Flirtation in Liquid Form

The swirling mists, they’re fluid gifts.
Whatever mood you were breathing in before, you’ve sent it packing out the door.
The roar, the roar. It’s causing your bursting heart to soar.
The liveliness of the pulsating air, there’s just nothing to compare.
Negative ionizations spark those wonderful emanations.
Breathing in the positive vibe….We open our arms as if to describe:

Pure bliss………….from Nature’s kiss.

Trance Dance. These little sprites appeared and fell into a spell of euphoria

Absolutely lovely. On the way to Snoqualmie Pass. The river is alongside you the entire trail, with green hues of every variety and old trees with personality that shadow your soft steps.

As the light eases and softens, romance finds an easy way to open and blossom. A couple enters this resplendent cathedral, sets off their engagement pics midst nature so regal.

The natural world brings us into a timeless world full of grace

Walking along and came upon this divine Troll.
He seemed delighted to welcome visitors as the burbling sound of the happy river behind me sang a merry melody, a sweet soliloquy.

Evening walk to the falls and returning after 8 pm through the woods as the light swept thru the trees like long sensuous fingers of love, here muted and melted into air.

Photos shot at Franklin Falls. Walking into the evening hours as the days grow long. Sunset close to 9PM on the last day of May

Mermaid Magic

 

A look back at my time during the late ‘70s-early 80’s time in North Carolina.

I’d like to personally thank Stephanie Trepanier for her lovely artwork. The woman is talented. I’ll introduce our artist to you with this photo:

(as always, click on the pics to make them larger)

 

The hills of North Carolina are easy on the senses and sometimes stunning to the eyes, even more so when the hills have a lake running through them. Camp Mondamin was set in such a spot, just a short piece from the little town of Tuxedo. The skies were Carolina Blue and crystal clear throughout the summertime and the livin’ was easy for me to work as a camp counselor.

 

My mind was far from work on this particular day. Lake Summit was gorgeous, it was warm in the water and relaxing in the sun. I’d agreed to meet up with a trio of female counselors from the girl’s side camp across the water. Somehow we’d been able to create a little rendezvous spot in the woods that was semi private.  At night, a small fire would give a lift to energies and an urgency to move.  The girls were already there when I arrived.  The late light of the day filled the trees and air like a little magical illuminated tapestry that hung in the branches and spoke to you in little vibrating pulses of strong orange and red hues. I love the late light for photography. Every thing it touches gets stronger and bolder as the day gets older.

 

Dancing is so easy when you are breathing mountain air and the three young women had a languid sense of their bodies. Their movements flowed like liquid silk and laughter bubbled up into the valley atmosphere.

.

The girls were twirling and swirling as carefree as could be. A blonde (Susan), a redhead (Nancy), and a brunette named Rachel. We’d spent many a time here in the late afternoons and gotten to know each other pretty well.  However, I was pretty surprised to hear the following from Rachel:

“Susan and Nancy have decided I should be your mermaid for the night”  “Come and swim out to the floats in the middle of the lake……..I’ll be waiting”

 

I breathed into that statement.  Closed my eyes and felt Rachel dancing before me.

The next thing I knew I’d been transported into the dark nite and swimming strongly for our date on the little platform.

What a night sky!

And what a wonderful sense to be cruising effortlessly in the wet environment. I sensed a figure diving playfully like a lil’ dolphin alongside. It was Rachel! And she’d actually gotten the lower half of her body slipped into some approximation of a tail.  Wow, she was strong, just powering thru like an undulating fish. Fun just took on a whole new dimension.

Treading water underneath the moon light, she motioned a white flower towards  me.  “I’m sure you know just the right way to open my petals on a night like this”, she said.

 

Emerging onto the floats, her wet skin glistened in the starry night. She took a breath and looked up into my eyes.  All I saw was the whole of the universe behind me reflected in her gaze. It was like you could just fall headlong into the light inside her head.

A tentative kiss….. relaxed body language…. and intertwined limbs touched off sparks of electricity that played across our lips like shooting stars.

We laid together and took in the sky between the hills while our little floating palace gave some rhythm to our sleepiness. You could hear the ancient hills sing a song it was so relaxing.  The night was heavenly and simply divine. There would be days ahead, though, that would seem a lot like hell.

