Fishing with Mama

Summer smells....moist overgrown grass, beach, air just before the rain, earthworms at the bait shop, cocoa butter suntan oil, watermelon and cucumbers. Summer textures....sand underfoot, salty wet hair, cool grass, cane poles in hand, slimy seaweed, grilled corn in my teeth, and warm tomato juice running down my arm. The summer is fully of flavors, textures and smells.
It also reminds me of fishing with my mom....against my will, of course. I hated it because my mom's idea of fishing was taking her cane pole to some mosquito infested lake or river, surrounded by tall grass full of snakes. It was also unbearably hot. I really did not understand what she found appealing about it. But she loved it and wanted to go every weekend. Mom would threaten us to be quiet (for fear of "scaring off" the fish) and watch my baby sister to make sure she did not fall in the water. I would attempt to make it tolerable by bringing a soft cotton blanket to sit on and some yummy snacks to eat, but at thirteen years old, "fishing with mama" was not my idea of fun. I wonder if I have children one day, will I make them do things that they hate and will later write about? That's funny to imagine.

Frog Songs

I recently read an article in Oxford American about these folks who go out to listen and record frog calls during the wee hours of the night. Apparently, here in Florida, frog species are diminishing greatly and researchers are discovering yet another consequence of urban sprawl. The article was a bit depressing but it was full of vivid descriptions of these riotous reptiles and the variety of their songs. I've since made it a point to listen carefully when I'm outside in the evenings, especially after a summer rain, and try to distinguish the different calls. Some frogs make a sound like glass marbles clacking together, while others chirp or groan. Another interesting fact I discovered in my reading is that Florida is being invaded by the Cuban Tree Frogs who are eating much of the native frogs. Weird.

I've always loved frogs and have fond memories of collecting the green tree frogs that gathered on our window next to the front door. One evening, after Wednesday church, we came home to find a ton of them on the window—sending my grandma and brother inside screaming. My brother's mission, upon our return was to take the bath he was SUPPOSED to have taken before church. He made the mistake of sitting on the pew in front of my grandmother, where she could clearly see the "pile" of dirt behind his ears. Needless to say, she nearly twisted his ear off and told him to go straight to the tub when we got home. I relished my brother's circumstances and took the opportunity to return a mere fraction of the torture he'd bestowed me on many previous occasions. I gathered as many frogs as I could fit in a mason jar and quietly opened the bathroom door and before he realized what was happening I dumped them all into his bath water...it was glorious...simply glorious!
After my brother ejected himself from the tub like a 4th of July bottle rocket, I was doubled-over laughing, holding an empty jar with rain frogs jumping all around me. I did get in a tiny bit of trouble, but it was well worth the "I'm disappointed in you" lecture from my grandmother, while Papa winked and smiled at me behind her back. Then, I carefully gathered all my lime green buddies and returned them safely to the great outdoors and went to bed early with the biggest frog-inspired grin on my face.

Beetles & Beauty Queens

I am fortunate to have a grandmother who keeps tons of old family photos. The "Beauty Queen" in question is my mother. I think she was only about 14 or 15 years old and according to her handwriting on the top of this photo, she placed in the "top ten." It's a Southern thing, I guess...pageants. I have personally never entered a pageant and find the contemporary pageant culture a tad wacko. It was early 1960s, though, girls did not wear much makeup and there was no bikini contest. It was just cute, local, girls in their glamorous best. This photo was exciting to find, because my mother is the LAST person you would every imagine in a pageant. She was a tomboy who preferred a cigarette on her lips over a dash of lipstick. She was tough, strong, and sometimes a little crass, not exactly the prissy beauty queen we think of. The beetles represent freedom and ingenuity for me. They are so powerful and strong. I love their hard exterior shells, rigid, segmented legs, and their structured underbellies. Many people find beetles icky, but for those who take the time to explore the microcosmic world in which they live, you will discover a noble and diligent species who work very hard and contribute so much to the planet. I guess I find similarities between beetles and "the" beauty queen. Tough, exterior surfaces hiding tender insides. Sometimes repulsive and crass, never prissy, but forever present.

Pear Belly

As I stand in front of a display of gorgeous summer fruit in my local grocery, the smell reminds me of over ripened pears that fell off the tree, just outside our back door, growing up. The pear tree was planted along the fence line, so it was a perfect summer snack for the cows. The big bellied beasts would stretch their necks through the barbed wire fence, seemingly unfettered by the prick of the barbs. Their fur getting tangled and leaving evidence on the fence of their activities. As their necks stretched and strained, their pink, nubby tongues extended out to curl around the juicy piece of fruit. I would watch them and then feeling sorry for one who couldn't quite reach, I'd pick up the out-of-reach piece and dangle it above her nose, holding the pear by the stem. She would wrap her tongue around the pear and brush my fingers with her sandpaper tongue. The feeling always made me laugh and squirm at the same time. If you've never looked directly into a cow's eyes, you should. They have the prettiest eyelashes and those sweet pear bellies are just irresistible.

I Choose Happy

I'm a typical moody artist and as a result, I struggle with "happiness." The concept seems simple...but I think everyone can relate to it...it's not always easy being happy.

Recently, I discovered the philosophy of "choosing happiness." I saw "Choose Happiness" on a piece of art hanging in an artist's studio (go figure...another artist needing to remind herself). So, I've adopted this as my new mantra and one that I am constantly reciting to myself...."I chose happy." Reminding myself to be grateful for everything I have and encourage positive thoughts...doing my best to overcome those "Debbie Downer" moments.

Also, I'm celebrating (what I think is) a significant birthday in a couple of days, making this new motto more and more useful. This most recent collage is about basking in the glory that is happiness and shedding the layers of "gunk" that weigh us down...like a good salt scrub in a hot shower...you gotta just let it go....schlep it off and bask in the illuminating glory of happy.

Singing Flowers on the Wall

One of my fondest memories is riding with my grandfather ("Papa") to and from school everyday. He had a 1965 TEAL Chevy truck which at the time I was a little embarrassed of because it was old and a little noisy. We would listen and sing along to the one 8-track he kept in the truck, "The Best of the Statler Brothers." So, this piece is inspired by those memories and dedicated to an extraordinary and wonderful man, my Papa.
P.S. I dream of cruising around town in a fully restored '65 chevy pickup (in teal or turquoise--surprise, surprise, right)...I'm on the lookout and plan to buy one before I turn 40!

Creatively Mobile

I am experimenting with mobile blogging. I just got an iPhone and I'm completely in love with it. So this is a test to see how well it works...fingers crossed! Oh, and if you want to get notices about new posts...just go to the "Baby let me follow you down" and become a Creative Mess "Follower"