Monday, August 22, 2011
Morning Musings
As You may know, I love to write. To me, Life is what surrounds You and you must celebrate every minute that is gifted to You. When I tap at a keyboard, I don't bring images of different Countries or Grand expanses. I write about what is Dearest to me. That is my Home and surroundings. I celebrate the Mornings and the Glories of my flowers that I'v lovingly planted along with Memories that I'v accrued through the Years. It is a part of my very essence. This is a short story that I penned this morning after one of my cherished 'walks.'
ONCE MORE
I awakened to the Dawn having already broken this Morning and a Cat perched next to me tentatively touching my face with His paws. My blue eyes met His green and I pulled at the sheet and summer afghan on My bed. His signal given, he bounded from the bed to the floor towards the hallway. He knew that breakfast would soon be His.
I said a silent Thank You as I rose from the bed and my feet hit the floor but didn't bound down the hall as he had. Instead, I pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top on grabbing my shoes and socks as I walked to the kitchen. By the time I arrived, 3 uniquely distinct felines were surveying their food bowls and casting glances at Me. It was their time for their morning meal and sat patiently as I gathered the bowls and opened the cans. My "Alpha' would always be served first with the 2 littermates in tandem. As they began their meals, I sat to put my shoes and socks on and headed towards the door to the garage. With a push of a Button the steel door laboriously raised itself up and I could feel the coolness of the morning air. My Second task of the early hours was now at hand.
The colors of the Day were clear and brilliant with the lawn and trees an Emerald color and the Sky a powder blue with muted clouds that hadn't boundaries, rather, angular projections of white filling in the sky. As I crossed in front of My lawn the Ruby Red of My Lincoln Roses added a Contrast to the palette and a fleeting reminder of trimming them back entered my head soon to vanish with the next vision in front of Me. A yellow school bus passed by and I could feel my heart twist in the same fashion that my back was as it adjusted itself to the familiar irregularities of the street. The Bus did not stop at the end of my road as it had often done before, for My street had lost it's children to time. They had disappeared into adults as all do who had inhabited these Homes, fashioning their own courses in life as I had once walked before. The tightness in my throat subsided with my reverie as a ray of sunlight caught and latched itself to me bringing me back to the present. I had already traversed many years passed by the time I came to my road sign.
Onto the adjoining thoroughfare I turned as I straightened my back and set myself in a determined motion. I claimed this time as mine but was sorely mistaken as cars passed my lone figure in a tempestuous scramble to arrive at their work. The atmosphere took on an acrid smell from the exhaust and my lower back contorted itself once again as I was relegated to the side of the road to let them pass. There worlds and mine would not collide today except for a fleeting passing mixed with exhaust fumes. Their mission would be run by the hands of a clock, whilst mine would be determined by the pull on the strings of my heart. I took great joy in that revelation of the purest freedom.
The creek moved slowly as it filtered through the field of the curving entry way to my rural neighborhood. It gave no clue by sound that it existed. It just quietly meandered through the greenery flowing beneath the blacktop to empty into the cattle pond where it spilled it's contents, giving the Pond Life and Life to the Pond.
Most of the activity at this watering hole had ceased earlier as the Dawn stole the Night erupting into it's brilliance. The cattle and horses munched lazily at it's edges with the Herons unperturbed by their presence. The Family of Mallards were now in the very middle lazily paddling and teaching their ducklings that safety lies in the depths rather than the shallows, a hard but simple lesson for the Young. Their presence were of a soft and unspoken beauty.
I passed the lawn of 'Just Because' named by children who had inhabited the area in those Days of the Past. A Homeowner had bought 2 lots long ago. On one was perched His 2 story house but the other was his garden. In the Spring he chose not to mow it allowing the earth to bring forth a myriad of field flowers that he'd sewn long ago that would melt into an explosive spray of white dogwoods as March set itself in place. Summer was titled the Crepe Myrtle from the lightest lilac color to a magenta then white. In the Fall, the property would be decorated by hay bales and pumpkins. I ticked another item off of My mental the list that the Harvest Season would be soon upon Us.
