When I found the beautiful lady, still seductive and beautiful recumbent in her bed, a cantata of sweet moments that we shared in our youth played like a most harmonious acoustic song from long ago.
Her distinct perfume of a masterly crafted sweet wood and oil filled the space between us. My fingers itched to touch her and relive our sensuous operas of emotional expression — operas of great pleasure and pain.
Like the headwaters of a river, we are born into this world destined to float downhill where we will finally meet our […]
While we walk beneath what seems like a blue dome, what is more magical than finding a tiny blue butterfly, a spot of blue flowers, a blue stone, or a blue-feathered bird? In nature it seems like all shades of blue are compatible and unlike my interior designer friend’s home decor warning.
Alas, I’m not goddess of the world. I wander through my own idiocy, bloviate when the opportunity arises, and I would do well to observe a flower from bud to full blossom — all of which brings me to tea time. How is that?
Like a 15-second jingle, I pretty much forgot everything that I ever learned about Bartolomeo Cristofori’s grand creation, the piano. My upright piano where I expressed every emotion that played through me at the time transitioned from my secret love to a forlorn and neglected, out of tune, collector of dust.
The nuance of legato vs staccato is lost in conversation. Reasonable thinking has fallen out of tune. Sour notes meant to distract is the current composition.
Will the music die? Will the system collapse?
Yes, Edward Parone owned some celebrity and great respect from many in the world of entertainment — something I never knew until much later in our friendship. But he retired from all of that. His choice of retirement venue said it all — an unremarkable old adobe casita among a few other old adobes on a large ranch in Nambe, New Mexico.
I gifted myself with a semi-professional camera, with interchangeable lenses that included zoom, and wide-angle possibilities. It was time to leave my point-and-shoot digital camera behind. No longer could it capture what I see in my minds-eye when my true eye peers through a viewfinder.
Author’s note: This is a serendipitous story of wine, friends, daughter, and spices— a camerata (experimenting with art form) if you will. (The aria, “Song of India,” from Sadko plays in the background.) Tell me the last time that you tasted wines paired with exotic spices. You have done this? What happened when you paired a chalky Chenin Blanc with three freshly ground peppers? Did you make a slight scene when you shouted, “OMG! What was that mouth explosion?” I did. It […]
When three women of a certain age pack their cameras, board a whale watching vessel docked in Oxnard, California, destined for the […]