My Fascination with Orange…..

We read symbols all the time–many even more potent than words! Television jingles from childhood still exist in our brains, corporate logos blanket our urban environments. Even blank walls carry their own messages. I found this photo of the orange wall online and added my message to you.

I want to involve you in this exploration of orange. Each color has it’s own personality. Orange has been neglected. Let’s change that! The range from pale peach to blazing orange offers unlimited options. Let’s communicate with each other. Three women have already sent me photos to include in the next post. Now it’s your turn! Send me your photos and your comments about your photos. I will share them with the group for ongoing comments and reactions. Do it this week! Get involved and next week I will post them.

Consider this! As a girl I traveled much of the U.S. on family camping trips. Kodak film signs greeted us everywhere we drove. Do you remember this, too? Kodak, the corporation, must have done extensive market research on choosing what the most effective colors to use for all their advertising. It was two shades of orange!

Kathy G mentioned that she had never known of other color wheels either. I was introduced to this unique color wheel when I read Joen Wolfrom’s book Color Play. Wolfrom sells tools to help use this vibrant version of the color wheel http://joenwolfrom.com/ Herbert Ives (1882-1953) was a scientist and engineer who headed the development of facsimile and television systems at AT&T in the first half of the twentieth century.

Color

Ives was also an accomplished photographer and inventor. He developed this color wheel based on physics and the true colors in nature. Reportedly, the Ives’ color wheel is the wheel of choice for all fabric, furniture, clothing, yarn and paper companies! Ives’ primary colors are Cyan (Turquoise), Magenta, and Yellow. Computers too, use this system. When you buy ink for your printer, note the C, M, Y designations.

Soothing Shades of Peach, Cantaloupe and Tangerine
I’m drawn to these pale, warm (not hot) colors too. Pale versions of orange are generally tinted with white or gray to tone down the “volume” of pure orange. Think sherbet. Picture antique apricot-color velvet curtains. Or picture a group of well worn vintage books. Next I’ve provided some examples of subdued, soothing shades from the talented photographer Chris Lawton.

This “Still Life” could hang above my mantel for years–then I could study the colors, the composition, and the energy contained in each detail. How soon would the bird take off? Would she stay and sing? Would the hibiscus flower bud open today? Is breakfast coming to this table soon? Lawton

The curves and cave elements draw me into this photograph. I’ve never seen a ceiling like this one before. Have any of you? The tree-like columns reference the “tree of life” symbol of ancient Crete for me. The play of light along the curved path is hypnotizing. The hint of green leaves in the distance is almost shocking. Lawton

The soothing colors of the foreground draw us into the deep blues of the distant sea. The grid of the black wrought iron gate adds unexpected punctuation. Lawton


Nature Demands Our Attention
Our everyday surroundings offer us amazing observations. Let’s pay attention to all we have to celebrate in the natural world of leaf and sky, sunrise and sunset.

Winter can offer a variety of spectacular images when we stay aware of nature’s offerings.

Is this leaf orange or brown? Possibly both! One of my friends, A.A., has a passion for brown. I consider brown a close relative of orange–think about the color “rust”. Is it orange with a lot of brown? Speaking of brown, all the traditional “color wheels” ignore so many fabulous options like black, white, brown, gray and chocolate! And taupe! Some of my favorite quilting time was spent exploring the possibilities of those subtle, but vibrant Diawabo taupe fabrics like those I found at Sager Creek Quilts https://www.sagercreekquilts.com/. This is a subject for another day!

Natural Sights: Look Around You
Photos of the sun or moon, rising or setting, over any puddle or other body of water, offers the observer many varieties of yellows and oranges evolving or dissolving into one another. Again, notice how the dark accents heighten the drama.

Closing this post with an attentive canine unaware of our admiration. The shaggy doggy fur in many shades of multiple colors contrasts with the harsh metal of a vividly orange vehicle. Contrasts are a central part of engaging the eye and mind of a viewer.

