Carnival Time

We visited good friends--we'd spent five years together in Japan--in The Netherlands on Sunday.  It happened to be the day of the year when cities and towns host their own "Carnaval" parades, which tend to be--in true Carnival fashion--wildly-creative, silly, and fun.  Merkelbeek's celebration didn't disappoint; the village parade came right down the street in front of our friends' house, so that was an unexpected treat for us.

The beer was flowing, but everyone behaved, at least temporarily.  I would say a good time was had by all, wouldn't you?

The Silver Pitcher

I've joined in Willow's first Magpie Tales creative writing prompt today.  Willow will be hosting these muse-feeding opportunities weekly, and each one will be based on one of her own photos.  Feel free to play along next time!  Here's the first photo; my creative interpretation follows.

She sat staring, mesmerized by drifting motes of dust, as the late-afternoon sun filtered in through the lace-curtained window.  When would he return?  She could guess--a month, perhaps, possibly two--but she never really knew, and this time was no different. He assured her repeatedly that his heart was hers, but uncertainty plagued her mind, as it always did when he left.  

Was it enough that today he'd warily handed her a prized antique, a "large token" of his affection, as he liked to call his gifts?  Usually he brought her these tokens from his travels, but this morning, he'd knocked at the door early in his pea coat and tweed hat to tell her he'd be leaving right away, and he'd like for her to have his grandmother's pitcher.

He'd stayed only a few minutes, not even removing his coat and hat, but taking a moment to place the pitcher in "just the right spot"on a shelf opposite her old farm table.  Since he'd kissed her goodbye and walked out the door into the chilly drizzle, she'd tried to eat, work on her sewing, and go about her other regular activities.  But she kept returning throughout the day, insulated by the adjacent window from the vast changes in the weather, to sit at the table and gaze at the pitcher.  Its etched design and gentle curves pleased her immensely, and there was inherent sentiment that touched her on some level.  

But the weathered pitcher also brought to mind the tarnish in her world: a long-time wearing away of hope for a normal, civilized life built around a steady relationship.  Clearly the pitcher had aged well, though, and as she sat it occurred to her that perhaps her heart might do the same, that a few spots of tarnish might even provide the character and freedom from certain expectations that could make a life quite extraordinary.

Fairytale Style: Deborah Turbeville and San Miguel

I have a soft spot in my heart for San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, after spending five blissful summer weeks there in 1997 with The Husband and The Girl, who had just turned two.  Our ostensible reason for being there was so The Husband could take a month-long Spanish class (where he first met our dear,  peripatetic friend Asya).  I mostly hung out with The Girl in our rented apartment until "school" was out each day, after which we would all walk the short distance downtown to el jardin, the heart of San Miguel.  We loved just sitting on park benches there, watching cavorting children, giggling teens, wandering mariachi bands, and balloon-sellers, or heading around the corner for some of the cheapest, tastiest, and most unique tacos we'd ever eaten.

I also took a two-day photography workshop in San Miguel--the best thing I've ever done for developing an eye for good settings, lighting, and subjects in my photography.  So when I linked from Poppytalk to this feature on Toast Travels (I love Toast!), it brought back memories in a way I can't quite explain.

We did a tour of homes in San Miguel that was unbelievable, yet I'm almost certain we didn't see Casa No Name, the home of acclaimed photographer and artist Deborah Turbeville.  Still, it seems familiar.  And the photography in these books is nothing short of spectacular.

Introducing A Small Village and a Small Dog

I figure it's about time I make the proper introductions.  I live in a German village that's attached to a larger German town.  When referring recently to this particular area as "the country," The Husband and I were gently corrected by German friends (you see, this is not the country--there are shops and restaurants here!  Oh.  Right.).

Since it was quite cold but almost sunny yesterday around noon, I decided to head out for a short walk around part of the village.  I took a few representative photos; I would have taken more except that I had to attend to this little guy, our family's new addition, who didn't really see the need to be still during photography shenanigans:

I know.  He couldn't be any cuter!

His name is Yoshi, and he's a Biewer Yorkshire Terrier.  He'd like you to know that his birthday is October 1, in case you were thinking of sending a gift.

Now, for some typical village scenery.

Leaving the village--is that the country?

Enthralling, yes?  Suspicious Kitty assures you that there will be more village photos to come...

Vintage Anthropologie: Beyond the Whims of Fashion

When I was shuffling through my living room magazine basket recently, I noticed that I had amassed a couple of years' worth of Anthropologie catalogs.  This was not by accident, really--I just love the styling in them and couldn't bear to throw them out, though I'd certainly donated many other catalogs and magazines to the recycling bin during that same period of time.

After flipping through a few, what I'd believed all along was confirmed:  almost everything offered by Anthro is timeless.  In the wake of this non-epiphany, I now present the first in a series of looks back at these catalogs, called Vintage Anthropologie: Beyond the Whims of Fashion.  Remember to click on the photos if you want to see them full-size.  Enjoy some of my favorites!

all photos from January 2008 catalog

Fairytale Style: Sally Scott

Leave it to a Japanese label to dream up this kind of simple but cozy but cool clothing.  Yes, Sally Scott "lives" in Japan and the site is in Japanese--and no, I can't read it, either.  But just have a look:

Thanks to Eddy and Edwina for the introduction...

Watch a few of the tiny videos from the 2009-2010 Autumn and Winter Collection to get an idea of what Sally Scott is about.  The model reminds me a lot of my daughter.

I'll be watching for the Spring and Summer Collection videos...

Fairytale Video: Vanessa Bruno's Le Bel Eté

found at Bakerby

As a pianist, former recreational dancer, and onetime White Sands-sledder, I just had to share this, in case you haven't seen it.  It's so whimsical, and the music by Yacht and Gonzales is inspired.