Friday, April 16, 2010
Rituals. We all have them...some probably more profound than others. Every Tuesday and Friday when I pick him up from daycare, my son and I walk down the street to a cafe with a green door to purchase a "special juice". Each time he stands in front of the glass door seriously contemplating the choice. He opens the door and goes to the apple pear section,picks one up and right at the last minute puts it back and says "I don't like apple pear" (he's never tried it) "I like apple cranberry" (he's only tried this one). I think he likes the color. In the beginning, he would walk straight out of the shop..no need for an exchange of money here folks, it's just mine. Now, he plops the juice on the counter, folds his arms and asks for a straw in dutch. The ladies know him now...so does the old dutch man who sits in the corner and drinks wine by himself. Now that the weather is nice we jump on the bike to go home. The juice has to go in my bag for later but he doesn't trust me with the straw yet, that goes in his pocket.
Amsterdam is funny. It can be grey all day and at about 6-6:30 the sun makes an appearance and suddenly you feel like the whole day has been beautiful and you have to celebrate.
I decided to start a new ritual today. It's called "you sit on the front stoop and drink your apple cranberry juice and yell at bikers and boats....and i sit on the front stoop and drink rose." Catchy title?
I got some funny looks. I can't decide if it's because our liquids were the same color and they secretly thought I was saucing my kid up...or if the cold stares were culturally misinterpreted?
Either way sun + "juice" = good!
Posted by Riley at 3:37 PM
Thursday, April 15, 2010
This is blooming just outside my back window...
I have resisted cutting some branches and bringing them in...until today. Armed with my garden shears I jumped up over and over until I caught a branch (and until the neighboring construction workers started laughing at me), pulled it down and snipped a few rougue shoots. My son told me very sternly that I was hurting the tree and I looked him right in the face and lied. "This helps the tree grow" I said "I promise you the tree is not sad"...he didn't buy what i was selling, just shook his head and said "no...that's not how it works" and walked away.
these blooms will only last a day on my table and window sill, but oh they are magnificent...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
The air here is thick with the stuff of beautiful sunsets. When the sun turns in for the night and colors lay themselves across the sky I almost forget where the catch in my breathing originates..pollution or awe.
These images of yarn being dyed bring the myth of Arachnae to mind.
To be a weaver of sunsets....Sifting through light, selecting threads, weaving for eternity something so fragile, intricate and passing.