Swansblossom

....blossoming....
....as much as my heart will allow....
'There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.' (Anais Nin.)
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....a very wobbly bit of bach practice; having the camera peeking over my shoulder makes me more wobbly still, but it is better than nothing, and shall suit the curious....
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....haydn recital...the original unedited film.....
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Being an indulgent soul, I thought I might compile an A to Z of Swansblossom.
It shall keep me amused for a spell....
A    Angels. Obviously.

      You can either aspire towards the angelic, or find your self caught, inexplicably, amongst the glorious raiments and wings. I am perhaps hopping between the two, having arrived at the conclusion that the conceit sits well with my nature, I am happy to perpetuate the idea, tending my delicate airs and graces.
B    Bluebells....
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspWe should take every opportunity to step lightly amongst the bluebells.
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspI also adore Bees, Blossoms, Blouses, Blackbirds....
      Too many b's to mention...buttons, bustles, butterfly clips, books... though most seem...bonnets, blushes... to trickle... blueberries, bows... through here and make themselves known elsewhere.
       Brides are bright inspiration, a feminine celebration, a cherished ideal, even if I can never believe in the absolute of a happy ever after, I am still caught on the fairytale; casting bright glances, full of wonder; admiring the dresses, cooing over the details; rich spun silks, bows and bustles, dainty slippers, tiaras and feathery combs. I am forever stealing as much of a brides radiance as I dare. As with angels...I can pick up the veil, adopt a cheeky swagger and be astonished at my own appearance.
C    Crinolines.
      Voluminous skirts are delightful in their wilful abandon, a theatrical excess, a giddy tumble of petticoats, possessed of a teasing playfulness, quite absent elsewhere. The sounds of silken rustlings, ravish the ears, as intimations of whispery desires. It is a pleasure to see women lifting their long skirts as they climb the stairs,
a glance back towards a lost age.
D    Dreams, Dovecotes.
E    Electrician days.
F    Flounces, Freckles.
      Flounces are necessary, delicious softening.
Freckles are sunkissed signs of brighter days, like daisies scattered across a lawn. My face has always been blessed with freckles, though I am now quite beyond the fair sprinkling, cast across the innocent cheeks of my childhood. There are also certain favourite freckles, familiar patterns, which I have often tried to recognise as having some kind of significance, just as I might try to read the constellations of stars in the night sky.
G    Gowns and gentleness.
       One must encourage the other, else I am failing somewhere. Sumptuous gowns nurture a divine sensitivity, as I pause, breath held, afraid to break the spell. Historical gowns bring all their grand associations and carry an undoubted presence. French robes are my favourite, the shimmering gowns of a Watteau painting; neat sleeves, cut at the elbow, spill forth intricate feathers of lace, while deep folded pleats fall from the shoulders, providing a unique silhouette.
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp If you are lucky enough to find Emma, then she shall be happy to rustle up such a delightful confection....
H    Hairstyles.
      
I    Ivory towers.
      Why are such imaginary structures frowned upon ? I wish to build my Ivory tower ever higher, thus making it easier to poke my head into the clouds. I know where I am, whilst I have my head in the clouds.
J    Jams.
K    Knot gardens.
L    Lotions and indulgent bathing.
       Not a bubble bath person, but I do have a collection of pots and jars, which contain rich salt scrubs, sugary concoctions and cool clay emollients. Each of these is accompanied by a subtle scented creme or norishing body butter, to leave me feeling suitably pampered. Hot baths do make me sleepy, usually emerging as floppy and weak as a new born lamb, wishing then that I might have someone to carry me to my bed, slip me between cool crisp sheets, comb the damp hair from my brow.
       Lazy days bring playful moments, I have never grown out of the styling possibilities of having my hair thick with shampoo, a slick lather holding sculpted waves in place. The gravity defying curves and whirls, as my hair is combed around, teased ever higher, towards a giddy conclusion. How I wish those styles could stay forever, yet they remain transient, slipping even as I watch, till my hair collapses in slippery defeat.
M    Monsoon, Moonlight.
      Romantic silver dust, sprinkled across the landscape, the glimpse of shimmering moonlight on water, or the sterile glare of disinterested nonchalance, moonlight serves to suit any mood;
a heaven borne mirror, slave to the sun, reflection of our souls.
N    Night, Nocturnes.
O    Outdoor adventures, Organza.
P    Pianos, Polka dots.
Q    Quilts.
R    Rocking horses, Roses, Ribbons.
      I adore ribbons that rise across the shoulders, to tie in loose, supple bows; a mere whisper away from a delicious unfurling, a let fall of satin.
S    Stories.
T    Tabbymoth.
      My love for Tabbymoth knows no bounds. She is granted unfailing access to my affections.
U    Uppityhair.
V    Vintage treasures.
W    Wooden shutters, Watermeadows.
      Sweet delights amongst the wild meadow flowers, the river slipping by, the sound of water lulling the imagination. A place for dreams.
X    Kisses.
      Think here of the delicate kiss of a fairy tale; the kiss which awakens sleeping beauty or the kiss that transforms the frog into a prince. Kisses which break a spell and provide magical moments of transformation.
Y    Yawning.
Z    zzzzz....sleeping.
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Quite fascinated by my eyes at the moment, full of a desire to dust my eyelids with velvety soft eye shadows, while I tease my lashes with midnight blue mascara. Black hardly suits my moods, I would rather have subtle shades and dusky blushes of boudoir colour.
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I did a little dance and then  I edited my profile with Thomas Myspace Editor V4.4 (www.strikefile.com/myspace)