HIGH UP IN THE TREES

Where are my two turtle doves? I lost them along with my six geese a-laying...

{Snail mail from Shari arrives and proves the perfect base for more (just before Christmas) new collages. Thanks again, Shari.}

{In Stellingen-Hamburg the wildlife are Christmas ready.}

The whole Christmas season has snuck up on me, not subtly, but it has snuck up on me all the same. I saw it coming, the decorations strung up in every shop window, down every supermarket aisle, the wreaths hanging proudly on front doors (and even on my own) and the multitudes of bright tinsel suspended from any fixture and from any thing, all gave it away. I heard it coming too... the Christmas jingles, the tipsy-drunken carols and glee-infused shouts of office workers making their way back home or towards the bar... yes, all of these things alerted me to the arrival of the Christmas season. I've even downed champagne with lunch.

The dishes in the sink, the empty bottles in the recycling bin, all of these little signs that Christmas was already here and yet still I sit here unprepared and generally unready. I have eaten a little chocolate each morning as I gently prized open yet another marked door on my advent calendar and there are now only two more doors remaining. Number 23 & 24 sit side by side and sealed shut but not for much longer. Come tomorrow there will only be one more door left to open.

{Omar...}

{lapping up the sun...}

{As only he knows how. A relaxed Christmas for a feline.}

So, with that, HAPPY HOLIDAYS one and all... and see you in the new, new year! ♥

Closing time.

{Underfoot.}

{Buried underneath.}

Little bits of yellowness seem to keep popping up as the weekend draws to a close.

Late Sunday afternoon finds me sitting at the computer busily loading photos from the digital camera. Photos taken inside the painting studios at RMIT as it prepares for a facelift and the installation of a lift. As the studios are stripped bare a host of beautiful marks, yellow splodges, dust and various patterns are revealed. So in lieu of a lengthy, more wordy post… here are some recent photos from my corner. Come and see what I see as we head off on a little stroll through the city. Slide your shoes on if you prefer and come with me on a little walk... I promise to go quite slow.

{Inside the State Library of Victoria finding books to real & imagined worlds.}

{Come leaf through the pages with me.}

{Take a peep inside The Ermines Tea Party - One Weekend.}

Lets wander around the Dome Gallery at the SLV and see books from the Middle Ages, books of botanical illustrations and manuals of medicinal information relating to plants, John James Audubon's The birds of America turned to a page depicting a pair of snowy owls and more, so much more, as part of Mirror of the World: Books & Ideas. (Psst... I’d love to show you our book The Ermines Tea Party - One Weekend in its cabinet opened up to the page with the large black elephant but I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with these back garden photos. As tempted as I was to click a few photos of the exhibition especially darkened to cater to the light sensitive material, I gave it a miss. Here is a peep inside our book taken early yesterday afternoon in its place. We’re so thrilled our yellow covered book has made it into this collection, that it sits in a cabinet a stones throw from so many treasures and bookish delights.)

{With wings, please.}

{Lets amble this way.}

Now, lets head off in the direction of Mailbox 141 to see small works in small mailboxes, spotting all number of creatures and marks along the way... a partially submerged creature offering a lift to a black headed character, a cat flat up a wall and a camera replete with wings. So much to see and we've barely turned a corner.

{Stuck to the wall, way up high. A certain cat appears here too.}

{Mailbox 141 - a beautiful strip of old mailboxes in the foyer with LED lights in each case, a new little art space.}

Lets find little bits of Christmas in store windows and unexpected candy canes supporting heavy scaffolding too.

{Zambesi & me.}

{Candy cane stripes before me.}

Shall we end at the movies... an advanced screening of Volver or Babel perhaps? We'd better be quick, it starts any minute now.

The last of the weekend links to follow, a random collection:
here, here, here, here, here and here.

Summer fancies.