I took the swing back to home at the halfway point and once more felt my body adjust to it's upright posture as each foot doggedly placed it self in time to the demands of the rolling hill that I would have to contend with. My spine resumed it's natural curve as my lower back could feel the muscles tightening against the gravity that I was attempting to overcome. My ankles steadied themselves sending signals to my calves to shorten and my thighs to push through and raise each foot in synchrony. As the mission of conquering height was accomplished, I could feel the relaxation take hold as I passed the corner of the white, boarded fence. I continued my well rehearsed steps back onto my familiar lane with the roses once more greeting me and the impatiens crying out in their numerous shades "Welcome Home.". I set my feet upon the drive and entered the house through the garage, once more refreshed and renewed. I spied that the cat bowls were empty as I opened the cap on my bottled water and poured it down my parched throat. In front of Me lie a life that I had created. From a warm and inviting kitchen to the elegance of the chinoissere that held my Lladros and Family Doultons I made my way through my Home. As I passed by the Foyer I gently touched the base of the cross that had once adorned my Grandparent's bedroom and acknowledged a presence much larger than myself. I didn't need the parting of seas or manna from the heavens. I'd already experienced today's miracles in and of themselves.
ONCE MORE
I awakened to the Dawn having already broken this Morning and a Cat perched next to me tentatively touching my face with His paws. My blue eyes met His green and I pulled at the sheet and summer afghan on My bed. His signal given, he bounded from the bed to the floor towards the hallway. He knew that breakfast would soon be His.
I said a silent Thank You as I rose from the bed and my feet hit the floor but didn't bound down the hall as he had. Instead, I pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top on grabbing my shoes and socks as I walked to the kitchen. By the time I arrived, 3 uniquely distinct felines were surveying their food bowls and casting glances at Me. It was their time for their morning meal and sat patiently as I gathered the bowls and opened the cans. My "Alpha' would always be served first with the 2 littermates in tandem. As they began their meals, I sat to put my shoes and socks on and headed towards the door to the garage. With a push of a Button the steel door laboriously raised itself up and I could feel the coolness of the morning air. My Second task of the early hours was now at hand.
The colors of the Day were clear and brilliant with the lawn and trees an Emerald color and the Sky a powder blue with muted clouds that hadn't boundaries, rather, angular projections of white filling in the sky. As I crossed in front of My lawn the Ruby Red of My Lincoln Roses added a Contrast to the palette and a fleeting reminder of trimming them back entered my head soon to vanish with the next vision in front of Me. A yellow school bus passed by and I could feel my heart twist in the same fashion that my back was as it adjusted itself to the familiar irregularities of the street. The Bus did not stop at the end of my road as it had often done before, for My street had lost it's children to time. They had disappeared into adults as all do who had inhabited these Homes, fashioning their own courses in life as I had once walked before. The tightness in my throat subsided with my reverie as a ray of sunlight caught and latched itself to me bringing me back to the present. I had already traversed many years passed by the time I came to my road sign.
Onto the adjoining thoroughfare I turned as I straightened my back and set myself in a determined motion. I claimed this time as mine but was sorely mistaken as cars passed my lone figure in a tempestuous scramble to arrive at their work. The atmosphere took on an acrid smell from the exhaust and my lower back contorted itself once again as I was relegated to the side of the road to let them pass. There worlds and mine would not collide today except for a fleeting passing mixed with exhaust fumes. Their mission would be run by the hands of a clock, whilst mine would be determined by the pull on the strings of my heart. I took great joy in that revelation of the purest freedom.
The creek moved slowly as it filtered through the field of the curving entry way to my rural neighborhood. It gave no clue by sound that it existed. It just quietly meandered through the greenery flowing beneath the blacktop to empty into the cattle pond where it spilled it's contents, giving the Pond Life and Life to the Pond.
Most of the activity at this watering hole had ceased earlier as the Dawn stole the Night erupting into it's brilliance. The cattle and horses munched lazily at it's edges with the Herons unperturbed by their presence. The Family of Mallards were now in the very middle lazily paddling and teaching their ducklings that safety lies in the depths rather than the shallows, a hard but simple lesson for the Young. Their presence were of a soft and unspoken beauty.
I passed the lawn of 'Just Because' named by children who had inhabited the area in those Days of the Past. A Homeowner had bought 2 lots long ago. On one was perched His 2 story house but the other was his garden. In the Spring he chose not to mow it allowing the earth to bring forth a myriad of field flowers that he'd sewn long ago that would melt into an explosive spray of white dogwoods as March set itself in place. Summer was titled the Crepe Myrtle from the lightest lilac color to a magenta then white. In the Fall, the property would be decorated by hay bales and pumpkins. I ticked another item off of My mental the list that the Harvest Season would be soon upon Us.
