La Belle's Hobby Farm: Spiders vs. Worms, Round 2!

A three year old child is a being who gets almost as much fun out of a fifty-six dollar set of swings
as it does out of finding a small green worm. 
~ Bill Vaughan

O

 ne worm vs. spider bout wasn’t enough for the Bloodthirsty Gardner.

I must be three years old and forgetful!

Tia was missing from my garden one morning.  And the morning after that.  And then evening followed and on the 3rd day of the Mystery of the Missing Arachnid, I was as heartbroken as Wilbur. 

She must have had her babies and gone off to die! I wailed to my tomato plants.  Now who will protect you!?

I did see the webs of a few different spiders, which made me feel a little better.  Maybe others were taking up the slack.



A perfect circle amoung the rhodies.
© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh, La Belle Dame De Merci

 



An orb weaver with silk to spare.  Is there anything more beautiful than a web with dew on it?
Of course, there's nother creepier either.
© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh, La Belle Dame De Merci



To my untrained eye, a cross between a funnel and an orb
© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh, La Belle Dame De Merci

This orb weaver built this in the mulberry weed - right over my garden.

© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh, La Belle Dame De Merci

 Day 4 and 5 I was busy with preparing for dinner guests.  Finally, on Day 6, as I was mowing the backyard, a bright yellow spot caught my eye.  It was Tia!  She had moved her web over to the shed ~ more chance at catching dinner over there, I suppose.  She was busily wrapping up a  meal, so I left her alone.  Then yesterday, as I was picking some ripe tomatoes (sweetest I’ve tasted yet!), I spotted it.

A bag worm.

You know the kind: thin, yellowish-green, and voracious.  I was already miffed that something ~ perhaps the strong winds we had late yesterday afternoon ~ had almost flattened by my tallest basil plant. (I know they’re not supposed to look like miniature trees, but I couldn’t help it ~ I liked watching them grow!)  So I was ready for a scapegoat when I spotted Le Creepy Crawlie.  I said something along the lines of Arghsmrksmorfblah, scooped him up, and stomped over to Tia’s new home.



Yummy!  Insect burrito for dinner!

© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh, La Belle Dame De Merci

She was enjoying a rather large fly burrito.  I tossed Le Creepy onto her web and waited.

I didn’t try to sit, lounge, lean, or in any other way, injure myself by watching the show.  And as it turns out, there wasn’t one.  Again. She ran down to inspect the vibrations on her web, stood stock still for a moment, and then ran back up the web to her dinner.

Are you kidding me?

So I googled and found that, yes, most spiders eat worms.  But some spiders are picky, and sometimes, it’s probably just not hungry at the moment, only curious enough to inspect and then run away.  I did say I interrupted Tia’s dinner-in-progress.  Sigh.  I think my worm vs. spider fight promotion days are over.

For reals this time.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Abbey of the Arts 60th Poetry Party!

Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. 
~ Plato

C

hristine over at the Abbey of the Arts is hosting her 60^th Poetry Party!

Here are the rules: Christine chooses a photo, we write a poem inspired by it, and post it in the comments on her blog.  This party’s theme is Silence and Solitude.  More information here.   Come party with us!



© 2012 Christine V. Paintner

Below is my contribution.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Silencio
Silence
Is sometimes golden

or so I hear.

Today it only brings me
the parry and thrust
of endless inner voices
Taunting.

To do lists,
Appointments
Visits
I should make
Conflicts I want to avoid

Life.

Still,
when the rare moment comes
and all is hushed
within and without,
there is forgetfulness
and peace –

And blessed nothing.

To do,
To say,
To hope
To feel,
To repress,
or address.

Just me and the silver of quiet.
© 2012 Mikaela D’Eigh

Tio Five Friday: Happy Birthday, Lodovico Cardi Cigoli!

Art hath an enemy called ignorance.
~ Ben Jonson

A

ctually, Cigoli's (he is more commonly known by the name of his birthplace) birthday was Wednesday, 12 September, but Wednesdays are reserved for farm updates, so I’m posting my tribute to this early Baroque artist, who was a contemporary of Caravaggio, another one my favorite painters.

As with most Baroque painters, his subjects are religious themes or people from the Bible.  Today I share five of his paintings or sketches that I find most interesting.

Ecce Homo

According to a Wiki article, Caracaggio was also commissioned to paint an Ecce Homo around the same time and there is speculation that Cigoli was aware of Caravaggio’s painting.  He doesn't quite capture Caravaggio's realism, but the colours here are striking, nonetheless.

Sounds terribly gauche, but I love the red hat on the figure to the left of Christ!

The Sacrifice of Isaac

Comparisons are always odious, but I can’t help thinking that as good as Cigoli is, there is something lacking, some fire or passion, that soaks through Caravaggio’s work.  But again, the colours are striking.  You instinctively know that Abraham's cloak is made of velvet.

