Sunday, February 21, 2016

The eye of a needle.

Not overwhelmed by the art, I wandered around looking at other things.

Someone had ordered a flower arrangement and said:
I want something different.

If I had R 50 000 lying around, I might have bought this sculpture.

My mother remembers Tretchikoff selling his paintings in Garlicks - a department store in town, in the 60's.
She found them rather awful, though my grandmother had his "Lost Orchid" hanging in the hallway, above a half moon table with a crystal bowl of Gerrie Hoek dahlias from the garden.
I often fell asleep with that picture in my mind, imagining the woman who had lost her corsage.

What a pity is elitism. That a ticket for the exhibit costs R120, putting it out of reach of the majority of the city.

Our moody valley.

If you don't act fast, you share everything with the birds.

I don't mind. The figs on our small tree were honey-sweet and delicious.

There is a new star in the garden: the Andean Manzano chilli. Inside, the black seeds sit in a brain-shaped cluster.
The plant has dark furry leaves, the flowers are purple. Medium hot flesh, very juicy and fruity.

The bee balm bush is full of shaggy flowers. A plant wonderful in so many ways that it has been named several times. Bergamot, horsemint, oswego tea and monarda.

I am reminded of a woman I saw at the art fair - she wore her hair as extra clothing - a scarf, a shawl, a floating set of sleeves.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

My Valentine.

A quiet man.
He lays out my clean laundry in interesting combinations.

When I'm down, he doesn't leave me alone until I crack a smile.
For Valentine's day, he gives me bunches of lilies and heart-shaped Lindt.

Not bad for a non-believer.