I took the swing back to home at the halfway point and once more felt my body adjust to it's upright posture as each foot doggedly placed it self in time to the demands of the rolling hill that I would have to contend with. My spine resumed it's natural curve as my lower back could feel the muscles tightening against the gravity that I was attempting to overcome. My ankles steadied themselves sending signals to my calves to shorten and my thighs to push through and raise each foot in synchrony. As the mission of conquering height was accomplished, I could feel the relaxation take hold as I passed the corner of the white, boarded fence. I continued my well rehearsed steps back onto my familiar lane with the roses once more greeting me and the impatiens crying out in their numerous shades "Welcome Home.". I set my feet upon the drive and entered the house through the garage, once more refreshed and renewed. I spied that the cat bowls were empty as I opened the cap on my bottled water and poured it down my parched throat. In front of Me lie a life that I had created. From a warm and inviting kitchen to the elegance of the chinoissere that held my Lladros and Family Doultons I made my way through my Home. As I passed by the Foyer I gently touched the base of the cross that had once adorned my Grandparent's bedroom and acknowledged a presence much larger than myself. I didn't need the parting of seas or manna from the heavens. I'd already experienced today's miracles in and of themselves.
Vintage Gunne Sax Lace Jacket
This is a Rare and Beautiful Gunne sax Lace Jacket from the 70s. The condition is Flawless . The lace is attached to a satin, quilted Yoke with satin strings to tie in the front. The sleeves have a slight bell shape to them. The piece is in a lovely candlelight Color. It would truly be a Beautiful accent for a Vintage Dress or one of today's flowing Gowns.
http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=544545
http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=544545
From Night to Day
Good Morning to all! Though a little tired from staying up last night, I doggedly pulled on the Spandex and sneakers and made my way outside. The darkness was still in place and I could see the contellation of Scorpio clearly in the sky. As I turned my eyes to the East I could see that the light was cutting through the darkness revealing the outlines of treetops that would be first to claim the Sun's warmth. Though I could see them from afar, I was not joined to them for I was still a creature of the night treading upon the tarmac and and passing the glow of the solar lights. I was still a sentinel of the Darkness.
I could barely make out the Cattle pond as I passed it and yet saw the formations of the cows wading in the cool depths as they slept aright in the stillness. At this point, I pulled myself to my most upright posture and increased my stride. My quadriceps tightened and my calves lengthened to match the change of my increased height and the familiar 'burn' began as my knees acted as ratchets propelling me forward. I didn't need a written sign or landmark to signal the halfway point of my ritual, my body spoke of it clearly as it was finishing the memorized decline and the incline to be contested with after. The sky was lightening and I gave Thanks for the cool air that accompanied me and aided me as It rushed in and out of Myself in synchrony. It propelled me on and allowing me to feel each muscle as it went through it's cascade of movements to allow me the privilige of locomotion.
As I saw the form of my street sign while I was continuing my steps, a familiar sound pierced the silence of the waning night. Once more the Owl could be heard. It was a call of recognition and I acknowledged it gladly. Again it called back in a reprimanding way as if he were chiding me for not coming out earlier yesterday to share His lightless habitat. As a final admonishment. He flew above Me cutting the sky soundlessly with His wings, a bulky form that landed in the Oaks of My tree surrounded Home haughtily showing me the way.
I sauntered from the street onto my driveway and the motion detector lights gleamed harshly illuminating my way to the garage. As I walked in the door I glaved at My my richly fed cats lazing, enjoying one more nap before the dawn that would demand antics of them. As I breezed through the kitchen into the livingroom I was surrounded by the comfort of the Furniture that was once my Grandparents and My Parents after them. A tiny smile emerged upon My face. I felt at peace.
I could barely make out the Cattle pond as I passed it and yet saw the formations of the cows wading in the cool depths as they slept aright in the stillness. At this point, I pulled myself to my most upright posture and increased my stride. My quadriceps tightened and my calves lengthened to match the change of my increased height and the familiar 'burn' began as my knees acted as ratchets propelling me forward. I didn't need a written sign or landmark to signal the halfway point of my ritual, my body spoke of it clearly as it was finishing the memorized decline and the incline to be contested with after. The sky was lightening and I gave Thanks for the cool air that accompanied me and aided me as It rushed in and out of Myself in synchrony. It propelled me on and allowing me to feel each muscle as it went through it's cascade of movements to allow me the privilige of locomotion.
