Archive for the ‘flowers’ Category
you make me think, i give you a rose
And an award! Don’t forget about the award!
In my absence from the Internet, I was named by the lovely Bella at Public Musings of a Mama as a Thinking Blogger.
Grazie! Grazie! Thank you! Thank you!
Now what’s this all about you ask?
There are 3 rules:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the “Thinking Blogger Award” with a link to the post that you wrote.
So here are five bloggers that make me think, and that I highly suggest you visit as well:
1. Sara at Moving Right Along. Sara writes beautifully and honestly about tough and light-hearted subjects alike, all while keeping a fantastic sense of humor.
2. Corey at Tongue in Cheek. Corey shows us France, California, and wherever else she lands through gorgeous photos and words.
3. Judith at Think on It! Whether it’s about food, fashion, culture, or anything really, Judith truly does make me think on it.
4. Ninotchka at cease cows, life is short! Ninotchka always has an awesome photo and story to share about her life, husband, children, and Charlie the Chocolate Lab.
5. goodthomas at, well, goodthomas. Beautiful writing mixed with unique, thoughtful observations–can’t ask for more in a thinking blog.
Honestly, it was difficult to narrow this list down to five; I could’ve given out many, many more of these awards. In fact, if you see them in my sidebar, they make me think. So take some time and visit those folks as well, would you?
Ah, I promised flowers! Here are 5 shots for the winners to share, and also for all of you to enjoy–we’re all winners today!
My roses as seen this morning.
Have a lovely weekend, and keep thinking!
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[tags] blogging awards, thinking blogger, roses, flowers[/tags]
top o’ the morning to ya!
As I type this at 2:30 in the afternoon, it’s raining. Hard. Again.
But it was an absolutely gorgeous morning, and for the first time in a (too) long while, I went out and about and took some photos.
First, some of Luna Balloona.
Chillin’ in the piazza.
At attention.
Her response to “Work it girl! Bring the sexy back!”
Also known as the over-the-shoulder-come-hither.
Now, other nature.
A precocious fig tree that already has most of its leaves; village in background.
And, last but certainly not least, the first wild daisy that I’ve seen this year.
Even when it’s raining, may you always walk in sunshine.
–paraphrased Irish proverb
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[tags]dogs, figs, daisies, flowers, calabria, southern italy[/tags]
Love Thursday: Flowers Dried with Love
I’ve read that it’s bad luck to have dried flowers hanging around the house because they are a symbol of death–although that idea seems to be eroding a bit, proving that even ancient Chinese philosophies can be guilty of old wives’ tales.
Maybe I’m taking a risk, but I love flowers in any form, and I don’t see any reason why you can’t still enjoy them for what they have become.
Overlooking my house’s only staircase is this wrought iron structure. I started hanging bunches of flowers on it about three years ago, although there still aren’t very many bouquets. This is because most of the flowers I receive, buy, or pick can’t be dried as they’re too fragile, but see those yellow ones? Those were my very first International Women’s Day mimosa.
And although it’d be romantic to say that the big bunch of roses in the upper right corner were from P to mark some special occasion, it’d also be a lie. P’s more of a pick-flowers-on-the-go kind of guy, which suits me just fine–I don’t do well with fresh roses as I’m slightly allergic (my mom is full allergic). Plus I’m more of a wildflowers kind of gal anyway.
The roses you see were actually found in a rubbish bin near one of this village’s thirteen churches. Only one of the churches still operates regularly, but for every church, there is at least one woman who opens it up weekly, cleans it, and puts in fresh flowers, candles, prayer cards, etc.
When I saw those roses, still mostly alive although admittedly past their prime, outside one of the smallest and best hidden churches, I marveled at how much care goes into beautifying something that only one other Being sees–that one other Being being the whole point of having the church.
And the little bouquet of red in the middle? In this village, we have many immigrants from Africa and Colombia as well as Kurds from Turkey and Iraq. Just after I arrived came Helen, a nine-year-old Ethiopian girl who had come here with all the men in her family; at that time, there were no other immigrant girls or women (although now there are, as many have rejoined their families).
Both of us hungry for some female companionship, we forged a friendship, taking walks, picking wildflowers, drawing (I keep a stash of colored pencils for children guests, well, and me), and learning Italian together–she much faster than I. One day when I answered a knock at my door, I opened to only fresh air. Then I looked down and saw a small bunch of roses lying on the doorstep. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Helen’s head popping back behind the corner.
When I was thinking of a Love Thursday post, I thought of these dried flowers and how even though some may simply think of them as dead and ready for the rubbish bin, I keep them as reminders of times past–good and bad, but mostly good.
Either way, every bunch has a story.
Only as I was taking this photo did I realize that there happens to be a big heart in the middle of the iron structure, so maybe (hopefully) even under Feng Shui principles, that counteracts the death vibes.
Yes, of course I had noticed the heart there before, but you know how sometimes things around you become so commonplace that you don’t appreciate their uniqueness anymore?
Guilty.
But I like to think I’m getting better.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
ode to march
For my second Monthly Musings, it’s time to tackle big bad March.
I had originally planned on posting each Musing on the first of the month. Yes, I know March is nearly over, but since I made up this meme only for me, I can make up the rules as I go along too. Kinda like Calvinball, for those of you who remember my fascination with a little boy and his tiger.
Anyhoo, I’m most definitely not a poet, but this time, I decided on a haiku–thanks for the inspiration Bella and Guinness Girl!
Maybe I’ll do this for all the months now.
Or maybe I’ll change my mind come April.
I love power.
Me and My March
Flippant, fickle month
Warm, cold, wild, calm, cruel, and kind
My kindred spirit.
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[tags]march, poppies, flowers, haiku, poetry[/tags]
sunday scribblings: inspiration
Prompt #51: Inspiration
Oh the irony that I vaguely posted on this subject a mere two days ago, and here I am doomed blessed to revisit inspiration once more.
I’m not going to lie to you. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was the 1984 heart-warming ditty of Chicago, “You’re the Inspiration.” But since I have no specific memories attached to that song other than singing obscenely loudly (hardly unique to this tune), let’s move on.
Let’s talk about writing. Again.
Many writers refer to their projects as their babies, and I feel the same. If we’re lucky, the reward is a healthy, well-composed baby, and the path to get there is paved with inspiration–great when it’s around, torturous when it’s in hiding.
For me, inspiration comes when it comes, and there’s just no amount of pushing that’s going to convince the baby to come out until it’s ready. (I’d say “good and ready,” but this writer certainly cannot guarantee goodness the first time around.)
As far as I know, there’s no writing inspiration equivalent of a C-section just yet, and doesn’t sound like a particularly enticing idea anyway, but I do hear that walking around sometimes helps move labor along; with writing, I have to agree with this tactic as well.
Breathing fresh air and connecting with other living things–people, animals, or simply nature in general–often gives me that extra push I need to complete something, to break through a mental block, to inspire me to continue. And this isn’t limited to just writing. That load of laundry that’s beginning to move by itself? The floor that hasn’t been mopped since B.O. (before Obama)? The layer of dust that blurs my niece and nephew’s photographed faces?
It’s not a sure thing, but all of these chores have a much better chance of being tackled after I reintroduce myself to the outdoors.
Procrastination? Nah. Inspiration!
And there’s no better time than Spring to drink in all the inspiration I can stand.
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[tags]inspiration, writing, spring, primavera, flowers, sunday scribblings[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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