Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Oh the delight of leaping out for an early morning walk this morning and finding dense fog! This photo taking some hour or so later, when it was light, but the fog is still heavy and all the atmosphere is one of chill mystery.
I love it. I love how each season has it's own beauty. If you look closely, there's much to marvel at. The cold foggyness outside, and the warm cosyness inside. I'm back in my studio, with the oil heater on behind me, and my work before me (which I'm obviously not doing).
I've just whipped outside to capture the essence of this day. The dewdrops like jewels on the bare branches of the tree.
The road disappearing off into oblivion with layer upon layer of greys.
The intricate overlays of cobwebs on all the trees, seen finally with their beaded strands glinting.


and the soft slow release of the golden leaves from branches. Letting go. Ah, where have I heard that before? I trust there is new life within.
And the all-seeing eye!

Mother's Day

I took my dear Mum out yesterday - along with hundreds of other daughters doing the same thing, judging by the crowds at the Rialto in Newmarket. That's the last of a raspberry and chocolate tart on her plate, and being fed to me in the picture below.
Then we moved on into the cinema and saw 'The Painted Veil" - ah what a movie. Second time for me. Still sniffed my way through the final scene.
Mozilla Firefox taking forever to respond to my delicate touch I think I'd better call it a night.

Life rushing by. . .

We had a long weekend last - because of Anzac Day - and I got to spend it OUT of Auckland, which was a rare treat these days. I trekked up North a little over an hour, through the Kaipara Harbour area, and then cut across the Island to the East Coast and Warkworth, where Gene lives.












Love the beautiful countryside, and the falling leaves. Just right for a 'hole up' kind of weekend at Gene's house, where he prepared a roast beef dinner for us, and we looked at photos of their mutual trip to Switzerland and France. It was almost like being there.

Dealing with the outer WOman

1pm Saturday 19 April. You may not think this a great achievement in the light of Edmund Hillary's mammoth assault on Everest but for me, personally, I had my own mountain to climb. A mountain of my own clothes!
1.30pm. Yes, here they are. . . piled on my bed, from the wardrobe, under the bed, storage containers etc. I decided to get down to what fitted that I liked, and hand on what doesn't. A truly cleansing experience.
2.30pm . . . er, but it DID require a lot of energy, and by a couple of hours, I was pretty exhausted.
3.30pm. But I ploughed on . . . and on. . . until all my piles filled up, with 'clothes that fit that I love', 'clothes that don't fit that I love', 'clothes that fit that I don't love', clothes that need throwing out', 'clothes that should be given to others', and 'clothes that go with other clothes' (jeans etc).
. . . 5pm ready to package up and deal with.
5.30. My wardrobe with a lot LESS in it, and a rack of clothes that fit, that I like, and some pics of outfits I drew so that I can reach for them on Monday morning, and just put them on.
I can't tell you what a relief it all is.

Women, gorgeous architecture, journaling. . .

I've spent the last two Saturdays at this workshop for women in business who work from home. We met in the house of one of the ladies, and it is scrumptious! Architecturally designed (along the lines of Frank Wright), and spectacular views over the Manukau harbour. This top photo from the deck outside the dining room.
I mean, even the bathroom was lovely - I adore the glass basin.
There were only 7 or 8 of us, and this is during a break. Spent our time doing things like journaling, or 'meditating' or mapping our future plans.
And we also played a lot. Spent the afternoon with clothes, learning about our colours and the style of dress we suit - I am a 'creative romantic' hee he. What a surprise. Watch this space - I'm going to burst out of my 'administrator' skin.
So how lovely the stonework is, and the way the glass comes all the way down, and the outside so mimicks the inside, that it looks like a mirror image. Wow.
Another lovely outside shot.