As I saw the form of my street sign while I was continuing my steps, a familiar sound pierced the silence of the waning night. Once more the Owl could be heard. It was a call of recognition and I acknowledged it gladly. Again it called back in a reprimanding way as if he were chiding me for not coming out earlier yesterday to share His lightless habitat. As a final admonishment. He flew above Me cutting the sky soundlessly with His wings, a bulky form that landed in the Oaks of My tree surrounded Home haughtily showing me the way.
I sauntered from the street onto my driveway and the motion detector lights gleamed harshly illuminating my way to the garage. As I walked in the door I glaved at My my richly fed cats lazing, enjoying one more nap before the dawn that would demand antics of them. As I breezed through the kitchen into the livingroom I was surrounded by the comfort of the Furniture that was once my Grandparents and My Parents after them. A tiny smile emerged upon My face. I felt at peace.
Gunne Sax Jessica McClintock Wedding Dress
I truly have a Soft spot in My heart for new brides. they approach marriage with an enthusiasm rarely found and Nowadays a practicality that has been gone for some Generations. They wish to be Partners, this dress is for that grown 'little girl' that wishes to be a 'Vision' proceeding down the Aisle. Jessica mcClintock could handily present that dream and this is only one example. I have other's on my site http://zibbet.com/artemis53 This just happens to be a New Favorite for Now!
http://www.zibbet.com/artemis53/artwork?artworkId=541669
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Morning Breaks
This is the First Writing of One of My Muses as I Begin My Days
'MORNING BREAKS'
I have been recently subscribing to the dictum that “Change is Good.” With that in mind, I am struggling against my ‘inner child’ and awakening early in the morning for a walk to start my day. As I acclimate myself to this ritual I find it to become less difficult (not easy) and immerse myself as I would in a spring fed lake that’s icy waters send shockwaves through your psyche and the term ‘awaken’ takes on a new meaning.
As is now my habit, I awaken as the night and day divide, pull on my spandex and sneakers and venture out to see what the morning holds. My clothing is not made to impress but rather to facilitate the task before me. Fashion is not to be dealt with yet.
When my feet hit the pavement, my muscles awaken from their reverie in a confusing sequence of synaptic balance sending signals to my brain that all is not right. My calves and thighs pull back as I stride forward but their efforts are fruitless. For my newfound ritual they reward me with twinges of pain that I am now able to ignore for I am in the moment and have become a part of the day.
I swing the first corner and I head for the center ‘crowning’ of the street, to aid my balance and set my center of gravity. It is now that my body reluctantly follows perfecting each step into a rhythm and retrieving the memory of my days as a runner.
As my pace progresses, the cool morning air rushes in and out of my lungs holding court with the cadence of my footsteps. It is now that I am truly able to see my surroundings and keenly take them in. The solar lamps still hold a glimmer as I approach the end of my property to illuminate my way at this time that has no name, not being able to claim the title of day or night. It is uniquely it’s own as I drink in it’s unnamed essence.
To the right of me I can make out the outlines of the “House of Broken Dreams’. It’s a large, impressive structure with turrets and gingerbread detailing that was only lived in for a year. The family that once resides in it broke apart and the house was soon to follow. Just as the owners dreams had crumbled, the house follows suit as the porch falls into decay and the driveway buckles allowing the weeds to spring from the cracks. The trees reach closer to the siding and the vining takes over the railings where it will progress back into the woods long forgotten as the persons that once inhabited it.
I pass the cattle pond and the egrets take great amusement in skimming across the water each taking It’s turn. Herons ignore their antics and gingerly navigate the shallows to find any prizes in their wake while the mallards paddle aimlessly into the depths oblivious to the activity around them.
On the white fenceposts perch the crows let out their shrieks of disapproval as I enter their newly claimed space. As I invade their territory, I can feel the burn in my legs as I as the muscles strain against the incline. My breathing pattern changes as I garnish more oxygen out of necessity and patiently await for the next turn that will be a soft decline. I am now fully awake and am able to process the true glories of an unfettered morning. The smell of magnolias rushes to me, evoking memories of years gone by and the cardinals greet me with lyrical tones as they play tag with me hopping along my pathway and rushing to the trees at the last moment.
I take my turn back when I can see sunlight touching the very tops of the trees and wonder what it really feels like to come in first. The creek throws up a light haze as it adjusts itself to a newly found temperature which will disappear as soon as it finds its balance just as I have.
