Blue Moon

Have a wonderful long weekend if you're in the States and Canada. Wherever you are, enjoy the Blue Moon this evening. See this site for beautiful photographs, illustrations, & the best writing for astronomy lovers (who may not know all that much - I don't.) Here are more night sky posts on Giulia Geranium.

I'll be back soon. Somehow. Comments still turned off but feel free to pop in to Twitter (join!) or Pinterest.

Susan/xo

(photograph by Beata Rydén)

Clair de Lune

There's a total eclipse of the solstice moon overnight. The last time this happened, it was 1638. Wow. I could make much of this but I'll spare one & all. This very pretty Isabel Marant boutique window in Paris by Fan & Gab. (To be fair, I saw it on this Dreaming in White Pinterest board. But just like FB, it is having some sort of mini-breakdown today.)

Mnemosyne/November, 1967

"A previously unseen work by Dante Gabriel Rossetti is to go on show at the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery next year." BBC

&

Dr. Zhivago was playing at the Paramount
Theater in St. Cloud. That afternoon,
we went into Russia,

and when we came out, the snow
was falling—the same snow
that fell in Moscow.

The sky had turned black velvet.
We'd been through the Revolution
and the frozen winters.--rest of November, 1967

If I seem overly-reliant on the BBC website lately--what can I say? Guilty. That it's about Mnemosyne (Memory) makes it even better. Here's a link to the Delaware Museum of Art's Pre-Raphaelite Collection where the Rossetti painting is currently on view. (It's in a private collection.) I would love to see the new exhibit in January titled The Poetry of Drawing. (Here's the Birmingham Pre-Raphaelite Collection link.)

The poem because no less than 4 people emailed to ask, did you hear/read that poem on Writer's Almanac? (It was a few days ago.)

That's not a photo of Mnemosyne. It appears to be Tim Walker's take on Ophelia. I like the pearlized gray folds in the gown. (I most certainly do not identify with Ophelia, so let's nip that one in the bud.)

(photograph via Vogue Italia)

Les bois

I had to put something else up. Too tired to find a poem (much less write one or write an essay/post) on solipsism (not the philosophical theory...the selfish bit). It's been a horrible time in our Silver Spring neighborhood (the Discovery Channel hostage situation).

A Rose Bath

Pure heaven (if I can't see the Northern Lights) is a rose bath. In a house with electricity. Wireless & cable. Mad Men on a big screen, here I come. (If I can remember the instructions for turning it on.) Thanks to friends-at-the-beach who entrusted their lovely house & garden (not to mention Hermione the Cat) to me. Julie the Cat is trying her very best to be a humble house guest. (I'm dubious but she is giving it a go.) I am rediscovering the joys of refrigeration. A L'Occitane rose gel bath in the whirly-thingy bathtub - most excellent. Must be careful not to pull "a Lucy" & have great fluffs of foam topping the tub. A bit of the gel goes a very long way (I just rediscovered, uh huh). That's it, it's Sunday but wanted to proclaim my excitement at a real (& mold-free) bathtub/room.

Update - I think I just found the very "headboard" I'm looking for, here on From London With Love (via The Clever Pup). Off to shop. Seriously.

[Photograph by Cig Harvey via A Cup of Jo]

A Planet Without Flowers

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.--Iris Murdoch, A Fairly Honourable Defeat

Not Murdoch's finest book, but she's so damned quotable. Very sorry to see secret-lover-for-thirty-years stories rising to the top in a quick Iris search. I thought cream rose to the top. Blech. (In March, I'm not linking to any.) Can no one keep their mouth shut anymore? Swine.

Photograph of Gemma Ward by Steven Meisel for Vogue 2006. It's via my crummy scanner (now deceased) but I see that it's in more than a few tumblrs, here. More photos from the Vogue 2006 editorial are in dustjacket attic.

This Bird Has Flown

These are the days when Birds come back—
A very few—a Bird or two—
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old—old sophistries of June—
A blue and gold mistake...Emily Dickinson.

[images via Holga {Paint with your and shoot from the heart}; close your eyes, open your mind tumblr; without melissa tumblr; olivewoodgift(dot)com]

The Unruly America(i)ne

Lovely photographs from Sidi Bou Said, Hammamet, Nabeul, & other Tunisian towns. Birdcages & iron beds & neroli. That was the plan. But my blood pressure must be spiking because there's a new crack in the ceiling above my desk & I'm running late. For Mediterranean loveliness, visit calm Canadian Diane's Things We Love 2. Barcelona is the starter on the menu; sounds good to me, The Unruly America(i)ne. I feel like a Nervous Lemon. Ahem.

Two classic shots of Sidi Bou Said; the window, [looking for the wiki link]; the street, here. Off to Nabeul & Hammamet tomorrow, I guess.

Bayou in Black & White

[Photograph by Rodney Smith, via SEBASTIAN]

Walking the Old City

In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls,

I walk from one epoch to another without a memory

to guide me...-by Mahmoud Darwish

[photograph via we heart it, unattributed from an unidentified tumblr acct. Let me know if it's yours; I'd love a dove hair ornament]

She Moved Through the Fair

The Celtic Cat & I raise a toast (a day early) to friends near & far. Here's a favorite song; also The Chieftains' rehearsal of The Foggy Dew video for Long Black Veil (also with O'Connor).

