a vintage bike to ride through the fields...
make believe on the beach...
lots of walks...
wellies lined up by the door...
bright shoes for a tea party...
a band of brothers in kilts...
tartans on the beach...
horses in the house...
a traditional table...
and a sparkly tree by a warm castle fireplace.
images 2, 3, 8 by Tim Walker
image 10 Philip Treacy hat for Ralph Lauren
So sad I missed the Art Jump at MoMA on the 8th...but glad I discovered Allison Reimus's blog, Jumping in Art Museums, today. Just what I needed to cheer me up! Next time you go to a museum, jump. Then send her a picture. She'll appreciate it.
image: Nicky Digital
I was walking by. He was sitting there.
It was full morning, so the heat was heavy on his sand-colored
head and his webbed feet. I squatted beside him, at the edge
of the path. He didn't move.
I began to talk. I talked about summer, and about time. The
pleasures of eating, the terrors of the night. About this cup
we call a life. About happiness. And how good it feels, the
heat of the sun between the shoulder blades.
He looked neither up nor down, which didn't necessarily
mean he was either afraid or asleep. I felt his energy, stored
under his tongue perhaps, and behind his bulging eyes.
I talked about how the world seems to me, five feet tall, the
blue sky all around my head. I said, I wondered how it seemed
to him, down there, intimate with the dust.
He might have been Buddha — did not move, blink, or frown,
not a tear fell from those gold-rimmed eyes as the refined
anguish of language passed over him.
— Mary Oliver, "Toad"
New and Selected Poems, Volume 2
Beacon Press, Boston, 1992