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Bittersweet Summertime

farmersmarketBaseball season and football season start the official overlap tomorrow at our house. That means autumn is on the way.

The seasons are marked at our house according to what kind of footwear the kiddo needs; football cleats, baseball spikes, curling sliders, court shoes, water shoes…you name it, we’ve got it.

We are at the front end of what I refer to as deep summer.

I am ready to start canning tomatoes, salsa, chili sauce, and pickling beets. I wedge my domestic chores in between practices, playoffs and football camp. Oh yes, and my fuller-than-full-time-gig as a professional, working, single mom.

This is a bittersweet time of year. The sun is setting earlier, and there’s a crisp edge to damp air each evening when I sit out on my little patio before bedtime.

Although I love the summer sunshine,the tail end of the season is more precious because we can feel it slipping away.

I capture the essence of August in the fresh produce put up for another cold, icy winter, and enjoying the sunshine into the autumn.

As sweet as summertime is, fall has always been the season of my heart.

I give you another list;

 ~Reasons that the end of Summer & Cool Fall days are the Best Time of the Year~

1) Cool nights that call for sweaters and curling in up with your true-love under a blanket, watching for falling stars.

2) Canning and preserving all the delicious fruits of your summer time gardening-labours.

3) Pumpkin spice lattes. Pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving turkey.

4) Football season, and cheering on your local team.

5) Fuzzy socks

6) Long drives along winding roads to buy your produce from small farmer’s markets.

7) Winery tours during the grape harvest.

8) Long walks, holding hands and kisses on cold lips and cold noses.

9)  Delicious, hearty stews by candlelight with red wine and hoards of good company.

10) The World Series.

~Wishing you sunny days and a satisfying slide into autumn.~

 

 

 

 

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Confessions of a Gallery Junkie

Musee Rodin - Adam
Musee Rodin – Adam (Photo credit: John Kroll)

You all know by now that I adore my time spent at the local art gallery.

I have been blessed by the art gods, or pan-sexual-life-affirming gods (whomever inspires you my darlings), to live near a world-class gallery.

I spend many a Sunday afternoon sipping wine in the  member’s lounge, chatting to fellow artists, wanna-be artists, or perhaps just myself, Moleskine and smooth writing pen in hand.

Some days I write pages, and other days the page holds out its fabulously, gnarled hand and won’t let me write a damn thing.

Most of all, beyond my nine-to-five life, the gallery feeds the flame of my creativity.

The art feeds my imagination, and what, pray tell,  my sweet, tender ,figs, would an artist be without imagination?

My top ten fantasies inspired by the AGO

1) I finally find that flowing scarf that never snags, flops into my soup, or makes my voluptuous ass look big. I also find the perfect sexy boot that doesn’t make me sound like a Clydesdale clopping across the sacred silence of gallery space.

2) I am bent over the knee of Rodin’s Adam, being shagged mercilessly by a very determined lover. He must be virile and skilled enough to finish the entire job before we get tossed out of my Eden of art forever. Preferably he speaks no English. Better yet, he doesn’t speak at all.

3) All of the books that whet my insatiable appetite for the exchange of ideas are priced reasonably, and I meet a man across the crowded, over-priced gift shop who is as hungry for intellectually stimulating intimacy as I am. (Hopefully this one speaks English, but with a sexy Irish brogue, or French yum-yum-accent).

I’m afraid that sums it up. I know lovey, I know, I did say there were ten fantasies, but I can’t share the rest with you. I’m saving them for someone special.

The gallery inspires me to creative, lustful, philosophy. It’s as simple as that. The other seven fantasies are for that yummy man, whom I meet as he sizes up my books and I size up his, er, um….anyway, our, eyes lock across the crowded bookstore/coffee shop/gallery/coat check/gate/pub/studio, and I know he’s the lucky one.