Once Upon a Time, a St. David's Day in Italy

My favorite St. David's Day (March 1) memory is a daffodil quest in southern Italy. I was visiting friends for a few weeks, near Naples. One of this delightful duo was shy about his southern accent & still-tentative English. My southern dialect--forget it; "regular Italian" - it kept slipping into French. Our Italian-speaking link was doing something important --foraging for dinner ingredients. Me? Of course, I was obsessed with flowers & on this weekend, daffodils. I forgot the Italian word, if I ever knew it. Finally after squeaking out 'spring, 'yellow,' & I don't remember what else in Italian, S. lit up & said, "trombone?" I, being an ass, said,"No, no. Trombone? What? No that's an instrument in inglese." Finally, slow me, oh. Daffodils. They are trumpet-shaped--ah.

The sight of an older man pretend-playing a horn instrument & a younger, somewhat exasperated English-speaking woman performing the universal hand-to-head circling motion amused a bunch of bored children with no immediate interests except a Saturday gelato. We made a little bow to the kids, & slunk away. After the forager returned, she explained what was what (after laughing a bit too much--ahem), & S. became obsessed with the idea that I should have trombone. I was embarrassed that I had not only called him crazy in a public market, but now I had given him a new mission. He's one of those lovely people around whom one should be careful to express any wish that he could possibly (& maybe not even possibly) fulfill.

Later that evening, as I fussed with the sitting room brazier, tossing in clementine peels to achieve the most fragrant scent, I looked up & there he was in the doorway, holding a gigantic bunch of the longest-stemmed daffodils I'd ever seen. Before or since. I don't know where or when he got them that day, but being an Italian he possessed a sense of the dramatic moment & thus waited for a post-dinner flourish.

Here are some lovely links to a celebration of St. David's Day weekend in Rome (yes, yes), the end of which involves daffodil distribution. Also, here is a link to a current National Museum of Wales exhibit: Italian Memories in Wales.

cariad & ciao

[photograph of Sophia Loren, I should look so good, via If It's Hip, It's Here; Scented Alley in Naples by golden puppy via flickr]

Moroccan Marguerite

Thinking of North Africa, trying to stay warm. I'll add to this later, just don't want to think of winter fog as it begins to snow. [check out only alice's flickr sets]

Blue Paris

For later project. By Johnny Santo Domingo, via A Cup of Jo (via )Abby. Phew.

Pear

Believing each simple thing passes from a perception that is less clear/

into one that is, eventually, more clear....Pear by Susan Stewart

[photograph by D Sharon Pruitt/Pink Sherbet Photography Free For All Creative Commons]

Blue Hour, Winter Berries

[photograph courtesy, again, of D Sharon Pruitt/Pink Sherbet Photography Free For All Creative Commons]

Week's End - Winter Lace

The house at Varykino has been transformed into a sublime white and icy landscape. [by Ken Danvers, still photographer for David Lean's Dr. Zhivago. via BFI.uk.org]

Wednesday, 30 Dec. update: I'm way under-the-weather. Off & on & unpredictable. Hence, more uninspired-than-usual images, etc. Trying to keep stuff current on the GG blog through New Year's Day. Also wondering how nervy I have to be to stretch (in my opinion) fair-use policy. Believe me, I see photographs & images that are cool &/or useful but...it seems, dare I say, wrong. Somehow. Does this keep anyone else awake or at least worried? I've asked this before...over & again on both blogs.

Week's End - Lazy Susan, Waiting*

Charge Bikes_Lazy Susan from Charge Bikes on Vimeo.

Friday Evening Update: wild & woolly snowstorm on its way. From the scene in the market (especially dairy & pet food aisles) it seemed people thought an invasion was imminent. Buying a gallon of milk is the last thing on your mind if that's the case. Of course, I was there too, so... Anyway, to satisfy my OCD weekly ending thingies, this shall serve as such until tomorrow sometime. Have a good Friday/Saturday.

I can't resist posting this advert/video seen on Cycle Chic from Copenhagen, one of my favorite blogs. I hated the words 'lazy' & 'Susan' together when I was younger. This, I don't mind. The photographs are called Waiting* & Frosty. A copy of Waiting* is on the wall by my desk. Expecting snow this weekend.

Fields of Gold

Cringing at typing that title but it's what I thought first, second, last. I do have news, though. Last evening I received a lovely necklace ordered from Tina Tarnoff in San Francisco. I was puzzled by the large envelope/package. Opened it...she sent me her gorgeous Sylvie Guillem, No. 3 papercut as a gift. With a sweet note. I'm rarely rendered speechless. Part of me feels guilty (of course) & I feel I should give it away. But I cannot. Am I selfish or what?

Here is Talented Tina's etsy jewellry shop (she also paints & God knows what else). I highly recommend her wonderful blog Thought Patterns. Tina is exhausted as she's setting up for a new exhibit...perhaps as I type this. I want to do right by her, the necklace, & her gift - so I will post on that for the week end.

Here in Washington, President Obama & family hit the switch on the National Christmas Tree this evening. A friend sent me a photo (she thought), but I couldn't find a link to click. Then she rang from the Metro...uh, she lost her DC-cool & forgot to attach the jpeg. Hey, Maria Caterina di Perugia, it's the thought that counts!

[lacy umbrella-parasol via we heart it]

Black Ruffles

Unwell...so not a swan song but a little break. ciao.

[monochrome photograph of black swan via animalphotos]