Simple Beauty....

on my early morning walk with my dogs.



photos by Helen Young

Afternoon Activity

Here's what I did this afternoon -



Flowers for the side altars for my church (Cathedral of Christ the King) for a Cardinal's Mass tomorrow.

Easter Flower Frenzy!

Here's what I've been up to since Thursday:













Happy Easter everyone!

Bringing the Outside In

Spring is coming, or so the weathermen tell us. Today in Atlanta the forecast calls for us to reach 69 degrees F! Thinking of Spring reminds me of one of our decorating recipes for success - bring the outside in. By that we mean, fresh flowers and plants help a room to come alive - literally. Having fresh flowers and plants in the home brings the life and the beauty of nature inside. Flowers need not be fancy or extravagant (although that is fun once in a while) - a simple arrangement or house plant will suffice. Some photos to inspire -









The flowers in this Amelia Handegan living room above are simple and elegant. See mantle flowers in the mirror? (Image courtesy of Southern Accents)

These orchids on Handegan's own mantle are simple and perfect


(Image via Southern Accents)

Enjoy this beautiful day!






Unless specified otherwise, images from Whitehaven

Flowers on Friday

It's a dreary, rainy day here in Atlanta - cold too! Most of the East Coast is socked in with some kind of weather. Flowers always brighten my day...so here's some flowers to give everyone a boost!









All flowers arranged and photographed by Helen Young

Getting snarky about "that" mall...

There is, on occasion, nothing quite like a damned good snark. So bear with me while I continue Friday’s saga… C’mon, at least it makes a change from guinea fowl!

To cite Baino… the Goddess Vanilla has been wielding the Hammer of Thor. She has, to quote Terry Pratchett’s Nac Mac Feegles been doing some o’ the pursin’ o’ the lips, foldin’ o’ the arms, not to mention some tappin’ o’ the feets… And she has been looking for The Explanation. (This might make more sense if you’ve read Pratchett’s wonderful Wintersmith.)

I have managed, rather in the way of pulling teeth, to extract an apology from the Marketing Manager and the Centre Manager of the Blue Route Mall. The Operations Manager, however, who was the first person I spoke to (having erroneously being told by staff in the manager’s office that he was the centre manager…), was having nothing to do with any such thing that remotely resembled an apology. In fact, I rather got the feeling that if he ever ran into an apology in a dark alley at night, he’d shoot it. Then ask questions. He was adamant that when someone committed a crime it was okay and necessary to chase them through the mall and too bad if shoppers were harmed along the way. Charming.
“You don’t know what it’s like on the ground,” he assured me.
No, I don’t, nor do I care, because that ain’t my problem.
“The woman was a known criminal,” he told me, trying to defend his actions.
And this is my problem, how?
“She’d used a fraudulent card in a store,” he said.
And I should worry about this? When I can’t breathe, or sleep for coughing.
“She was carrying crystal meth.” As if this was supposed to make the guard’s actions justifiable.
“The security guard’s life was endangered,” he announced.
Well, with all due respect and I’m very sorry for the security guard, but just how is this my concern? I’m presuming when he took the job the guard realised it was a high risk position. Or had he been told he’d be helping little old ladies with their shopping trolleys? I suspect not.
“None of this is acceptable,” I snapped, “and I expect an apology!”
“Well I won’t apologise,” he said in the manner of all small boys who’ve just broken granny’s favourite vase. I suspect there might have been some stampin’ o’ the feets at that point – from him, not me. “Our actions were entirely justifiable.”
Uhuh? “And just think how justifiable they would have been if the perp had sprayed bullets instead of pepper?”
“Well, we’ve had a case of security guards being help up at gunpoint in the mall before,” he replied.
Oh charming, I’m sure. And this is supposed to make me feel better?
“Anyway,” he finally said, “I don’t see any point continuing this conversation because you’re clearly not willing to accept anything I say.”
Right on there, buster.

I had another chat with the manager of the store where the incident took place – really, really nice guy. He got onto the centre management and I got a call from the Marketing Manager – who in the way of most marketing managers actually understood the concept of customer relationship management, especially when the customer mentioned she was a freelance journalist…. She apologized and promised to talk to the Centre Manager. A few minutes later someone barked at me down the phone line… on the defensive – and the attack – reminded me rather a lot of SOF.... Really not a bright place to start. But I recognized the type, so barked back three times, snarled twice and said Centre Manager backed down to something only marginally resembling a cranky bulldog – as opposed to a slavvering pit bull or an irate guinea fowl… (she said mixing her metaphors with gay abandon).

The odd thing was, when pressed on the matter of “security protocol” he acknowledged that perpetrators should be dealt with off the premises. Hmm, what makes you think that the left hand and the right hand have never really crossed palms… Still, he offered an apology, assured me that a full investigation was underway but pointed out that incidents such as these “are part of the nature of the country we live in”, by way of wiping his hands of the whole business.