 

 

 

Snakes On Your Shoulder

Let me introduce Jaxter. He’s a large snake that lives right in my neighborhood. This is my friend, Chelsea McKenzie, and her 6 yr old boa.  She is enamored of all animals and has a special rapport with them. I’ve enjoyed knowing about her stories that revolve around having a snake in the house.  Her cat seems to be addicted to going up to the glass of his cage and hanging out late into the night. This is often followed by thumping noises as the snake strikes the glass aiming at her feline.  Curiosity and cats…. go figure. Here is his jungle lair: (And, as usual, clicking the pics will enlarge them.)

Fun stuff and of course, I relate completely to handling the slinky large sidewinder.  On some occasions, she lets him slide through the grass in her yard and he seems most happy.

By the way, if you go to visit her house, this is the welcoming committee peering out through the window to greet you~!

In my 20’s, I thoroughly enjoyed the connection to the heavy bodied constrictors I took with me out into the school systems . My travels out into Greater Houston had a sense of adventurousness about them every day. Entering a classroom or auditorium with the menagerie was like bringing the circus to the school (literally). Introducing myself was a breeze and the room was full of excitement as the children got an eyeful of all of us as we spread out before them. I started the lecture off with Rosie: the 6 foot long boa constrictor donated by a local strip act (so she was used to be handled). Just laid the snake over my shoulders and everyone shut up. Best teaching prop EVER! Loved the job. So fun. I carried Rosie (the snake) in a burlap bag and we were at ease with each other. When she would have enough of being handled by grade schoolers, I’d feel her tense a bit in her belly and slide her back into the sack. Wonderful snake. And superb help from my Junior League women escorts (doctor’s and lawyer’s wives, etc. who volunteered to help me on my trips.) I’ve always enjoyed the company of good looking women. They were as hot to my eyes as a Houston summer was to the body.

Heaven.

I guess playing with snakes has appealed to some of my relatives.  My aunt, JoAnn, had her hands full with this one.  Heh…. it looks like her left hand can’t figure out whether to advance to touch it or head for the next county. Snakes… must run in the family.

I enjoyed all of my experiences with snakes but I also had a healthy respect for them. You just don’t get aggressive with snakes (or any animal, for that matter.) Some beligerent yahoo staffer at the zoo was being a jerk and was rough with the reptiles. Needless to say,  a boa bit him on the hand. Really bad visuals for that one. Rumor has it that they have fierce fangs.  The head of the zoo had been bitten by so many poisonous snakes over his career that the docs told him if he got one more bite, he’d be dead. I figured my job was actually a godsend compared to some of the duties of the keepers at the Zoo. I didn’t know it at the time, but there were changes in the wind that would take me far from this animal paradise.  There would also be moments coming where I’d long for animal behavior as compared to some “human” shenanigans and incivility.

I’ll just leave this last pic as a reminder of previous companions that graced my shoulder.  Thanks for the pics, Chelsea!

Her cover pic seems completely appropriate here and encompasses the deep affection I feel for all living things:

 

 

 

Playing with the Pachyderms

 I’m enjoying matching some artwork with some of my stories.  Credits for the above go to Stephanie Trepanier for her lively depiction of elephant energy. (Thank you, Steph!)

I’ll take this story back to 1970 Texas again. I have to admit that the job with the Houston Children’s Zoo was one of the most fun and playful work set ups I’ve ever encountered. That episode of slippery driving with a full load of animals in the vehicle  also reminded me to not lose your cool just because the world starts spinning around you. My piano teacher, Mary Heim, always said don’t be distracted even if a whole herd of elephants comes stampeding thru the room. In this case, it was baby elephant butt bouncing off the walls of the vehicle. He was doing a mini-version of stampede city and loading and unloading the grip on the tires in perfect synchronicity to my deftness (sort of) at the helm. I wondered if he was going to somehow get his trunk thru the cage and grab onto the steering wheel~!.
He always did manage to play some tricks with his trunk by snaking up someone’s pants or skirt and on at least one occasion took the toupee right off the principal’s head and started doing a dance with it coming on and off the lil’ tusker’s head and then back onto the principal, then onto my head, then onto the best looking Junior Leaguer’s face to give her a beard. Needless to say, I wasn’t the only smart ass on this circus ride.

