Basket of Possibilities, Faery villages and goat eyes

I just looked at an ampersand 

( @ ), 

which I usually do without thinking, a lot, because they are part of so many online addresses, and in doing so today I saw its shape for how it presents visually:


and I see maggots. I had almost forgotten about this fact I learned somewhere. In Hungarian, the ampersand is called ‘kukac,’ which translates to ‘little worm,’ or maggot. It’s hard to unlearn facts that I find intriguing or amusing. Like this:

Goats, horses and hippopotamuses have rectangular pupils. How did I never know this?


This shape enables them to see 280 degrees around their bodies, but it is not so easy for them to see much on the vertical axis. If I was a painter of horses like peer Michael Tolleson, I would know this; I suppose. The dozen times I rode horses in my younger years, I guess I never looked them in the eyes; at least not long enough to scrutinize their pupils. I have shared these old snaps before but here they are again:

 There are myriad ways to see and make sense of every single visual, every word, every nuance and situation. I think you don’t really become fully aware of this until you’re adulting. I see cookie-cutter follow-the-masses conformists every day and also I see people rebuild themselves from scratch on a daily basis. I am drawn to the latter.

It has probably been one of my life’s challenges/themes to try to see other people’s way of seeing because it often seems so opposite of my own way. My other themes are helper (pretty good at this), carer (really good at this), forgiveness (very good at this), assertiveness (trying)- and sometimes doormat (trying not to be). When drawing, it helps to try and become the very thing you are drawing. Einstein himself spent hours visualizing himself ON a comet and came up with his best theories this way. By imagining to be another thing, we get insights. But that is not always easy, especially when imagining you are “in someone else’s shoes” so to speak, feels very bad. I have learned that some folks try to preserve their identity by totally obscuring it and that seems counterproductive to me.

Is it any wonder I greet new people with “Wanna see my faery village?” I’m not ashamed of my enthusiastic demeanor, why should I be? Laugh if you like, but it fills my time. I suppose extroverts (of which I am not) refuel with interactions with people) and introverts like me (yay introverts) recharge with alone time. So here I go- sharing some of my faery stuff. When I use moss, transplanted from the shadow side of the house, I often transport ants to the project. That’s okay, I know it’s brimming with life, even if mostly unseen.

This is a work in progress. I try to avoid manmade items like plastic (especially plastic, and kits, etc.) but I do occasionally use resin items like gnome figures (why is it so damned hard to find a scale female gnome by the way), or I will use little houses found at thrift stores that I can repaint, and add my own wooden shingled roof to as well as a mosaiced path.


I don’t know what to put in the well…..


This is a splurge purchase but it has a natural element I like.

This is the male gnome, of which I have two. The other picture is a current project about environmental protection. You see here a collage in progress that almost looks like truffula trees but not quite yet.

A secret doorway. Shhh. These succulents are real and thriving. The tire that I fashioned into a gnome tire swing, Al found in the road and brought home to me.


This particular part of the village is from terra cotta pots which my grandson loved smashing. The idea is that the green terra cotta bits are steps, but I am not finished with this just yet.


I threw this in for comic relief. It’s very early satire. 18th century I believe, Chinese satire fart art. It depicts “making fun of westerners.”

The making of the steps. Learning as I go.


Basket of possibilities. A lovely sight. That’s what I see anyway.



Lest I forget to include the screensaver on my phone, the blobfish. Scientific name: Psychrolutes marcidus. Who named this curious creature that I feel such kinship with these days?


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