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Exploring the Color Orange

“Compositions matter. Artfully arranged, anything can become a thing of beauty.”
designer Barbara Barry, House Beautiful, January 2013 p.79

Another photographer composed this picture demonstrating the range of colors in the orange family as they move into yellow. The composition of this photograph is worth studying. Note the neutral background and the play of shadows on the foreground subject.

The umbrella photo recalls my introduction to the variety of “color wheels” humans have created. I was under the illusion that there was only one color wheel—the one I was introduced to as a child with red, blue and yellow as the primary colors. As a quilter, I was finally made aware that the color wheel is merely a way to interpret the spectrum of light perceived by human eyes. A color wheel is like a language of color. Different groups can create and adopt different color wheels! Wow, what a revelation for me.

The Ives color wheel used by computers seems more accurate and accessible to me. The primary colors in the Ives wheel are: magenta, yellow and turquoise! One consequence of using this wheel is that orange is directly opposite of turquoise. That makes turquoise the complement of orange!! This explains to me why the terracotta roofs and pots look perfect against the blue doors and blue sky of the Mediterranean.

In studying the this photo, I notice all the curves. Starting with the arch and including all the shapely clay pots as well as the curved edges of the flagstone entry. The multiple curve shapes contrast with the square shapes of the door and elements of the building. The strong contrasts of light in the photo are central to the intrigue portrayed here!


Natural building materials of stone, brick and wood always benefit from accents of color and textures.

Here I’ve focused my camera on the display of island-grown oranges and tomatoes—artfully arranged! I took this photo of a taverna located near the Dictean Cave with a spectacular view overlooking the Lasithi plateau in central Crete, Greece. The artist who created this arrangement certainly caught my eye! The repeated dots of orange in a variety of positions demands our attention.

Orange is the only color whose name also describes a fruit! And not just any fruit, but a citrus fruit with a distinctive tangy and sweet flavor. To my mind the color orange offers similar qualities to our sense of sight! Orange can range from a warm subtle terracottta color to a bright screaming orange of traffic cones.

My desire to explore the possibilities of orange in my quilts and in my own wardrobe began a few years before my one woman quilt show at the Arts Center of the Ozarks in 2008. I know that because during that show I offered a workshop on using orange in our quilts. I believe that my interest in using orange was sparked, in part, by association with LoVina Payton, a prolific quilter in our quilt guild for years.

Another photographer exploring Crete discovered this simple and dramatic display. Here the textures of the different size baskets with the green accents of the orange leaves demands our attention. Notice how the one boat-shaped basket draws your eye. It is unusual, in a composition, to place the heaviest objects on the upper shelf.

Pleasing the Human Eye

Have you noticed how the human eye is pleased by moving across related colors? Because the vibration of orange is a strong sensation it is often better used as an accent color or as “punctuation”—my word for small amounts of a zinger color. Here are two examples with a range of related colors.

Both photographs above yield a smooth transition of colors. Yet there is enough variety in the complex fabric or in the leaves to keep our eye engaged! As quilters, this is a major challenge for us. We strive to keep the viewer’s attention. Revealing a too-regular and easily discernable pattern can be boring. Life is full of contrasts in shape, size, color and especially light. Our eyes desire engagement. My eyes appreciate the chance to fully explore both these photos each time I’ve encountered them. That’s why I’ve included them here.

Everyday artistry was obvious everywhere I looked in the small fishing village of Mochlos located on the north east shore of Crete. The Hotel Mochlos welcomed us with this arched entrance painted a warm terracotta contrasting with the natural stone, the green potted plants and a dash of brilliant blue. After long days on the tour bus I felt welcomed home.

My last examples of the versatility of orange all come from the natural world.


Butterfly weed thriving in our front garden here in Arkansas attracts the Pipe Vine Swallowtail butterfly clothed in dramatic black with iridescent blue shadings. Orange and black will always be a dramatic combination.

Orange Bougainvillea is a more unusual color than the magenta variety which is my favorite. This photo, too, was taken in Mochlos in the fall of 2017. The vibrant orange flowers remind me of growing up in Miami Springs, Florida in the 1950s because the neighbors who lived across the street from us had an out-of-control orange bougainvillea vine like this rambling over their garage. Here the backdrop of the blue sky adds to the appeal.