Talk of baby elephants reminds me of this shot. Photo of one year birthday for baby Ludwig (Munich Zoo). Happy times. And reminds me of the enjoyable times back then.

(click to enlarge)

There is something about a baby elephant’s face that make you think they are laughing at you. (Particularly if you are behaving like an idiot). And there were plenty of those idiotic moments. Early on, before I realized what a clown the big baby was, I was playing it pretty straight and soberfaced. Standing by a horse trough at one elementary school, I’d just concluded my opening statements with this: “And here is one of our more well behaved examples at the Children’s Zoo” Several of the kids were acting out the part of an elephant off to the side and being really goofy. When they proceeded to raise their voices in a crescendo of Monkey sounds….hooo hooo hoo…. with monkey squeals and the like, “Winky” (my name for the lil’ pachyderm) proceeded to upload a whole charge of H20 out of the horse trough using his trunk. Swinging around, he unloaded with the accuracy of a fire hose and took out the whole first row. It seemed from that point onward, his smiling laugh face got even broader.
For those of you who have never been around such big energy that is so wonderfully young, here is a video of a recent addition to the Houston Zoo. “Baylor” at 2 weeks of age is having a ball. For those of you who are parents, you may see some similarities in humans dealing with water for the first time. And it looks like he’s a little party animal.
I like how the mom encourages where to go for more playtime with her big foot. Click the link to play.

Baby Baylor in the baby pool!

This next video was almost a year later. 2011. Baylor was born at 348 pounds. Now he’s up to 1100 in this pic with his lil’ sister, Tupelo at 600 pounds. This is current footage, of course, but very similar to what was going on when I was there.
“The small, inflatable pools do not last longer than 5 minutes without getting popped. The babies now get a family size pool which is 120 inches in length and holds both calves. It is a lot more durable. This size pool lasts for about 5 uses before it has to be replaced. Playing in the pool is a fun enrichment activity for the babies and the pool is given to them when the weather allows.

(click to enlarge photos)

Click the link to play video

Baylor and Tupelo in the Pool

Life in Texas back then was fun, energizing and carefree.  However there were some storm clouds on the horizon and big changes would eventually  overshadow the playfulness of frolicking youngsters.

I’ll close this by fading to black and white with the fading light.

Artwork credits:  Stephanie Trepanier.

La Casa Grande

The Big House. I grew up in a very large house overlooking the Mississippi River. 14 rooms with 12 foot high ceilings. (A room for every possible use). Old fireplaces that dated all the way back to the Civil War. Set on an acre of land with terraces on all four corners. Such an interesting place to grow up in as a kid. Lots of history in that place.

History indeed. So much so that it was declared one of Missouri’s Historical Places. This shot was taken in April a couple of years ago.

(Photo Credits to Mary Ann Kellerman. She and her husband bought the house  over 40 years ago and have done a wonderful job of preserving it)

I just absolutely loved the springtime and the new buds coming out in all the trees. Place was surrounded in trees.

It actually has taken this many years to have some decent pics of the place. It’s funny to see it without the wrought iron fence that ringed the sides and front of it. In order to mow those terraces it required my brother, Ray, or my dad with a rope up top and running the tethered mower along the hillsides. Place was ginormous. And a kid’s playground.

If you were to have stood in front of the house on a warm summer’s eve back in the 60’s, you’d have experienced gentle upslope breezes (due to the hill sides in all four directions) and the heady aromas of honeysuckle, perhaps lilacs and lavender, and the gentle sun rays basking the front porch. This shot is from the Springtime, but I think you get the idea. Surrounded by nature on all sides.

By the way, this particular shot doesn’t look like much of a slope, but we had SUCH a fun time when it snowed. Sledding and sliding down the drive (especially when Dad couldn’t get the car up into the garage and had to leave it at Lorimier School parking lot.) Plus it was super safe as we weren’t flying out into traffic. (Just a reminder that you can enlarge the photos by double clicking on them)

The snow brought a majesty to the trees, the terraced grounds and the look out the windows became magical. No sounds, no neighbors. High above the rest of the world.  Pure bliss.

