Saturday, July 28, 2012


The phrase “coming home” contains such powerful force in it… it encompasses so much it's almost impossible to describe the feeling. Yes, “feeling”, because I believe each and every word bestow a unique different feeling.

And thus, “coming home” is a comforting feeling; of safety and quiet joy within one’s heart.

"Coming home" are words overflowing with thoughts of cozy cottages, and sumptuous flowers and old roses and a walled cottage garden where delphiniums and Shasta daisies grow as tall as sunflowers. They bubble with lace and fluffy comfortable pillows and sweet pastel beds linens and roses from the garden and old shabby furniture.

They exude joyful feelings and are brim with nostalgia and lovely romantic bits and pieces...

...a soft, cottage-style home with a feminine feel. That, and much more, is what "coming home" means to me… and thus, I am glad to be back to all that… ;)

Coming to the garden was a magical endeavor all by itself. So much had happened here while I was gone, and in such short time… An unbelievably lushness surrounded me the minute I stepped outside. Everything shimmered in greens and yellows and pinks. A wild paradise all to myself!

I'm happy to be home, even when our central air-conditioning broke yesterday and temperatures around here are in the top 3 digits... augh! It feels like Florida! ;) We're sleeping under the stars tonight for sure.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Living in a fish tank

I had forgotten what it feels like; what type of scents linger in the afternoon breezes, or how the ground hisses at you... like a serpent under your feet: Those “sizzling" summer days in South Florida.
Years living in a place where low humidity and cooler evenings are the predominance make you do that—make you forget what humidity can do to your body, or what it does to your mind; particularly your mind.

And thus, I’ve been living in a gigantic fish tank for the last couple of weeks; swimming in perspiration so thick you start imagining strange things… A sizzling spell of weather swirled in one particular super hot afternoon. Humidity took over, tresses grew thicker than ever and frizzed beyond control. I could hardly moved... was my body growing a tail too? I was almost certain I saw gills on my neck and scales growing out of my skin. If it wasn't because at that precise moment I was awaken, I'm sure I would have turned into a mermaid... some scary thing, I tell ya! ;)
Well, if you happen to live in South Florida, then you know what I mean... and that's where I've been—Miami, to be exact; home to Mami and Papi (mom and dad) and my dear sister Lissette and nephews and aunts and uncles and rest of family. My heart have yearned for a return to the home of my youth for such a long time now that I have almost forgotten how long have I lived in my landlocked mountainous home... long enough to have grown apart from the sea people and their South Beach culture.
So I am the 'strange' one here... going to the beaches clad in the usual layers of voile skirts... unable to free the body in some skimpy swimming suit.. ;) I really can't.
I rather walk the beaches of South Florida collecting treasures...
Giving back to the sea that what belongs to the sea...
Feeling the cool waters tickling my toes... white sand between my toes, over the soles, up and down the sides.
It was fun drying our clothes outside... there is absolutely nothing better than the sweet smell of sun dried clothing fresh off the clothesline.
Surrounded by dear people, excellent food and Cuban coffee after each meal for half the price of a Starbuck's... and of course, finding a cool respite in Mami's walled garden, under the giant bougainvillea by the garden's gate... what a lovely and dear place this is to me...
Real magic swirls around; encompasses every inch of my soul... it catapults me in harmony and bliss. It's the magic of love and acceptance and the home of my youth; my parents' home and what it represents to me and my sister Lissette still today...

I am sad I have to leave, but I am already looking forward to the comfort of my own home and my magical garden. I miss my days spent there, in my little world; surrounded by my things in a land and climate still somewhat foreign to me after so many years, but at the end "home" to me...
Thank you, my friend, for listening and for being here with me. You're so special to me I cannot even begin to tell you. Sometimes, when I feel alone, or sad I think of you and this virtual home where I can always come to and say what I want, and feel so blessed. Blessed to have known you, people which I may never get to know in person; yet I so treasure in my heart... may you all be blessed and inspire by what you find here.


Friday, July 13, 2012

Delicious summer days

In every girls life; there's a boy she'll never forget and a summer where it all began - Anonymous.

Big fluffy orange clouds, day walks, evenings illuminated by fireflies and spending every day in a garden you hold so dear to your heart...

Butterflies and fairies have returned to the summer garden, setting imaginations off, to wander the land of dreams.

Feeling as free as a bird- nothing to do but catching bugs all day.

Lost in the land of giant hollyhocks...

Treasuring every bit of that child within; breathless, laughing in the sun. Believing in fairytales too...