The early morning sunrise in Mochlos displays the subtle orange of dawn reflecting on the sea. Anyone who admires a sunrise or sunset knows that the colors merge and change quickly. I managed to capture the morning glow as the sun appeared from behind the mountain beyond the crescent shaped beach of the village.

Is it red or is it orange? Perhaps some of both as the colors merge and shift in the morning light. When I choose fabric I watch for a fabric that contains what I’ve called inner light. Below is an example.

The print with the shades of orange and peach is a perfect example of one print with a variety of colors and shades which keep the eye moving and engaged in seeing the pattern presented by the quilter.

“Grape Clusters” is an original design which started with the center embroidered piece worked on a fine quality linen that I discovered years ago at a thrift shop. Once I added my creativity with the framing borders, it became a TimeSpan quilt. I plan to finish this top for the small quilt auction at our guild show in early April.

This sunrise photo looks across the narrow channel to the islet of Mochlos where archaeologists continue to discover 4,000 year old artifacts from the early inhabitants of Crete. The peach sky and the variety of gray colors of the clouds and water present a peaceful scene. Perhaps peach and gray might be the starting point of your next quilt?

If you have examples of quilts or photos with an interesting orange theme or orange accents, send me a photo. Once I receive several items from you all, I will do another post using your photos and any explanations or comments you send me.

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Adventures in Arkansas-Part 1

Three tables filled with locally collected crystals grabbed my attention! I stopped. This visit to the rustic shop on the drive down to Hot Springs was an unscheduled stop. The terrier was part of the charm. I looked for crystals that I felt called me to take them home with me. Then I poked around the dusty corners of the dark interior, and found several treasures to add to the crystals I’d chosen. Stopping on a whim is one of the pleasures of traveling solo!

In late July, 2018, I traveled to Hot Springs, AR to present a trunk show. The Hot Springs Quilt Guild’s warm welcome included someone using my camera to take photos during my presentation about memory and scrapbook quilts. Here is a quick replay from that presentation.

My display of memory and scrapbook covered the entire front of the room.

left, “25 Years of Quilting” honors 2019 as my 25th year! I used a commemorative fabric from Quilter’s Newsletter Magazine issued in 1994 (the year I began quilting) to honor the magazines 25th year of publication. The blue colorway used on the front inspired my original design. On the back I used the same commemorative fabric printed in the white colorway–I found this fabric years after I bought the first one at Lila’s shop Quilt Your Heart Out in 1994.
right, “Colorado Jay” is the result of our guild challenge to make a small quilt from a photo we had taken. This Stellar’s Jay is a raucous native of the Rockies–note the photo I’m holding on the far right.

I always take the time to create a display of the quilts knowing that quilters are “visual learners”. When I am in the audience, I always enjoy seeing quilts a speaker brings for more than one minute per quilt.

left, “Vintage Kittens” began as a quilt kit purchased in the late1940s by Jeanne’s mother who, at that time, lived near Cleveland, Ohio. Her mom asked me to finish it about 2005. I hand quilted it as a surprise.
right, “Basket of Dimes” is a TimeSpan quilt. The center black area with the basket made of tiny yoyos was probably stitched in the 1930s or 1940s judging by the vintage fabrics. I found it as a pillow at a thrift shop. I transformed it by adding borders and quilting. These are the smallest yoyos I’ve ever seen. Each is about the size of a dime–thus the name Basket of Dimes.


Quilter Becomes an Architectural Tourist, Again

This vintage green sign caught my eye as I drove through Booneville, Arkansas. I was anxious to get home after an overnight trip to Hot Springs to present my program Memory and Scrapbook Quilts. The presentation had gone well, but I had not slept well at the hotel. I was up early and on the road by 7:00. I ate breakfast, then drove north to one of my favorite quilt shops, Mama’s Log House Quilts, located three hours from home. I enjoyed a long visit with owner, Kaye Voss, and shopped her great selection of fine fabrics including a gorgeous silk and cotton blend in vibrant jewel-tone colors.