This was our first winter in 1958 and we were gloriously snowed in.

Land of the tall windows. I think that was one of the most endearing aspects of the whole structure. The light that would come thru and flood the rooms was unlike anything else you’ll find in a home unless you are really striving for the floor to ceiling effect. Go ahead and look carefully at that photograph. Those are TALL glass openings. House was outsized and supersized in a super elegant way. Everything about it spoke of soaring heights and elevated moods. Surrounded by lofty branches of trees beckoning up into the sky. On top of a hill.

King of the hill.  With a budget fit for a king.

Whoops. So, guess what? My dad wasn’t a king. Just a small town lawyer. As hardnosed and practical as a Lutheran Republican pramatist can be, he was an incurable romantic.
He was drawn to it instantly and I’m glad he figured out how to make it work. (Somehow I’m remembering  that he bought it for 60K back in the 50’s)

So when this house stole his heart, the maintainance reality pretty much stole his bank account. Or at least created some drag on it. So eventually it was simply over the top and beyond human understanding as to how to even manage the place.

Let’s just put it this way. It was a good run, Tons o’ fun. and….. That time was good and done.

And yet as the years would hold, there were still some interesting tales that would be told.

Backyard Bird Bonanza

Bird Banter in the Morning

I’ve always been intrigued by the bird world and the ability to fly. I used to dream of just leaping off the second floor porch of the Big House in Southeast Missouri and soaring high above the tree tops. My name, Vogel, translates to bird in German and it’s no surprise to me that I love having birds surround my house at this age. My backyard has a couple of hot tubs and the ravine behind them brings the treetops right up to my level when I’m sitting in the water during the early morning hours.  The branches and limbs are a speedway for the squirrels and singing perches for all manner of winged creatures. The flyway up from Puget Sound brings herons, gulls, geese, crows, robins, chickadees, humming birds and occasionally a Cooper’s Hawk hangs out just 10 feet away at my eye level for a real treat.

My work with taking birds out into the Houston School System was energized and pretty noisy. The birds were good for a certain period of time around the kids and then you could just tell that they were going to act up and possibly bite some youngster, so my Junior League helpers would whisk them away for a time out. The trips out and back in the van always had a full orchestra of bird songs and squawky cockatoo craziness trying to drown out everything within earshot.

One of my girlfriends back a number of years was heavily into raptor rescue and loved the unique language that birds have amongst themselves. She opened my eyes to a whole new world of avian wonders. We spent quite a bit of time in Eastern Washington watching the Peregrin falcons in their magnificent dives and the Osprey in Walla Walla fish in the rivers. A bonus was a nest of baby owls at eye level viewed easily from the road shoulder. She had a wonderful blue and gold Macaw and a tiny parakeet.  I’ll advise anyone that is considering having a large bird (and cage) in the house that it’s a lot of work keeping up with them. Think twice about whether that is a job you want to take on. If you want peace and quiet, a bird is not where I would start with a pet.

Recently I was reminded of the bird rescue world when a neighborhood friend related this tale to me. She works for the Longshoreman’s Union on Seattle’s harbor and managed to help this feathered soul to a better place.   Her story below:

(you can enlarge the pictures by clicking them and then clicking again for even larger)

Barn Owl at Work

A freaking awesome and powerful experience!
Found a barn owl trapped in the center break room at Terminal 18 the other morning.
It was flying back and forth, into the windows on either side, trying to escape…for who knows how long, possibly days.
I managed to capture him and wrap him up in my hoodie, he wrestled a little bit, but was pretty tired. His dry tongue was hanging out to the side and he wasn’t closing his beak from dehydration.
Managed to dip his mouth into some water and held him, didn’t take long until his body relaxed and he fell asleep with exhaustion.
Held him until the superintendents brought a box and made me give it up, someone came and took him to PAWS

Such sweet pictures.  Thanks, Chelsea, for sharing your story~!

Junior League Loveliness

In the morning, I found Kim still wrapped sleepily around the little baby camel’s neck. I’d have loved to stay and run my fingers through her hair, but I needed to get ready for my daily trip out to visit the school classes with the animals.

