11" x 14".

Happy New Year!

Yey! 365 new pages!

Wikileaks or Wakiflood?

 "During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act." - George Orwell.

.....  here is one reaction.......and closer to home, perhaps a more laid back and realistic approach. 


Can Big Brother find a plumber?