I had no intention of stopping as I headed home, but that green sign “Fresh Eggs”, snagged my eye in Booneville. Located in South Logan County at the intersection of Arkansas Scenic Highway 23 and Arkansas Scenic Highway 10, Booneville in not a booming town. But I discovered a treasure. The building I was looking at had large crystal clusters and unique fossils carefully built into the wall! I admired the creativity of the long ago artist who created this magnificent wall. Then I grabbed my camera–took lots of pictures.

“Fresh Eggs” sign made me stop here, but the crystals built into the wall (far left) made me glad I’d stopped to admire this unique sight!

I visited with the young woman who was running the consignment shop in the building. When I asked if she knew anything about how old the building was, she assured me it was really old–maybe built in the 1970s. Later, when I was paying for my purchases, I suggested that the building was probably much older than that–possibly built in the 1920’s or so. She pointed out that vandals had chipped away at many of the large crystal clusters located on the lower part of the wall.

Collage of local treasures,both fossils and crystals, embedded into the wall.

Inspecting

The higher groups of crystals were safe from vandal attacks. Look for the damages sections.

Two other historic buildings in Booneville. The Savage Theater no longer offers locals a chance to gather in their hometown.

As I was driving home I kept wondering if there were other vintage buildings with local crystals embedded in their walls. By searching the Internet, I did find a photo of one other building identified only as existing in Paris, AR which is a larger city located in the north central part of Logan County–see the color map above. Are there others? Did the same builder make both of these? Write me if you know anything about these buildings or their history.

Paris, AR building with a wall including more crystals and fossils. Note the unusual jagged roof line created by the rocks.

When I recently heard the term “architectural tourist”, I thought, “That’s me–that explains why so many of my photos over the years have focused on interesting houses and buildings!” When I lived in my 1888 Victorian house in Kansas City, MO I researched the original owner, subsequent owners and passed that information on to the person I sold my beloved Crescent House to in 1998. Once Jeanne and I created our own owner-built house my interest has only intensified.

Creativity comes in all shapes, form and sizes. One of my favorite authors, Margaret Cruickshank, reminds us, “Creativity is usually regarded as an individual attribute, but it depends on opportunities for expression and a receptive audience.” Decades later, I am pleased that a local builder had the opportunity to feature Arkansas earth treasures in these buildings, making me the receptive audience!

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What is a Pilgrimage? Crete, Part 5

Mysteries of birth, death and regeneration…

What is a Pilgrimage?
Carol Christ who was the leader of the Pilgrimage I embarked on in 2017, answered this question in her October 29, 2018 post: Goddess Pilgrimage: A Sacred Journey for Women. https://feminismandreligion.com/2018/10/29/goddess-pilgrimage-a-sacred-journey/

A pilgrim leaves home and sets off on a journey, seeking healing, revelation, and direction in her life. She finds companions along the way whose stories reflect her own, validating her quest and shedding light on her journey. According to anthropologists Victor Turner and Edith Turner, pilgrimages have common structural elements. A pilgrim separates from family and friends, work and obligations. She steps across a threshold into “liminal space” in which daily routines are suspended, opening herself to discovering new ways of being and living.

For spiritual pilgrims, the goal is a place or places said by others to be a “sacred” because healing or revelation have occurred there through the intervention of a deity, a saint, or spirits. The place is often on a mountain, in a cave, or near a spring. Along the way, pilgrims meet and share stories as in the Canterbury Tales. Some pilgrims say that the experience of sharing community with other seekers is as important as the revelation gained at the destination. When the pilgrim returns home, she must re-integrate into the community she left behind or find a new one.



Goddess pilgrims visiting shrines of the Goddess are self-consciously challenging the religions they have inherited.


A contemporary Goddess Pilgrimage undertaken by culturally western women, differs from other pilgrimages in that the journey begins in dissatisfaction with or rejection of the dominant Christian religion or its antecedent, Judaism. Goddess pilgrims go to places known to have been sacred in the past, before Christianity proclaimed older Goddesses and Gods to have been surpassed and superseded by the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and reluctantly, Mother Mary and the saints.

The places visited by Goddess pilgrims may have been destroyed and now recovered by archaeologists.