Life was pretty sweet for a 22 year old kid traveling the freeways of Houston with a van load of animals and some great looking Junior League women to help me with the presentations. We had furry little creatures that loved to snuggle in your arms, hyperactive birds, slinky Rosie (the boa constrictor) and a baby elephant before he got too wide to get in the van. It was a fun job from start to finish. Some of the most endearing moments were showing up to a group of blind children. They had no preconceptions about whether you were supposed to be fearful or aggressive to animals (seemed to be an attitude passed down from some Texas parents and something I tried to counter in my talks). The blind child would just take the little fur ball to their heart and hug it and love the moment.

Every day brought a new exploration out into the classrooms that I greeted with my entourage. No GPS and a ton of traffic.

Houston sprawl. I drove it all.

I’ll say one thing about working with the Junior League women. Absolutely nothing fazed them. If the birds started getting agitated and borderline ready to bite someone, they would be cool as cucumbers as they got between the small fry crowd and the bird and then whisk them into a cage to settle down (or not). If the furry weasels turned into little fluff bundles from hell, the women just handled it with no muss, no fuss. I can’t say they were enamored with the snakes but they didn’t mind making the best of it and let the small ones wind around their arm or place them over a willing child’s shoulders and neck.

At any rate these ladies were true Southern Belles and quick to shoulder any task that was asked of them. And they handled it all with a lot of grace. Those of you who have known Southern Hospitality and social poise and elegance know what I’m talking about here. And they really looked fantastic. All dressed up and just a delight to be around. This was an era of skirts, high heels, the whole 9 yards. I liked it. Here is a great example of the Junior League look of the time.

So driving had it’s challenges when we moved out towards our student destinations.  On a particularly hair raising day, there I was rounding one of Houston Freeway’s cloverleafs right after a fuel oil truck had overturned and dropped a ginormous oil slick onto the pavement. The tires touched the greasy stuff and we got a little unbalanced. Sliding a little right, my sleepy menagerie stirred out of their slumbers. Counter correcting in the best manner possible settled things down but the grease got the upper hand. Sliding a bit left, the birds let out an alarming squawk. We slid to the right again. The ferrets covered their eyes with their paws (hey, I gotta have some artistic license here)
One more slippage to the left and the baby elephant trumpeted a blaring blast in my ear. The Junior Leaguers just acted like they were a flight crew and prepared for impact. I’d loved to have seen the wiggles our 4 wheels left as it did a little dance.

It’s amazing how much rear weight bias results when you have some Pachyderm Poundage stuffed in between the hind end wheel wells. So we got tail happy… in a hurry. Oh, it was an exciting time but I finally got it straightened out. Fortunately, we’d hit absolutely nothing.

That day, the animals oscillated back and forth in their behavior between hyperactive and looking like they wanted to hide and tell me: “stop bothering me”. That little piece of roadwork got them a little perturbed.

I looked over at the women seated across from me and they looked at me like we’d just dodged a bullet and escaped with our lives intact.  I took a deep breath, smiled and turned the radio up just in time for Simon and Garfunkle to launch into:

“At the Zoo”

Angel in the Air

I don’t know why I was surprised that the 17 year old looked so great during the reception. After all, I was the one that had painted the black “dress” on her earlier that afternoon.  But the way she pulled the look off and the accessories that she donned, brought an air of elegance and sophistication that I hadn’t considered when we were doing the body painting.

The house I was living in was previously an art gallery in the Montrose district of Houston. The walls were covered in burlap and had that sense of having been an exhibition hall in earlier years. We were a diverse group of “counter  culture” dropouts that somehow kept our bearings in the midst of a social sea change that involve sex, drugs and rock and roll.  My close friend, John Biroti was attending Rice University as an engineer but had connections in Mexico that would deliver bales of marijuana to our house.  Half black and half Cherokee, John was often pulled over by the Houston police for various “non compliance” issues surrounding his little VW bug. He emerged from these encounters just fine and seemed to be immune from getting busted around the dope that flowed into and out of the house.

We’d often got into mescaline and wound up taking our hands and fingertips to run all over the burlap walls.  I think it was my first experience at really “feeling” with my hands the little nuances of the bumps and valleys of that topography, as though it were Braille messages telegraphing a sense of connection to my “massage brain”.

