Look for me, somewhere down Rays of Light Way...

Hi,
I'll be away for a few days. I'm taking my darling daughter to Amsterdam.
So no blog.
But you can always visit Rays of Light on FB, where I will post the occasional photo and comment.
The link is right here: Rays of Light on FB

See you!

Renée

Get Out of your Pupa!

Hi there, dreamers and wild children. Peace, to you!
This evening there were so many huge dragonflies in my garden that I stood amazed.
We used to see them occasionally, but this Summer we have masses.
I like them, they hover and swoop over our pond. The fact that they are ferocious killers doesn't diminish their beauty. (And they kill for food. Not for any other purpose. They do not try to take over one side of the garden...to make but a tiny point)

 

artwork by Emily Kill

Dragonflies and butterflies. They belong to The Wetlands' Summer as the bees and, unfortunately, mosquitoes.

What they all have in common is that they start their life as larvae. Ugly blind little things they are. And then they hide themselves for awhile and undergo a transformation. And grow wings.

I don't know about you, but I have only lately began to grow my wings.

Some people do this much earlier on in life. Some others never get beyond the hiding stage. And yet some stay ugly blind larvae all their lives.

The last couple of days I have heard a song on the radio, which made me think about butterflies and dragonflies. Don't ask me why; it has nothing to do with them, except the refrain is 'danse', and those dragonflies and butterflies dance across my vision. But still... It is in French, and if you don't understand this language, never mind. Simply let the lyrics wash over you along with the music. 

And imagine yourself growing wings.

Derniere danse. Indila.

PS In case you are wondering why I remain silent about the Israel-Palistine War...

I have nothing, nothing, nothing to add, no wisdom to impart, no solutions to offer, except my deep pain and regrets about the violence.

Killing children? I have no words to adequately express my disapproval. Shame, shame, shame on both sides!

 

Viggo Speaks Out! An in-depth interview.

Good afternoon to you all!
The tale about my black tom Viggo destroying the tuning part of my guitar as a statement has sparked quite a few comments.
So I decided to allow a quick interview, to set all your minds at rest.

(Viggo on one of his preferred resting spots in the garden)

- You destroyed your woman's guitar by kicking it off its stand? Can you tell us something about this?

V: First of all, she is not 'my woman'.

- Sorry?!

V: I adopted her when she came to the animal shelter, all needy, and I liked the look of her. She smelled good. So I decided to go and live with her.

- The guitar?

V: Yeah, well, I came in through the balcony doors, it was cold out, and I felt a bit peckish. So I did my usual wake-up call, but she refused to wake up. So then I decided to make a statement.

- Was there no other way? I mean, that guitar was supposedly brand new. It's a bit harsh, don't you think?

V: No, not really. I did try to wake her up. I even was quite gentle about it, I only tugged her hair once. She hid her head under the duvet. What could I do? So I jumped up on the bookcase ledge, at just the right height for the guitar. It was easy, a kitten could have done it. All it took was one nudge. Just a nudge. Reports of me kicking anything are definitely untrue.

- She said it was an almighty crash. And that you did it out of spite for not jumping out of bed and feeding you.

V: No comment.

- Well, is it true that you tend to destroy books in order to get fed?

V: Who told you that?

-Your wo...Sorry. The woman you adopted.

V: Look, sweetheart, a cat's got to do what a cat's got to do. I have needs. You have to understand I patrol the garden all night long, to keep the strays out. And I catch at least three moles or voles a week, that's hard work, right? I need to keep my strength up.

-Yes, but books! They are...

V: Sacred? Rubbish! They smell funny. And she has taken to putting the newspapers straight into the wheelie bin, so I cannot get to them anymore. So I have to take what's handy.

-You don't look all that macho. In fact, she has told me she adores you and that you decidedly have a soft side to you.

V: She knows how to rub my fur in just the right way, yeah. And I do like to get my belly tickled. Okay, okay, I admit it. She's quite a catch, as adopted women go. She hardly ever denies me anything, and she isn't one of those soppy "Ooooooh-kitty-kitty-kitty" kind either. She leaves me in peace when I have to digest my food. And I come and go as I please. So, yeah, I do purr a lot, she seems to like that. And in the cold weather she's nice and warm to cuddle up to on the bed.

-Don't you feel just a little bit sorry for all that trouble she had to go to with that guitar?

V: No.

-Is there anything you would like to say to the people who read this interview with you?

V: Send cat food. Oh...and send salami. I have recently acquired a taste for that. And a bit of catnip never goes wasted.

-Thank you.

V: You can leave now!

Sometimes All it Takes is an Optimistic Heart (and a little pig-headedness)

Told you I am trying to learn how to play the guitar, haven't I? And I've also told you some time ago that my beloved black tomcat Viggo had kicked my brand new semi-acoustic  guitar off its stand (because he wanted to be fed! Can you believe this cat?!) , right?
And the shop I asked for a repair quote told me it was going to cost me 250 Euros, minimum. 
And that my insurance said I had a risk of 150 Euros to be paid by little old me, before they would pay for the rest of the repair.
And (I didn't tell you this, but it is what happened) I left my lovely guitar in my room, next to my bed, and mourned it. And I looked at it every day, and cursed my bad luck. And then, two days ago, I decided to turn events around and try to repair it myself.

I looked at it very carefully, then loosened the strings, took some Bison wood glue and a fine brush, and brushed the glue into the crack. Then I put two glue thingies on (don't know the word, sorry, but there is a photo below). And waited for 2 days.

This afternoon I, again very carefully, took off those glue thingies, with baited breath. It looked okay...

And then, after a huge optimistic 'it will be okay!' affirmation hurled into the universe, I tuned it, ever so carefully.

It gave one nasty 'twang!', nearly giving me a heart attack, but...It is tuned. It has been played...

HAPPYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Btw, this isn't me! I'm chubby. But cheerful.

So. Mission accomplished. Glad I tried.