{Four Birds on carageen moss.}

It’s been almost a year since I started this blog. Way back on the 14th of January I made my fist posting, a somewhat blind debut into the, new to me at the time, blogging world. I’d set up my blog as a little outlet for my drawings and collages and it has turned into so much more for me as the months have flown by. It has become the perfect safe harbour and has presented me with the perfect way to converse with like minded souls who I’ve yet to, if ever, meet, with those now dear chums who live overseas and a little closer to home. I was thinking about this on Sunday morning as the temperature soared to dizzying heights. Whilst many of you are enjoying the more classic white Christmas, here, in Victoria, bushfires are raging. The bushfires are not near to where we are in the inner city but the air is thick with smoke nonetheless. Here the sky is hazy and yellow with temperatures nudging the 37 degree mark (98 degree fahrenheit) for two days running over the weekend.

{Waiting... waiting for a cool change.}

{Little Omar enjoying the cool change.}

{The only flowers to survive the heat - Thelma's Felt Pins, three new ones soon to be added to the shop.}

In the beginning I vowed I’d never write about the weather on my blog, I was planning to fill it with more than mere passing comments about the wind and the rain. I have since come to realise how wrong I was and besides I’m not one to keep or stick to rules and guidelines. So, here I am, writing about the weather and the change of season that is occurring right under my very nose. I’ve cast aside any concerns that one only talks about the weather when one has either nothing nice or nothing of interest to say, and I’m realising how very different my corner of the world is from yours and yours and yours. From my perch in the treetops I have learnt to see the passing of the seasons differently and with new eyes. As Shari takes a winter stroll and Lottie walks through a rain soaked London, I am grateful to be able to walk around their local areas and cities with them. A spot of travelling for both the heart and mind. A visual feast for the eyes and all without the need to pack a bag. Without the need to afford an overseas airfare. I’ve been to antique fairs in French pockets with Corey, I've ogled at embroidered finery with Risa, seen animation take shape before my very eyes with Alyssa and ambled through a flea market in Tel Aviv with Julie... moved apartment with bugheart before preparing to hightail it to Sweden with Sabine... taken a carousel ride in nyc with Wendy, installed artworks with Lisa.S and landed a dream ship with EZB... I've even unearthed thrifted gems with Maditi. So, thank-you to you all, to you and you and you, you and you and you... to all of you who swing by and say 'hello' and all of you who just swing by. As this blog prepares to reach its one year anniversary, I think it’s pretty safe to assume I’ll be here for another year, at least.

For most of the weekend the blinds remained drawn as the house groaned in the heat. Curtains closed and only one or two lamps on in the evening, the air heavy with the smell of smoke. An increasingly muggy little house, airless and dark. It seems only fitting that in honour of all things hot, hot, hot over here that a few summery links for all of you currently enjoying beautiful wintry delights are very much needed…
cold I warm
summer chimes
gentleness
remarkable days
south
carrasqueira
standing in a garden with summer hat and flowers
a summer dress of printed crepe de chine
the summer house
summer, 1573

And for those in the Southern hemisphere, this one is for you - ice.

{She was unsure of her new owl companion.}

Ahh, and before I shuffle off, our collaborative artists’ book The Ermines Tea Party - One Weekend is being included in the SLV’s permanent exhibition in the Dome Gallery, Mirror of the World: Books & Ideas. Our yellow book, a homage to all things to do with the weekend, is to feature in very fine company (details and photos to come shortly). Changed over every twelve or so months, it’s our turn and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

periwinkles and other things seen

{Seashore Life and Pattern, King Penguin Books.}

Seen (& recently acquired)
A little list of some of the things I have seen with my peepers today (hastily pulled together).

From my secret Aladdin's Cave (a wonderful second hand store I frequent, filled to capacity with books, postcards, old tins, shaving kits, cigarette cards and footy posters) four hardcover King Penguin Books originally created for the reader with a fondness for illustrated keepsakes on a range of minority interests during the outbreak of the Second World War. Drawn to their decorative covers, as was the original intention, I picked this quartet up for a song.

I am now the proud owner of:
T.A. Stephenson’s (Professor of Zoology, University of Wales) Seashore Life and Pattern (published 1944) with coloured plates of brittle-stars, periwinkles on seaweed, fan-worms in their tubes and brilliant coloured barnacles on mussels.