At any rate, I brought the 17 year old (Kate was her name) into the house for the body painting, and we were under the influence of ecstasy during that time. She seemed completely at ease with having her body used as a mural. We’d already had a lot of play time in a structure close by that let us “fly” into the air.  It had been a church originally, but had morphed into a little circus playground.  The tall ceilings and long dimensions were perfect for a large trapeze and swing arrangement.  I’d swung Kim back and forth across the length of the structure until she was flying high and gracefully across from one end to another. She was a natural at acrobatics and relished the moments in the air. Her slender body seemed to levitate at any moment she chose to breathe that energy into it.

Back at the house, we also had high ceilings and a rather unsophisticated set of silks cascading from the ceiling. I strung Kate upside down and hoisted her towards the roof as she opened her limbs to create a  playful dance in defiance of gravity. Moments later, she stripped down to nakedness, leaned against me as she handed me a paint brush and said “do me.”  Taking a deep breath, I embarked on an adventure in putting color to her skin and following the hills and valleys of her body as smoothly as I could.

When I let her go off into the late afternoon, I didn’t know if she’d be available for evening fun. Once I gathered her up at the reception and we found our favorite Houston water fountain, I knew it would be a memorable end of the day.  We jumped in the water, not quite naked, but close enough.  The warm air beckoned endless fun.

She finally said to me:  “Take me to the zoo.  I want you… to take me to the zoo… yes, I want you.“ We did eventually manage to surmount the security mechanisms and I had some keys for some of the animal areas. I laid her down in the hay and wrapped my body around her as her face turned into a pleasant smile. A few hours later, I wrapped her in a blanket as she laid against the baby camel as though to sail into a dream while I departed

That night a beautiful full moon expressed it’s ease to me and I realized once again, life can have an element of charm at any moment.

As I passed a parked taxicab on my bike, I heard the warbling sounds of Dean Martin coming to my ears with that wonderful song:

“Blue Moon”

Written by Richard Rogers in 1934.

What a wonderful ballad with lyrics that let the heart to soar.

Dino… in all his ease and slow adoration of the lyrics

She’s Seventeen and Makin’ a Scene

Houston Texas 1970

With a college diploma firmly in my hand and a double major in zoology and chemistry, I headed South. I needed a new perspective and a new environment. And I needed to get out of Missouri. Arriving in Houston to visit a friend, I decided to stay and find out what I might be able to do for money. A little ad in the newspaper stirred my imagination. The Houston Children’s Zoo needed someone to teach respect for Mother Nature while driving a van load of animals out to the school systems. It was a definitely a dream job. I had volunteer aides from the Junior League to help me.  They were all dressed up, very professional and seemingly unfazed by any unexpected moves the animals might make.  I was dressed up like a mini version of Jack Hanna.  We had squawking birds, wriggly balls of fur and a baby elephant. I started the talks off with a 6 foot long boa constrictor over my shoulders (donated by a local strip act so she was used to being handled).

The trips out to the classes were energized and playful. This wasn’t work as far as I was concerned. It was enjoyable recreation.

And the return to the zoo around 2PM was even more fun. Afternoons were for washing the baby elephant in the warm Texas sun. Intrigue was also aplenty as a young lass sailed into this circus atmosphere soon after I got the job. She was there recovering from a drug addiction and taking care of the animals was her special therapy. She loved them big, she loved them small, she loved them all. But her particular affection was reserved for a baby giraffe. She was probably 17 years old, I was 22 and we hit it off swimmingly. In fact, we were wet most of the time as we wound up showering off the baby pachyderm, hosing down each other and basically ignoring the stares out the administrative windows of the “main zoo”.  Those guys had absolutely no sense of humor and with our mindset we could not help but enjoy each other’s company no matter what. And I was shielded from the disapproving glare of upper management by my immediate supervisor. After all, my boss at the children’s zoo compound gave me glowing reports and thought I was “interesting”.  I thought it was “interesting” that she was smoking a joint with me at noon time while we enjoyed lunch.