I finally begin the end of my journey as I place my feet back on my street and spy the vastness of the property and my home. The Great Oaks stand mightily adorned with the Spanish moss that gives them a lace like quality and I spy the oldest one of 200 years and see my children playing in it one more time yet knowing that they are now grown. My morning purpose at an end, I begin the walk up the driveway and ponder the moment that I was once a part of and now is past. I’ve been given the great gift of another morning. I pray that I hold it close and keep a tiny bit of it’s glory for this present of a New Day!
'MORNING BREAKS'
I have been recently subscribing to the dictum that “Change is Good.” With that in mind, I am struggling against my ‘inner child’ and awakening early in the morning for a walk to start my day. As I acclimate myself to this ritual I find it to become less difficult (not easy) and immerse myself as I would in a spring fed lake that’s icy waters send shockwaves through your psyche and the term ‘awaken’ takes on a new meaning.
As is now my habit, I awaken as the night and day divide, pull on my spandex and sneakers and venture out to see what the morning holds. My clothing is not made to impress but rather to facilitate the task before me. Fashion is not to be dealt with yet.
When my feet hit the pavement, my muscles awaken from their reverie in a confusing sequence of synaptic balance sending signals to my brain that all is not right. My calves and thighs pull back as I stride forward but their efforts are fruitless. For my newfound ritual they reward me with twinges of pain that I am now able to ignore for I am in the moment and have become a part of the day.
I swing the first corner and I head for the center ‘crowning’ of the street, to aid my balance and set my center of gravity. It is now that my body reluctantly follows perfecting each step into a rhythm and retrieving the memory of my days as a runner.
As my pace progresses, the cool morning air rushes in and out of my lungs holding court with the cadence of my footsteps. It is now that I am truly able to see my surroundings and keenly take them in. The solar lamps still hold a glimmer as I approach the end of my property to illuminate my way at this time that has no name, not being able to claim the title of day or night. It is uniquely it’s own as I drink in it’s unnamed essence.
To the right of me I can make out the outlines of the “House of Broken Dreams’. It’s a large, impressive structure with turrets and gingerbread detailing that was only lived in for a year. The family that once resides in it broke apart and the house was soon to follow. Just as the owners dreams had crumbled, the house follows suit as the porch falls into decay and the driveway buckles allowing the weeds to spring from the cracks. The trees reach closer to the siding and the vining takes over the railings where it will progress back into the woods long forgotten as the persons that once inhabited it.
I pass the cattle pond and the egrets take great amusement in skimming across the water each taking It’s turn. Herons ignore their antics and gingerly navigate the shallows to find any prizes in their wake while the mallards paddle aimlessly into the depths oblivious to the activity around them.
On the white fenceposts perch the crows let out their shrieks of disapproval as I enter their newly claimed space. As I invade their territory, I can feel the burn in my legs as I as the muscles strain against the incline. My breathing pattern changes as I garnish more oxygen out of necessity and patiently await for the next turn that will be a soft decline. I am now fully awake and am able to process the true glories of an unfettered morning. The smell of magnolias rushes to me, evoking memories of years gone by and the cardinals greet me with lyrical tones as they play tag with me hopping along my pathway and rushing to the trees at the last moment.
I take my turn back when I can see sunlight touching the very tops of the trees and wonder what it really feels like to come in first. The creek throws up a light haze as it adjusts itself to a newly found temperature which will disappear as soon as it finds its balance just as I have.
I finally begin the end of my journey as I place my feet back on my street and spy the vastness of the property and my home. The Great Oaks stand mightily adorned with the Spanish moss that gives them a lace like quality and I spy the oldest one of 200 years and see my children playing in it one more time yet knowing that they are now grown. My morning purpose at an end, I begin the walk up the driveway and ponder the moment that I was once a part of and now is past. I’ve been given the great gift of another morning. I pray that I hold it close and keep a tiny bit of it’s glory for this present of a New Day!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Vintage Gunne Sax Sundress & Bolero Jacket
This one was just to good to let get by. From the velvet accented bodice to the long, flowing skirt with hidden pockets, it is a wonderful sight. Not only that, the bolero jacket is it's match with a lapel of the same rosy copper velvet. as with the typical Boho or prairie style Gunne's, the fabric is acotton blend of darkblue with a floral pattern.the identifier is a contrasting fabric in floral and stripes. This is a Gorgeous pice and be careful because it fits Me. The bust is 34", empire waist 27", hips-free and length 59". the jacket has 24" long sleeves, 35 1/2" at the bust, 16" in length and the bottom totals 33".
I pride myself on having some of the best Gunne's on the web. This one has no signs of wear and the colors are true. I hope that you enjoy it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)