I remember fairy tales
The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn.

Stories of enchanted woods and jungles
Of hope and disaster
The most unlikely circumstance
But almost always a miracle

The good dragon, the fairy godmother
Talking animals and secret doors

Rabbits, toads, princes and queens,
Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood.

Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.

The procession of the equinoxes
Antiquities dealer
The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst
Gods fingerprints

I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is?

Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud.

Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm -

A fox. El zorro. Le renard.
Daily rituals,
Water w lemon
Apple
Green tea face splash

A history of happiness

Chickens.   Color.    Collage.
Yoga.   Art. Cooking.
Lists. Recording foods.

Evelyn and Alice.
Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions.
Hx of zodiac.

Constantly working for perfection
Inner outer

Nuts, lemon, lime

Keep fire of dreams alive
Read read write create read
Spells for finance and success
Altar space

You're alive
Preservation of breath
Realness if beauty, tranquility
Overcoming sorrow
Cyclical

<i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate...
Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance.

Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx.

An incredible self confidence.
Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness.

D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones.

Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures.

Be my mercury, the wings on my feet.



Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished

The art of self love.
Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets.

Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor

Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers.


Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world.


We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

The process of creation
Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word
Or fertilized in the womb
Or sprouting underground
Maybe born of the heavens long ago
Before earth and sun
Born of the stars, exploding into the universe
Or within the volcano
Deep inside the earths core
Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls
The rich colors of the untouched forest
Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight
Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering
Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world
Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs
Dandelion child

“The music playing softly over some speakers, the words oblivious to anything else going on around. "Come away with me". The little bell on top of the door opening to the street rang each time it opened.”

you are the color of jelly, sparkling and radiant.

as a fish in water, as a bird over soaring green woods.

a deer, alone and afraid - hush, the ferns,  the wind will bring comfort.

What's your favorite flower?

If we could stay inside all day,
laying on the bed together
amidst our books and papers and photographs

Maybe the lawn's on fire,
but we smile at each other
the grass stays green & there's no housework

I'll kiss you behind your ear and lead you into the garden
I'll hold your hand and give you the heart you stole
we'll drink cold water and inhale the cool breeze under a black silky sky,
liquid stars

Even if the neighborhood is under attack
we'll be ok in our house
listening to our breaths and diffusing the bombs under our bed.