St. Francis Praying

This painting uses a little of the shadow and light technique found in Caravaggio's paintings, but not as in your face.  I like the contrast of the dark browns and greens of the foreground with the light blue and grey in the background.

And putting skulls in your paintings is always cool.

The Dispute of St. Catherine with Emperor Maxentius

I’ve included two sketches in this list because I love seeing the artistic process on paper ~ as much as something as ethereal as that is can be seen.  It gives me hope ~ because every artist, no matter how beautiful and exotic and perfect the end product may be, always starts out with a rough draft, and scribbles in the margins his ideas for perfecting and realizing his vision.

Also, St. Catherine is just a kick-ass, strong woman.  Ooh rah!

Cupola Del Duomo Di Firenze

See above.  Plus, I love paintings, sketches, and drawings of architecture almost as much as I love the stone and mortar buildings themselves.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

What do you think of Cigoli’s technique? Who are your favorite Baroque artists and why?

La Belle's Hobby Farm: There's No Place Like Home

I think all of us are always five years old in the presence and absence of our parents.

~ Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

W

hen I said I was going to share with you the story of my foray into hobby farming as it unfolds, I didn’t intend it to be a series of posts on the technical and practical aspects of gardening ~ although I knew that would figure into some of the telling.  Rather, I wanted to write personal essays of my story of starting a hobby farm while moving back with my aging parents.

And so far I’ve successfully avoided writing that part of the plot.

I feel like it would be easier if I were to write about this chapter of the story if it were about a fictional character.  But even fictional characters can annoy and disappoint you.  Just like real human beings.

Essentially, for all my extroverted ways, I am a very private person.  And since there are quite a few folks who know who Mikaela really is, it makes writing intimate personal essays a little sticky.  Yet if I can connect with just one person who is helped or comforted by my story, than perhaps shining a light into a few dark corners is worth it.  As a writer, I can’t really hide everything all the time.

So here I am, starting a hobby farm on the family property.  And to be honest, while the agony of deciding where to put the vegetable garden was due in large part to trying to figure out the best way to prepare the soil, it also came down to ~ how long will I be here? 

Translation: how long can I stand to be here?

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

To be continued….

Requiescat In Pace: Remembering the Fallen of 9/11

It’s odd, isn’t it? People die every day and the world goes on like nothing happened.
But when it’s a person you love, you think everyone should stop and take notice.
That they ought to cry and light candles and tell you that you’re not alone.

~ Kristina McMorris

T

ragedy has a way of stopping time. 

The event is over in seconds, yet to the stunned psyche, moments are magnified, speech becomes slow and slurred, a million images flash on the screen of memory, and it’s all over.

Then begins the slow work of recovery, both physical and emotional.

Today, we remember those who died eleven years ago today: those at the Twin Towers, and the first responders, the heroes of Flight 93, and the men and women who died at the Pentagon.

May their families be comforted and may we honor their memory by living lives of strength and peace.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

The City of Sleep
("The Brushwood Boy" -- The Day's Work)
Rudyard Kipling

Over the edge of the purple down,

  Where the single lamplight gleams,

Know ye the road to the Merciful Town

  That is hard by the Sea of Dreams --

Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,

  And the sick may forget to weep?

But we -- pity us! Oh, pity us!

  We wakeful; ah, pity us! --

We must go back with Policeman Day --

  Back from the City of Sleep!

Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,

  Fetter and prayer and plough --

They that go up to the Merciful Town,

  For her gates are closing now.

It is their right in the Baths of Night

  Body and soul to steep,

But we -- pity us! ah, pity us!

  We wakeful; ah, pity us! --

We must go back with Policeman Day --

  Back from the City of Sleep!

Over the edge of the purple down,

  Ere the tender  dreams begin,

Look -- we may look -- at the Merciful Town,

  But we may not enter in!

Outcasts all, from her guarded wall

  Back to our watch we creep:

We -- pity us! ah, pity us!

  We wakeful; ah, pity us! --

We that go back with Policeman Day --

  Back from the City of Sleep!



The Way I Was: How Memory Can Serve Your Art

Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us. 
~ Oscar Wilde

B

logHer is hosting their NaBloPoMo this month ~ which for the life of me I can’t find what it stands for, but has something to do with blogging every day ~ a feat that would be the death of me.  Once a year in May with Michelle Rafter’s Blogathon is enough! 

Anyhoo, they have great prompts for blocked writers like me.  Today’s has to do with memory:

Wordsworth called memory the "inward eye."  Are your memories more sight-based, or do they concern sound, taste, touch, or smell?

As I’ve mentioned before, some memories are triggered by smells, or tastes.  But when I read this question, I took it to mean that when the memory is re-lived, do you then smell those cookies baking, or hear your mother humming, or touch the softness of your favorite dog’s fur?