Bernard Rackham’s (Formally Keeper of the Department of Ceramics, V&A Museum) detailed guide to Animals in Staffordshire Pottery (published 1953) with sixteen colour plates by the wonderfully named Peggy Jeremy... the humorous Greyhound and Dead Leveret is one of my favourites. Others include various ewes and lambs painted in enamel colours and birds with blackberries in their beaks streaked with green under a transparent lead glaze... apparently, whilst originally made for the farmhouse, they "now have an appeal even among the sophisticated".

Gold vessels from Queen Shub-ad’s grave, and bowls of lapis lazuli and green calcite from UR: The First Phases by Leonard Woolley (published 1946), a little book dedicated to his wife who helped in the excavation of the Royal Tombs.

And John Ramsbottom’s (Keeper of Botany, British Museum) handy visual guide to Poisonous Fungi (published 1945)… keep a watchful eye out for Red Staining Inocybe, Devil’s Boletus and close friend Bitter Boletus and their chum, Handsome Clavaria.

Were it not such a toasty warm day when I stumbled into the store, I fear I would have walked right past these tasty little numbers plonked just inside the door. Keep your eyes peeled for pearl pink sea anemones and top-shells and limpets in future collages (though not the originals).

(Fall in love with King Penguins here, here and here.)

{Mystery mail, part II.}

{The waxy head of a reindeer.}

Good Luck and Greetings, a mystery postcard from a photocopied duck, received in the post… our yellow beaked friend is holidaying at the Lovely Glen Finlas, Trossachs. Next stop, Siberia?

Little bits of the house that have given way to the Christmas spirit…
A white reindeer candle which sits on a plate surrounded by chocolate sweets and chrissy candies... a festive table centre piece which, on passing through the room, always reminds me of "I want you to give me at once on a platter the head of John the Baptist"… not that our waxy, white Rudolph looks anything like this.

{Hanging Christmas splendour.}

{A gnome against a night sky.}

A string of two faced gnomes, read into that what you will, (they have a face on both the front and reverse side, which is somewhat disturbing) hung around LW’s Holes punched in the night sky.

Chrissy cards hanging from a striped ribbon and a brass stag with chocolate ornaments suspended from his polished antlers. (Note to self: remove these neatly wrapped edible fancies and put them in the fridge before heading out in the sunshine tomorrow.)

And finally, new collages for Friday...

{If we stand very still no-one will notice.}

In Orsova, Romania, these three Crimson Finches try to keep their tail flicks to a minimum.

{I can't see what you are looking for. Part I.}

"To Mrs Stephenson with love from Martie", 1906. Sent for a penny and picked up for $4.00 recently... a Pacific Baza converses with a goat.

{I can't see what you are looking for. Part II.}

A postcard from Mexico sent to Miss Barbara c/o Miss Turner, reads on the reverse side - "Am posting you a letter I wrote in San Antonia."

End of week links for one and all:
Miss Maude Allan as Salomé.
Alice Guszalewicz as Salomé.
The West Indian Seal.
Sea Anemones.
The sea is ready for Christmas.
Organisms classified as Muscinae.
Shine on, harvest moon.

Happy weekend cheer to all... I'm off to light my reindeer.

Where I can blend in.

{In Cairo no-one noticed.}

A cover from a 1999 copy of Galleries (the monthly UK gallery guide, Vol. XVII No.2 July, 1999) today came in very handy. John Frederick Lewis’s A Cairo Bazaar: The Delia’l (watercolour, 1875), shown here in mirror image, now has two new inhabitants calling the desert hinterland their friend… and they’ve come with goods to sell. A Red-breasted Parakeet (Psittacula alexandri) from the Lower Himalayas and a Yellow-collared Macaw (Propyrrhura maracana) from Bolivia have travelled from their preferred habitats, their woodlands and forests, to hawk their wares in Cairo (where not everyone is happy to see them). Next stop, Tangier, to sell their garlands of dried figs from their two small shoulder bags.

And they didn’t travel alone. It seems my birds have been exploring every corner, every nook and every facet of the globe of late. The striped lovers new to Montevideo, Uruguay have made themselves at home. A pair of Shining Bronze-Cuckoos (Chrysococcyx lucidis) with their metallic green underparts, are enjoying the local colour. (Can you see them from where you are Jenny?)

