Charming doorways

Do you find yourself taking pictures of the same subject over and over?

I just glanced through my photos and there are at least 50 doorways.

At least.



I can't resist the stone steps, the climbing ivy...


... the wonderful weathering.


Climbing roses seem so charming around a doorway...



... while others say, "welcome!"


I loved the whimsical tiled canopy on this doorway, like an eyebrow almost!



And the timelessness of other doors speaks of a slower, gentler era.



Our doorway is so plain when I look at these and enjoy their unique details.





Our own doorway is a Plain Jane. France and Italy have taught me I need to add a special touch. What fun to dream something up!

But plain as it is, our very own door is the sweetest one of all to me.

There's truly no place like home, is there?

Terres et coleurs

Terres et coleurs. Earths and colors.

What an amazing riot of colors crossed our paths in France and Italy.


What fun to shop from the street market's ceramicist...


and wander the ochre mines of Rousillon.


"Don't wander there," Dominique told me, "unless you don't mind stains that will not go away."

She shook a warning finger.

"The earth is strong here."

And she was right.


And it's not just the earth itself that seems to glow from within. The buildings echo the colors you see in the landscape.


I brought home pigments from the ochre mines with the dream of ragging my kitchen walls and formulating paint and ink to use in my work.

The sky and earth colors come to roost on the buildings here, almost seeming to glow.


And it's not just the buildings that reflect the terres et coleurs. The spices you see in the open air markets, the cheeses and vegetables are a brilliant visual feast.



But there are also places for the eye to rest, gentler shades and hues and tones.

Plane trees along the roadway.


And quiet versions of the landscape's vivid shades.

There is something essential about these colors, something built to last.

I'm completely smitten.

Of patisseries and Pompeii

I should be ashamed of myself, eating my way across France and Italy.

I should, but I'm not. It wasn't my fault. Those patisseries are irresistible.



Who could possibly pass them by without stopping for at least an eclair or a tiny raspberry tarte?


Since I went with an adorable husband who is also a foodie, we stopped everywhere.

Here a pain chocolat, there a diminutive loaf of fig bread. We munched our way from one city to another.

After all, how can you say you've really experienced a place until you've tasted it, right?





And we passed many of them without stopping for so much as a drop of cafe latte. Just a peek through the tempting windows was eye candy enough after you've already tried tuiles and chocolat chaud, meringues and apple pastry.





And then, just as we decided that the bakers of Europe have perfected the high art of baking, we wandered into Pompeii...

only to discover bakeries very much like this existed even then, with commercial ovens and bakeries that had counter top displays and plumbing in their shops.


It would seem that bakeries in Europe have been tempting passersby for centuries!

I don't know if women ages ago came home determined to copy the goodies they ate, but I am searching the web for recipes for those light and airy macarons I tasted in Aix-en-Provence and the fig bread we munched in Villefranche. I can hardly wait to heat up the oven!

A taste of Paris (or Nicee or Aix-en-Provence) right in one's own kitchen. Yum.

Crossing the pond again

The bags are packed and waiting in the hallway. It's only two small carry-ons, since losing my luggage was a bit too much adventure last year.



I'm hoping you will join me through the eyes of the camera these next weeks, as I'll be working on a Royal Caribbean Cruise ship sailing to Spain, Italy and France... and then doing it all over again.


I'll wave at you from Barcelona!

Around home

Perhaps it's only me, but in the autumn light everything appears honeyed.

Crisp morning air, russet apples, trees marching in rows down a field... it all seems coated with a thin film of gold.



I was out on my daily jog, trailing three silly-looking dogs and snapping photos like a tourist yesterday when two car-loads of strangers drove by slowly and stopped.

They gazed at me with questioning looks, and I could almost hear them thinking, "Looks ordinary to me. What's she taking pictures of- that dumb branch?"

After a moment I could see them begin to laugh, and off they went.



But there I stood with my mouth hanging open in awe.

Isn't it absolutely amazing how gorgeous a branch can be? Even an ordinary one.

Then the dogs and I trotted toward home, geese sailing overhead and wind ruffling our hair.

Design from a grasshopper's leg

There he was, nibbling on my winter squash, bold as brass.

I know it, I should have squashed him, but instead I hollered over the fence, "Susan, there's a gorgeous grasshopper over here!"

Susan's boys are still young enough to be fascinated with the things I find captivating... you know... grasshoppers, frogs, snips & snails & puppy dog tails. That sort of thing.



Pretty soon I was taking a bug's eye view, giving the little guy his own photo shoot.

Isn't he amazing?

People are always asking me, "where do you get your ideas?"


If I told them how inspiring this grasshopper's leg decorations are, how endlessly fascinating his segmented abdomen, how lovely his brassy wings, nobody would believe me.




But today I learned a world about design and beauty and balance. There was a whole lesson there for me, placed in my own backyard by the Creator Himself.

And He packed it all in one neat and tidy package: a grasshopper sitting on my winter squash.

Samuel and the garden hens

Mornings gathering eggs are magical.

The only thing that can make it even sweeter is the laughter of a little boy.

The pictures tell it far better than my words can do...


(Insert giggles here.)


The chicken wanted a bird's eye view of Samuel, and Samuel wanted scrambled eggs for lunch.

Those hens gave up and decided to take the ladder down to the ground floor...


Love that wee little barnyard in the corner of the garden.



Eggs hide in the straw.

Rain drips from eaves.

There's bread rising on the back of the stove.

And a little boy visiting.


Life is good.

Bonfires & other autumn delights

One of the joys of living in a rural area is the fun of gathering for an autumn bonfire.

And so it was that we gathered last evening in Jim & Becky's horse pasture for marshmallows and hot dogs, served up by the crackling fire to the accompaniment of laughter and wagging tails.



Behind our home, the barn is looking worse than ever. I wish our neighbors would fix the dear old thing. One of these days it's going to blow down and I'll be sadder than sad.

The cornstalks are still standing in the field beyond but the crop is past. Summer is only a memory now.

We're still delighting in blue skies and crisp morning air, even as we look to the rainy days ahead.



Still hiking on the occasional glorious autumn afternoon, and feeling dwarfed by the majesty of the mountains. Can you even spot me in the photo?

I've been working on a series of botanicals, and snapping reference photos to use in my work.

But believe me, it's not all hikes and bonfires around here! Tomorrow I'll share sneak peeks at the messy studio, the snippets and scribbles, and the finished art emerging from the scissors, pens and brushes lately...