Windmills In the Front Yard

There are thirteen windmills and three birdhouses in the yard of a house facing a busy street. Each one sports its own unique architecture and paint job. Cars whizz around the curve and most drivers probably don't have time to notice the windmills. Many of them are half-hidden among the evergreens lining the sidewalk. Who built these and why are there so many? Are they an homage to the builder's Dutch ancestry? Perhaps they were the work of a retired shop teacher with a basement full of tools, or of someone with dreams of opening a series of miniature golf courses. I'll never know. It's enough to be able to slow down and enjoy the sight. 

Waiting For the Music

On a meltingly hot evening, the lawn of Wolf Trap was already filled with people waiting for the start of the sold-out Moody Blues concert. "Days of Future Passed" was released 50 years ago and the Moodies were performing the entire album. As the sky faded into darkness, their signature spacy-choir harmonies mixed with orchestral melodies and guitar riffs. Parents who were teenagers in 1967 enjoyed the music with their children's children. The die hard fans in the rows closest to the stage danced.  During the encore, the  audience, which had come from all around the Washington DC area, sang hopefully or ruefully or plaintively the lines from "Question:"
"I'm looking for someone to change my life,
 I'm looking for a miracle in my life..."

Dolls In the Window

They sit on a windowsill behind a sheer curtain in someone's office, their backs to the parking lot. The dolls never change. One rests a protective hand on the smallest doll's shoulder. Another leans to the side, as if to get a better view of the goings-on in the office, or perhaps to shimmy down from the window sill and escape. No one combs the blond's hair. Why are they there? Have they been forgotten?  It's mysterious and slightly sad, imbued with a sense of waiting, but for...what?

Plastic Bags With Blue Zips

Kevin Womack makes art quilts. Some of them are created from fabrics that he has printed from photographic images. He cuts and sews them into radiating blocks. The completed patchwork invites you to look closely and carefully at the individual patches, after you have taken in the quilt as a whole. Working this way requires careful organization. Kevin sorts and stores the cut patches in plastic bags. I am intrigued by the way the pile of bags creates a new design. My eyes insist on following the blue zips as they zig and zag through the pile. Out of this asymmetry comes order--literally. See  Kevin's quilts--the ones from this series as well as the ones made from his art fabrics--on his web site: https://www.kevinwomackart.com/

Hot Summer Colors

At the farmers market, a convergence of cherry tomatoes and cut flowers caught my eye. The mingled yellows and magentas looked Indian, or perhaps Mexican. They raised the memory of curries and chiles on my tongue. Just as with flavors and scents, we associate colors with places, even if they are places we have never visited in person. These colors speak of heat to me.