Everything a pictures says

It’s just as well it should speak for itself I suppose for I haven’t the words for beautiful and all its synonyms somehow seems wanting.

Frederick Childe Hassam's Sonata

I met a fortune-teller on the train. She sat next to me and asked if she could look at my hand. I smiled politely and removed my glove without word and handed it to her. My callused gardener’s hand was a tad self-conscious being cradled there in her warm elegant palm. The fortune-teller did not seem to mind as she studied the lines of my hand, her brows knitted together in something like deep consideration then she said, “Great fortune, true love and happiness will find you in a very short time.” I thanked her and dug around in the pocket of my coat until I found the five that was meant for my coffee and gave it to her. She smile her gratitude, rose and wished me well.

A lovely week to you all,

Simone

A bit of eden

Where on earth but in the heart of an artist.



Three Beeches by Paul Ranson

You are for me

My capacity for sentimentality is boundless on Sundays, friend.
Ah, but Monday I wilt for want of you.
I can’t bear the hours from here to there and time marks in me an anxiety similar to bereavement.
And in those hours my Sunday, our Eden, is no more than my fear for your leaving.

My love my care,

Simone

Falling in Love Martin Johnson Heade again

Follow this link to his catalogue on museum syndicate.

Martin Johnson Heade's A Spray of Apple Blossoms

suffocated

I’m running now to catch my wicked words carelessly embedded as shrapnel in your flesh.

Still, you are not without fault but then you are by nature charity where I’m devil.

Devil, screaming her distaste until it echoes.

Together we are passion without restraint.

Feeling all and experiencing none and your love so unlike blissful desire though I think it rapture.

We are wrapped in it until we burn.

All my love,

Simone

The Regent’s Mother

The Queen Consort by studio of Allan Ramsay

Charlotte Sophia of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (19 May 1744 – 17 November 1818), wife of poor mad king George and mother to our spoilt fat Regent was consider by most her subjects a dull unattractive woman but to her credit she had been a dutiful queen in all the ways that mattered. She was a faithful wife and devoted mother with charm enough to rouse in me affection. I love that she was an advocate for the education of women and that she saw to it that her daughters were educated. She played the pianoforte and was a music enthusiast who vigorously supported the arts.

She had without fanfare founded orphanages, a hospital for expectant mothers and given from her own personal fortune moneys to the Regent in support of his Pavilion. I adore her near selfless carriage and love that she was competent enough botanist to contribute significantly to the expansion of Kew gardens.

I know there are those who would argue that she was an overly affectionate mother who didn’t instil in the rotten Regent and his siblings her sense of duty or even those who would call here pious hypocrite for holding close both faith in God and opiate. To them I would say, her life was her example to her children, she saw to it that they were all educated and there was no doubt she offered each her unconditional support so in that she was above reproach. As for the rest it makes her human.

My love my care,

Simone

So much for a proper post

Oh, but my friends do tax me...

I have but to spend an hour with them to work myself in such a state I’m barely tolerable by other civilized human beings. Eli that toad and ringleader of the band of hooligans I call my dearest friends lured me yesterday for lunch only to insight in me rage so profound I was contentious with all unfortunate enough to cross my path in the hours following.

A Reading by Emile Verhaeren by Théo Van Rysselberghe

This time the quarrel was about their combined belief that the modern medium “the internet” more specifically youtube is a Petri dish for talentless hacks attempting to peddle their wares in hopes of finding fame and fortune. Try as I may to inspire in them reason they would have none of it.

‘The medium is as the individual,’ I urged, ‘Each with an unlimited capacity for fame or infamy.’

‘Fame and infamy is the same thing in our modern culture,’ was their argument and soon we were quarrelling about that rather than the medium. Then the subject got move to morality and the responsibility of the public figures to carry themselves with a degree of grace and on and on it went until I was late getting back to work with nothing close to a resolve to that or the original subject of conversation for that matter.

A sort of lovely afternoon so here is to friends that engage, infuriate and delight.

All my love,

Simone

Reunited at long last

How have you been my dears? I've missed you all terribly and now with my computer is safely home there is so much I must do. One takes for granted all that one gets gone with a few clicks. I haven't set forth a proper post in weeks and hope to get one done by week's end but for now it is a quick hello with promises to return with something more substantial.

A Gift by Daniel Gerhartz

I thank you all for your continued support and kind words while my computer was away.

My love my care,

Simone

Still without my beloved computer

But I'm to have my friend Bunny's till the morrow. She is truly a brilliant friend, my Bunny and I'm grateful to her for this kindness. Here now the art of some poor forgotten artist.

It is so very sad to be lost to time but at least the art survived.

My love my care,

Simone

Golden Decorated Crown artist unknown