Little house of horrors

This is going to be a long one - but I couldn't resist. NO WONDER I've always been drawn to a bit of fantasy! I went to visit with my parents last night, enjoying a meal and some tv with them, and then I went to the bathroom . . . now it may not help that recently I've read a good vampire book (and seriously, I don't read these usually), but with my mind slight attuned to such things, it wasn't a stretch to see in the common every day objects that clutter the parental abode, some actual horrors - and I didn't even have to move them in any way. See what I mean. . .
My nephew had moved the arms off the toilet roll doll and put them in the pot pourri some time ago, where they still reside. . .
and SHE still holds a toilet roll - WITH HER ONE EYE AND NO ARMS!
Behind the door is this macabre article. . .
In the kitchen is this hanger I made for utensils, covered with the mesh of a sieve. . .
behind the bedside table a crocodile paw hangs out. . . I mean!
Ashley made these fimo 'grass monsters' years ago, and they still live on the dining room window sill . . .
But this little glarey one was apart from its fellows creeping around an old house. . .
and as for the hatless woman and the terrified doll behind her. . .
and this Hound of the broken cup holder. . .
or the missionary in the pot in the bookcase on my father's side of the bedroom
words fail me to explain these family 'heirlooms' in the china cabinet. . .
and why my mother still uses the old pottery head that I made as a teenager for a pencil holder
Look up, and something bizarre and not a little creepy hangs overhead . . .
Like I said. . . creepy. . .
And what a row of four Scotsman are doing scuffling out from behind some wooden artifacts . . .
. . . a waxwork in the bathroom . . .
and last but not least, a GREEN 'LIGHT UP IN THE DARK' SPIDER crawling up my grandfather's photo in the bedroom.

Library Executives. . .

It may well be my last day in the library at the University today - hardly anything to do yesterday afternoon, and as you can see, little today. AND none of the executive present to pour a dampening influence on my enthusiasm. Poor Michelle the receptionist got dragged into learning how to use the library camera, and the movie function, and starring in the movie as well. If I had any sense I wouldn't put this up here, it's not flattering, and what if someone googles 'AUT Library' and finds it?
If you can't have fun on your last day, when can you? I'm safely within the confines of my own studio at home now, and SHOULD be working here.

Stop Press: A review from a viewer has just come in and I thought I'd publish it here if my hands and sides will stop shaking with laughter. . .

Film Review: “Executive Vacuum”

An initially disarming and then gripping portrayal of power and passion in the sterile, academic setting of a university library. A coup during the absence of the executive staff leads to the dizzying rise through the ranks of two women who, in a Thelma-and-Louise-esque feminist adventure, find themselves out of their depth, trapped in roles they grabbed for themselves and then cannot relinquish. The central drama is furnished by the interplay between the powerfully-portrayed personalities of the leading characters. Tension builds as the acquiescent receptionist pleads, “What are we supposed to be doing?” This plaintive cry for purpose, dignity and identity is pungent, as she senses she is being dragged along by a stronger, more forceful personality who is pursuing her own fantasy of unattainable goals and unsustainable follies. The receptionist’s horror and then compliance with Jenny is evocative of 1940s Germany, aware of the madness of her dream-merchant dictator, aware of the hideous fate that her choice to follow is dooming her to, and yet willing to embrace the leader’s Quixotic foolishness with glee. An ever darker theme that threads through the film, underlying the apparent capriciousness of the Jenny character, is the evolution of her power-mad megalomania. She relishes the opportunities that fate has delivered to her: a power vacuum and a coercible accomplice. The viewer can see her pathology gestating from initial assertion of control over her colleague to the chilling climax where she gives ululating voice to her Messianic delusion: “We are the library!” “We make all the decisions!”

««« ½ JC

Chocolate??