So the 17 year old was lithe and lean with a winsome smile and a whole new attitude now that she was drug clean. She was also an artist from a rather well to do “old money’ society Houston family. Her art was spirited, easy and free flowing.  It was almost like she breathed the colors onto the canvas. Her work was inspirational to behold and it was only natural that at some point she would have an exhibition that would be attended by a wide variety of people and given some attention in the press.  The reception for her gathering had professors, lawyers, judges, business tycoons and a complete array of well dressed Houston elites. She was simply stunning in a little black outfit that hugged her body like a glove. Her blonde hair offset the inky outline of her body. Her outfit looked like it had been poured onto her like liquid silk.  As the line of well wishers passed by her to shake her hand, there were murmers and surprised inhales emitted from a couple of women. I’d just caught a glimpse of her as I’d moved up to congratulate her.  On really taking her in, I realized that this “little black outfit” was nothing more than artful body paint and her torso was the canvas. She looked breathtakingly ravishing. Mid handshake, a guest would realize she wasn’t wearing a damn thing, even though the black paint provided some sense of modesty. That is, if you consider pert nipples to be “modest”.

Oh, my.  What a night. This girl knew how to have fun and enjoy life. We would certainly enjoy each other in the coming weeks. At one point, she broke out laughing uncontrollably and I determined I needed to get her out of there. She was already a spectacle enough without bringing more attention to herself. Someone else could deal with the business of buying paintings.  I bundled her cuteness up in a long shawl and whisked her away out into the night as the sound system indoors hit the opening licks of the Doors:

“My eyes have seen you.”

Lakeside Liveliness

The Smoky Mountains have an undeniable charm to them and one of the best photographers to capture that charm is Doug McPherson. The above shot is reminiscent of my initial impressions of the area and I’m grateful for his visual skills in capturing the magical qualities of the area.

Photo credits: Doug McPherson                                                                            Link to his special body of work:                                                    http://douglas-mcpherson.artistwebsites.com  http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/douglas-mcpherson.html

Coming into Western North Carolina on silent wings, one of the most striking things you notice is how lush the landscape is and yet how ancient and sleeping the hills are underneath this  green blanket of energy. My Aunt Betty and Uncle Clyde had arranged for me to work at Camp Mondamin in Tuxedo, N.C. on Lake Summit. Frank Bell was their friend and owner of the Camp and that alliance gave me entrance into a job as Camp Counselor.

The job was another one of those dream jobs that seemed to drop into my lap without any effort on my part. I was hired to teach art to the boys. I’ll readily admit that I had absolutely no understanding of what “art” in a camp setting would encompass.  So I made it up.  We played with clay, paint and wood.  We got creative and played with whatever materials were in the area. With chisels and hammers we sculpted and carved to our heart’s content. When it seemed we ran out of things to fool around with, I found an abandoned air cooled VW engine under one of the cabins and we tore it down, rebuilt it and loved it.  With a lot of unartfully applied grease and some artfully applied pinstriping, I gotta admit that it qualified as a “work of art”

It was a summer of sun, fun and the time was second to none.  There is a lot to be valued in breathing fresh air, running thru the pine trees with abandon and impromptu swimming in a great lake in the mountains with the sky overhead. At the same time, the camaraderie, excitement and time spent providing guidance to a bunch of youthful, energetic and seemingly inexhaustible wildcats made the moments memorable and somewhat magical as the long sunny days set everyone at ease. Adding to the beauty of the setting were the beauties who worked across the lake at the neighboring camp for girls. Those young female camp counselor counterparts were a delight to frolic with and engage in canoe races, swimming contests and fun with volleyballs. These efforts usually resulted in a lot of playful horsing around with everyone getting wet and laughing in the warm summer air.  The lively atmosphere also set in motion some “unauthorized” get togethers in the woods that would rekindle my desire to dance in an uninhibited fashion with a heart that was as light as the Carolina air.

The first indication that there was intrigue a brewing in the future was the eye contact made with the camp counselor girls during a campfire evening. A knowing look, an admiring glance and a smile set in motion a set of dreams of flirtatious dalliances that would have to be acted upon in the coming weeks.

Amidst the dreams of charming and disarming young ladies, the setting sun on the water began to relax  my breathing as the rhythmic sounds from the lodge fell fully into Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ on the dock of the Bay”

I sat on the dock and smiled at my thoughts…. “What a life amidst the wildlife and zero strife”

The coming weeks would show me just how lovely life could be in the woods.