The Rorschach of My Mind

Pandora’s box has nothing on my hippocampus and medial temporal lobes.

I dream and re-live memories in colour and with real emotion. Monet and Freud would have killed to be in my head.  In fact, my dreams are so vivid and seem so real, that if something tragic or sad happens in my dreams, I wake up crying.  And the same goes for memories; although sadly, the strongest ones are times when I’ve been hurt by someone or experienced a frightening situation.  I remember, and my body goes into flight or fight mode all over again.

Perhaps the increased adrenaline experienced during those times makes the memories “stick” out more.  Although I have to admit, there are some memories that I can recall easily because of the copious amount of endorphins that were coursing through my system.  Whatever it is, I have my own personal Xbox

in my mind.

So why is this important for writers (or any other artist)? 

Raiding the Mental Scrapbook

This “realness” that I experience when dreaming or accessing memories has the potential to translate into plots that are more believable, essays that are hard-hitting, and poems that make the reader think and emote with me.

If I don’t believe it, you won’t either.

On the other hand, if there is too much “me” in the resulting story, then you won’t be able to take it in and make it your own.  Instead, you’ll read it and think, “Gee, it’s terrible what happened to her!”  or “What a wonderful surprise for her!”  Whereas I want you to feel the emotion I’m conveying as if it were your own memory, your own dream.

The Muggle’s Penseive

Remember how memories worked in Harry Potter?  They were captured and stored in a penseive (ha ha) where one could later step into the memory and re-live it.  Ahh, if only that were possible.  Oh wait.  It is!

It’s called a journal. 

It can be made of paper, parchment, or digital files. Words on a page, images on a screen, or voices on a file.  Catch the emotion on the fly.  Set the record straight today.  Draw from it to create a new tomorrow.  Keep it to remember who you were, where you’ve been, and how you got here.

And take us along for the ride.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

What about you?  Are your memories sight-based, or do they concern sound, taste, touch, or smell?

Top Five Friday: Impressed with Impressionism

When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. 
I told her I worked at the college - that my job was to teach people how to draw. 
She stared at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?"
~ Howard Ikemoto

A

s I mentioned some posts back, I recently took up art therapy to expand my creative horizons.  It was an interesting exercise ~ painting not being one of my artistic strengths.  But I found that I enjoyed the feel of the brush in my hand, and the swirl of colours on the canvas.  And it opened up rooms in my soul that I had forgotten were there.

We focused mostly on abstract art and impressionism.  I always saw impressionism as looking at a painting through near-sighted eyes.  But I never appreciated how Monet, Hassam, and others focused on the play of light in their paintings.  Nor how much detail there really is when you take a close look.

These are my favorite five Impressionist paintings.

Oat and Poppy Field – Claude Monet

This painting reminded me of the meadow behind my house ~ only it has cows in it and not poppies!  But the play of light on the trees, turning them into dark green giants is familiar to me. As is the perspective and the lay of the land.  Perhaps that is why I love this painting so much ~ it feels like home.

 

Celia Thaxton’s Garden – Childe Hassam

The bright colours of the flowers in the foreground pull you in to this painting.  And it too has an air of familiarity ~ but it’s the familiarity of a well-beloved book.  Doesn’t it remind you of Anne of Green Gables?

 Quiet – James Tissot

For this one, I just love the saturated colours ~ especially of the woman’s dress.  No, seriously, I want a dress like that.  And a couch like that!

The Swing – Auguste Renoir

I actually favor Renoir’s later paintings (Girls at a Piano, for instance), but this one is a good example of how impressionism focuses on light and its effects on objects seen.  I can fell the shade and the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Late Sunset – George Inness

Again, saturated colours, the play of light ~ in this case, fading light, and a long perspective.  I wish I could step into the painting and exlpore what lies just beyond those trees.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Who are your favorite Impressionist painters?

La Belle's Hobby Farm: A Pictorial Tour of My Garden

What a man needs in gardening is a cast-iron back, with a hinge in it. 
~ Charles Dudley Warner

A

nd mine is still healing.  Although not fast enough to suit me ~ I have weeds to pull, soil to amend, and tomatoes to pick.

Finally!

And I have discovered that it’s true: good things come to those who wait.  The flavor of my tommy toes is summertime distilled. The large ones still haven’t ripened yet, but the cherry tomatoes are popping up red and golden yellow every day now.  Next year, I’ll remember to tag them, because now I can’t remember what varieties I have!

Since most of you aren’t able to visit my garden in person, here is a pictorial tour.



Marigolds.  Great for keeping away pests.




One lone pink hydrangea. I think the heat burned the rest of the blooms.




And one lone purple hydrangea...




...and one blue bloom.




Tommy Toes!





My lovely Tia, guarding my basil plants with a new web.



 Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

How is your garden growing?