Now don't get me wrong - I love chocolate. This is a scan of what I have left to eat sometime. I think I'll find someone to share it with. . .
Quite HOW chocolate got mixed up with Easter I don't know. The pagan egg symbol works for me, because it speaks of new life. I guess I can make chocolate mean JOY and divine food, and that's all part of the great celebration. I'm hoping that when we are all gathered around the Wedding Banquet in the culmination of the Ages, there will be chocolate in front of me as well. Guilt-free of course, because I can't get fat. It reminds me that my Lord has a great sense of humour. Years ago, when first I encountered Weight Watchers - in my early years of teaching in my twenties, and joining my flatmates in an effort to keep our figures trim - it was a spartan diet indeed. All I remember of it was cottage cheese and tinned tuna, and lots of lettuce. I remember coming home from a WW meeting, feeling despondent and slumping down on my bed and reaching for my Bible for a bit of comfort. Imagine my delight upon flapping it open, to find my eyes falling on a section of Isaiah where it said something like, (describing the marriage supper), "there shall be meat with fat, and wine on the lees" - the very things I'd been told to avoid. I roared with laughter, and still get a kick out of that. And believe me, I'm counting on those words being totally, 100% true!

Good Friday

It's come around again - Good Friday - and I've let my dough rise overnight, and kneaded it again this morning, and let it rise in buns while I walked for an hour. Then made these dense little yeasty hot cross buns out of it, and handed them around the neighbourhood.
There's only these left. I, of course, am ever mindful today, especially as I walked in the rising sun, of the reason for the buns, and the sun rising, and life as I know it. He truly is the bread of Life, and because of the great Love He Is, we can see light where there was only shadows and death before. The words of one of my favourite old hymns comes back at such times:

See from His hands, His head, His feet
Sorrow and Love flow mingled down
Did ere such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown

Were the whole realm of nature mine
It were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my life, my soul, my all.

Amen to that!
My delightful mother!
My beloved father!
and last Wednesday night, a large portion of the clan gathered at my oldest brother's place to meet my cousin from Pennsylvania for the first time in 20 years, and her husband and two kids. They're over for two weeks, and presently touring the country.
This is big bro Steve and one of his cats, down at the foot of his section, checking his bait trap.
Some of the kids hovering in the setting sun.
and my cousin Liz and myself. She's around 10 years younger, slightly taller, and just gorgeous. ALL our other cousins seem to be long, slim and dark haired, and our family turned out to be, well, almost opposite! Ha ha. It's been 19 years since I stood in her father's living room with her in front of the grandfather clock.

Light of heaven

Sunrise over Te Atatu Peninsula, Auckland

I tried uploading the beautiful music that goes with the poem below, but can't. It's the music to 'In My Life' by John Lennon.

We've been looking at the eternal things that existed in the garden in Genesis 1 and 2, and also in Revelation 21 and 22. I find myself thinking especially these days about the Light of the World and how He is the original. There's so much about that throughout both testaments. It reminded me of the words of a song I wrote when I was working from a trailer home in Maine, for Gene. Sometimes it felt very lonely, and dark, away from family, friends, and the church I met with in Atlanta. It's a prayer I do not often find myself saying but which means a great deal to me. I know, it has a certain arrogance to it, but believe me, ALL the light, and ALL the glory, come from Him, and any revelation I might have had, or will ever have, comes out of that indwelling Lord. This is true of me, the individual, and definitely true of Her, the church.
When I was reading about these things, I was surprised to see that the first thing God uttered were the words "Let there be Light", and one of the last things spoken concerning the Bride, is that she no longer needs the moon and the sun, because He has become that to her. In the middle, however, is the period of time we have here, when He has made it our task to shine for 'a city set upon a hill cannot be hidden'. Let Him shine. . .

Light of heaven, shine within me
Let your will be done, your ways be shown
In my depths I see such glory
More riches than I have ever known
As a vessel I receive you
The Light of the world, so bright in me
Nothing will be dark or hidden
Your grace is at work, invisibly

Light of heaven, burn within me
Reveal yourself, for all to see
What a shining revelation
I can know you more perfectly
My body must be broken
It cannot endure such radiancy
I will walk out in the open
with you as my lamp, eternally

Light of heaven, overwhelm me
Open my eyes that I might see
All these things that now surround me
Are shadows lost in eternity
Shadows lost in. . . you