Every time you go to the Arthur R. Marshall Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge, at the northernmost part of the Everglades there’s a very good chance of an alligator meet-and-greet. This is not an every day kind of South Florida encounter, but since there’s water everywhere, it’s never out of the realm of the possible. I’ve […]
Does remembering, which is all we can do with passing time, make everything and everywhere too much like a dream? Some places are more like that than other places. I don’t think this garden, part of the Society of the Four Arts in Palm Beach, was meant to be like this, it was designed and […]
I’ve never had two exhibits opening at the same time, so the last few months and weeks and days have been completely tunneled-visioned. So when the last boxes of artwork were sealed up and sent, following the challenge of fitting eight double-weight cardboard cartons into a Mini-Cooper, (duh, the answer is, you can’t), after all […]
Walking in a place empty of people carries with it so much more than it should, don’t you think? You go there to be alone, to think, or to try not to think, to get away from crowded malls, from tweets, emails, tv, and all of the things that you have to do. But take […]
A few hours from now, just short of ten minutes away, President Obama and Mitt Romney will be squaring off in their final debate before the elections. It looks like the entire world has gathered on the campus of Lynn University, network vans and satellite dishes and barricades and nearly everyone I see on tv […]
It’s strange sometimes how you need to blog and then don’t want to blog – it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with mood, or activity, or inactivity, or restlessness. Maybe that’s why there isn’t a textbook cure for writer’s block, or artist’s block. It all just starts and stops for a combination of […]
Long weekends stretch things out, so there seems to be time to collect and hoard images – they pile up and fall on you, like most things do. Spiny back orb weavers in the backyard, hairy lichens, old Frankoma and a red beaded bracelet found at the antique fair, a necklace made from Halloween stickers […]
The Dadaists would have loved Route 1. In this part of Florida we call it Federal Highway, which makes it sound starchy and solemn. But it’s not. At all. In a way, it’s a mess here, all mismatched strip malls and empty lots, broken concrete, abandoned shops, car dealerships, billboards, with confusingly brand-new Italianate town […]
Just a few minutes outside, with a library book, in shade, on the grass, near pentas, next to a hedge, under sky. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.
A slow soft Sunday of small things.