Mysterious and lovely black hollyhocks... love them...

Summer's filled with breaking the rules, walking on air...

And ignoring all those new freckles and wrinkles, and of course, following your heart too. Oh and did you notice? I have followed my heart by going back to being a blonde again... yeah! Summer is for sunshine in your hair! ;) Summer is delicious... and who needs shoes on days like these? ;)

Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world. - Ada Louise Huxtable.

I am sure by now the warmth of these wonderful summer days must have reached your heart. So what are you waiting for? Get out of the house and embrace the bright sunlight until it lasts!

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Lechuzas in the magical garden...

Nature has been behaving in such a strange way this summer… temperatures are soaring up to 108 degrees and heat and dry air have whipped up a succession of fires this week that have painted our skies in ruby and deep purple colors. Evening light possesses the strangest phantasmagoric yellow glow and there are tiny creatures-like ashes fleetingly the early morning air.

It doesn't look real, but this was today at 7:00am

A ruby sun faintly shines through purple clouds… lovely.

Brush fires, wildfires in the wilderness... I know this is a terrible thing, but as long as it doesn't represent a danger to human or property, I must confess I find it truly divine... the smell of smoke lingering in the morning air, the ambience gloriously glowing in amber orangey hues; making everything ever so mysteriously wonderful looking.

OK, I’m not a fire fanatic, really. Just a romantic at heart and a fantasist who sees in every opportunity and unusual circumstance a Canvas where to paint her stories and dreams… and thus…

The mountains loomed in a distance behind thin curtains of smoke. I was hoping to catch glimpse of the peaks shimmering in the sunlight, but instead, some mysterious looking clouds closed in around me making everything seem suddenly darker and gloomier than already was. I thought I saw something... or someone. What it looks to me a very mysterious looking woman shrouded in the mist of the first light; amidst the bushes at the end of the garden.

She called out in an unusual terse voice—not as musical as the songs of thrushes and warblers, but certainly the strangulated screech of the Barn Owl; the classic hoot of the night birds…

I was not sure I had even seen her; or heard the call. It could have been anything, but I felt the pull of her vividly colored eyes behind the murky haze-like curtains carried by the early morning wind, and instantly knew…

“Alba?” I inquired. I knew it had to be Alba. I knew it, because I had memorized her distinctive scent… a scent far from any human scent you can imagine; intriguing and subtle yet alluring – a clean, exhilarating and utterly unique fragrance, an everlasting fragrance etched deep in the magical forest of Hollow Woods.

I had met Alba many moons ago one night while visiting Hollow Woods and knew she could fly great distances; even traverse time to another dimension if she wished it. She was my friend.

Maybe I should have been afraid? The superstitious villagers of Hollow Woods were convinced that Alba was really not an owl at all. They knew who she was and how she manifested herself. They believe Alba was a witch who snatched little children from their beds at night in the form of an owl…

Hu- huhuhu-hewww... she would taunt the villagers as she flew over their humble cottages and roofs made of tin and dry vegetation; such as straw and rushes.

Alba’s greatest impersonation was the night owl—so said the villagers; she was a flyer of the darkness who hunted the weak. They were terribly afraid of her.

I remembered all these things and wasn’t sure myself… I started to walk towards the dark at the end of the garden and shyly called again: “Are you there, Alba… is that you?”

Usually, the only tell-tale sign of a perched owl will be its vocalizations or its vividly eyes that face forward. But I couldn’t see a thing; or hear a thing.

I knew that the coloration of the owl’s plumage plays a key role in its ability to sit still and blend into the environment, making it nearly invisible to prey. Owls tend to mimic the colorations and sometimes even the texture patterns of their surroundings, and maybe... maybe Alba was watching from somewhere in the garden, camouflaged by the heavy fog? Was she really an owl?

The sounds of the early morning hovered over the garden’s floor as offerings to this strange meeting. “I am here and ready to receive your wisdom.” I said. And there she was as mysterious and lovely as ever and as pure as winter's first snow with feathers of white and beneath dark shadows. She blinked, then lifted her beautiful wings and took off. Circling me three times she came to rest on my shoulder.

It was the sweetest moment. And I'm still somewhat baffled by the lovely Alba... Is she really an owl? Or is she what the villagers of Hollow woods feared her to be? A witch. Some evil impersonator?

Someone once said that "evil is unspectacular and always human..." and thus, I choose to believe only in good, and goodness. There is no reason why good cannot triumph as often as evil, right?