See, and here’s the thing, so long as South Africans wander around saying, “Oh well, this is just the way it is, crime happens”, crime will continue to happen. It’s complacency and acceptance like this that really pisses me off. Crime becomes the modus operandi. And then it does become my problem. I may as well just wander around with “Rob me, shoot me,” tattoed in bright colours on my forehead! Or I suppose I could just mace anyone who gives me a funny look…

Anyway, the letter to the press is written, I now just have to decide if I will achieve anything constructive by sending it.

Right, now I’m going to cease tappin’ my feet, stop pursin’ my lips - just in case someone thinks I want a kiss - and I’m going to return Thor’s Hammer. Then I’m going to wander outside to count the guineas and take some photos of flowers. Being a goddess is just so tough, I’m not sure I can keep it up.





And here he is - the real SOF, hot-footing it around the pool, seeing someone off, as usual, cranky, as ever...

Ba-kaaaaaaak!

Bees in the pink

I thought we'd stick with the spring theme, even though after one day of Sister Spring being bright and gay, Old Man Winter fought back with a vengeance. Once more it's piddling with rain - and today's supposed to be National BBQ Day - or, as we call it here, "braai" (pronounced as in "spry"). It's chilly, the garden is sodden and there are an assortment of very damp critters pootling about the lawn. Yuck. Enough already. I need sunshine!

Still, that said, I took advantage of the sun on Monday and had a fine time snapping the wee beasties below.

Rainbow wings

Head down

Busy Bee

Flower Feasting

I do love bees, I think there's something quite magical about them. And bee-rescuing is a popular past-time in our house. They inevitably end up in the swimming pool, so it's out with the honey, lots of warm breath on very frail bee bodies (sort of mouth to mouth resuscitation...) and a bit of sunshine - and then it's such a joy when they revive and fly away.

The Massed Pink of the Indian Hawthorne

What I love about the mass flowering shrubs of spring is how they attract bees. If you stand next to them in the morning you have the pleasure of hearing the bees singing. Sigh, so good for the soul, that.

Bee in pink

Yep, much better focusing on nature than the nuttiness of markets, politics and similar such shenanigans. At least nature is real, whereas the rest strikes me as being an awful lot of hot air and all smoke and mirrors.

Everywhere

I met God today.
He told me he was from Burundi.
His face was dark and shiny.
He said he had no money, asked if I could give him a job.
He said they were going to evict him from his house if he couldn't pay his rent.
I said I had no job for him but I gave him some money and promised that if I heard of anyone who could offer work, I would come and find him.
As I drove away he smiled. His face lit up and so did mine and the heavens shone above us.



I hugged God today.
I touched the vastness of all we beheld.
He whispered love and peace to me, as I wrapped my arms around his girth.
As I gazed at him in wonder he scattered golden leaves in my hair.



I smelled God today.
She was fresh and pure and took me to ecstatic heights of chocolate, vanilla, peaches and roses.
My heart sang as I swam in the scent of love.




I cried with God today.
She told me she was from Zimbabwe.
Robert Mugabe had burned the market where she worked.
She has a six year daughter whom she'd left behind.
She came here to look for work and her husband ran off with another woman.
Now she has no place to live.
She looked at me with eyes filled with pain.
And I felt her heart crack and ache.

On Beauty and Balance

Given that yesterday's road rage event (see yesterday's post) has left a bad taste, I decided to follow up with something altogether nicer and brighter. Nothing like trying to find and keep the balance which is feeling decidedly wobbly at present.

These are some recent photos taken by way of trying to find a creative solution (following on hellish medical expenses last month) to some Christmas gifts!

Politics? Nah, let's stick to beauty.

Which way up, you decide.

Not much to say today - actually, that's not true. I had written a post about the upcoming African National Congress (ANC) election for a new president of the ruling party. But D decided what I'd said was far too contentious and I was likely to get sued. I did say that sometimes I liked to live on the edge. He said he didn't think this particular edge was a good place to be living. So... what I can tell you is that we live in interesting times as the current president of both the country and the ANC, Thabo Mbeki, goes head to head with his former deputy president, Jacob Zuma. One is a manager and a pragmatist with a strong Thatcherite bent and some very odd views on AIDs/HIV. The other's is the people's man, who's recent past has been dogged by charges of corruption and allegations of the rape (unprotected) of an HIV-positive woman.

"Politics, n. Strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles."
Ambrose Bierce - The Devil's Dictionary

"In politics, absurdity is not a handicap."
Napoleon Bonaparte

Let it not be said that life is ever dull. But let it also be said that while comrades in the ANC may be at each other's throats and stakes may be high, beauty nonetheless abounds in all sorts of other places.

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not"
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Simply beautiful.

"Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all."
W. Somerset Maugham

On Beauty

Flowers from my garden and other peoples' words today. Not really up to much else, I'm afraid.

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science."

Albert Einstein

"You cannot perceive beauty but with a serene mind."
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)