{In Montevideo they could be themselves.}

Two wary and elusive by nature Common Koels (Eudynamys scolopacea) decided to stay put at the end of the Boka Kotorska Bay, in Lovcen, Montenegro. A little fjord to call their own. From here they plan to find natural pearls and maybe take up skiing.

{From here we can see the Adriatic Sea.}

And a Flame Robin (Petroica phoenicea) happily blends in in Kápolna Község.

{Where I can be myself.}

Lovely links for you to follow:
ride
journey
La Nacion newspaper (Montevideo: Puente del Prado)
hold
vacanze

Be well my friends, both near and far...

Apricot, abricot, aprikose, abrikoos.

{Up to the roof.}

{Louise begins collecting...}

{... and collecting.}

With summer due to officially arrive tomorrow, this evening we savoured the first watermelon dessert. Large, thick slices enjoyed in virtual silence save for the sounds of Race to Dakar on the telly. Earlier in the week we had savoured the first bountiful harvest of homegrown apricots, plucked from the lone apricot tree that grows near to the fence line in my parents back garden. Noble plans to grow the tree in a fan shape against the bare fence long since abandoned, the tree and its prized fruit have taken over the flat roof of my Mum’s garden studio. For the first season since its planting, this one tree has produced a bountiful harvest. One apricot tree, many, many small golden apricots suspended from its long leafy branches, ready for the picking and subsequent enjoying. Rich and creamy yellow fruits with blushing rose coloured cheeks, a plentiful homegrown crop ready for the eating. Ready for the enjoying.

{Stella oversees the operation from her yellow chair...}

{... and I assist Stella with overseeing the whole affair.}

{The end result.}

Louise scaled the ladder, climbing up onto the roof, a container in one hand, to reach the high branches heavy with fruit. The sky behind her painted a perfect blue unbroken by cloud. Mum and I guided her in the direction of some of the fruits clearly visible from our on ground vantage point… “Behind that long branch, to the left… I can see a cluster of at least three ripe ones, LJ.”… an Easter egg hunt blended together with a pantomime performance… “He’s behind you! To your left. He went that way.”

{"What puts the ape in the apricot? Courage!" sings that famous Lion in The Wizard of Oz.}

{The Egyptians usually dry apricot and use it to make a drink called amar el deen.}

{Lotus-clad Radha and Krishna, Punjab Hills, India, c1730. A postcard from a friends recent trip up to Sydney.}

Enjoying the first bites of homegrown fruit, letting the juice slide down your fingers, sometimes until it almost reaches your elbow before you decide to wipe the juice into your skin. Spitting out the stone before greedily reaching into the, now full, plastic container for more… this is how I chose to usher in summer, to find my summer stride. The macaroons of the previous day had nothing on these ripe little numbers.

Now I’m keen to go berry picking… strawberry, raspberry, loganberry, gooseberry, blueberry, all berries… though this time not in my parents relatively small though prosperous back garden, but at one of the many berry farms dotted around the outer suburbs. I’m keen to stain my fingers red as I fill bucket after bucket with various berries, walking down neat row after row. I’m keen to drive home with my pirate's treasure of red berry cargo. Berries to be turned into pies, tarts, flans but chiefly, berries to be enjoyed on their own, unadulterated and raw, though perhaps with a spoon and a bowl.

An apricot harvest picked before the family of ringtail possums beat us to it, a wonderful start to the season. A season escorted in not only by fruit but by the arrival of many calendar pages… from Marianne of Applehead and Paula of Simple Me on Monday, a further two calendar pages happily received. And on Tuesday, slid under the front door, from Julie of Handmaid, all the way from Israel, the month of May... (Thank-you all).

{Birds no bigger than a walking stick.}

And now for some edible links for you to follow as I sidle back in the direction of the fruit bowl:
Nature Illustrated: Flowers, Plants, and Trees, 1550-1900
Apricot compote.
Baku, Azerbaijan: Fruit Shop.
Baghdad, Iraq: Fruit sellers.
Antler brand apples (c1920).

Happy days to all!