Goddess pilgrims visiting shrines of the Goddess are self-consciously challenging the religions they have inherited. Goddess pilgrims seek healing from the “illnesses” known as patriarchy and patriarchal religions. The insights they gain may be considered “heretical” or “fantastical” by friends and families.

Contemporary Goddess pilgrims visit sites of pre-Christian worship in Greece, Crete, England, Ireland, France, Spain, Lithuania, Malta, Egypt, and elsewhere. While many pilgrims visit temples such as those at Delphi that were constructed in patriarchal times, others prefer to visit prehistoric sites such those in as Crete or Malta where the patriarchal overlay is absent.

The pilgrims I traveled with for the two weeks on Crete–late in our journey together.

Birth, Death and Regeneration
Our lives are full of “little deaths” followed by birth and regeneration. When the sun sets each evening the day dies. The night is born and will die at dawn. We rest overnight and greet the new day with energy. We regenerate. We know this cycle.

I wanted to refocus my attention on this reality of death and regeneration being closely entwined. Somehow I knew that this particular pilgrimage offered me the chance to grow and to learn what I needed to know. I’ve written in earlier blogs about my goddess connections beginning in the mid-1970s when I lived in Kansas City, MO. I know that at the root of all people’s cultures, if you dig far enough, is a reverence for Mother Earth and a celebration of the natural cycles throughout the seasons. Before leaving for Crete, I wrote “I want to remember who I am.”

Standing on the north shore of Crete in the tiny fishing village of Mochlos, I watched the changes in the sky moment by moment that brought the rebirth of another day.

Revelations
Marija Gimbutus, draws on her own archeological findings as well as the work of others in her field, then considers folklore, historical texts, including images and texts from ancient Greece and the ancient Near East to describe the Old European civilizations. According to the evidence amassed by Gimbutus, the religious symbolism was based on the life-creating female body and the cycles of life. For thousands of years this was the central belief of all our ancestors! Gimbutus notes that in Old Europe (Neolithic Europe and Asia Minor, also known as ancient Anatolia, during the time period between 7000 BCE and 3000 BCE) “religion focused on the wheel of life and its cyclical changing”.1 Modern archeologists have gathered evidence from burial sites all over the region. Gimbutus writes about the strong womb and tomb connection known to our ancestors.

The womb constitutes one of the most potent funerary themes of Old Europe. In the old European cyclical view of the life continuum, new life arose from death in the spiraling pattern of birth, life, death, and rebirth. The Old European tomb is also a womb, from which new life emanates. Often as in the Maltese megalithic complex at Mnajdra, the tomb-shrine took the shape of the goddess. The shrines at Lepenski Vir were triangular, evoking the pubic triangle, an abstraction of the goddess. The floors were made of red limestone and clay mixture, perhaps reflecting the blood of life.”2

Where is Lepenski Vir?
The previous passage led me on a new avenue to explore! Where is Lepenski Vir? My internet search led me to these photos from Serbia. The site of this ancient village is recreated here.

At Lepenski Vir the floors of each dwelling were made of a red clay and limestone mixture, perhaps representing the blood of life.

Lepenski Vir was declared a Monument of Culture of Exceptional Importance in 1979, and it is protected by the Republic of Serbia. It was only in 1967 that its importance was fully understood after the discovery of the first Mesolithic sculptures. The excavations ended in 1971 when the whole site was relocated 29.7m higher to avoid flooding from a new artificial lake created in the Iron Gates gorge. The main contribution to exploration of this site was through the work of professor Dragoslav Srejovic of the University of Belgrade: 136 buildings, settlements and altars were found in the initial excavations in 1965-1970.

Yes, I’ve been directed to a new avenue to explore as I learn about Lepenski Vir, an Old European settlement in Serbia. This important Mesolithic archaeological site is located in southeast Serbia on the central Balkan peninsula. Here is the evidence of a civilized society built on the banks of the Danube River about 7-8 thousand years ago, but only discovered in 1965. The vast territory lying between the Black sea and the Adriatic sea comprising the modern states of Romania, Albania, Greece, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovenia, Serbia and Montenegro was known as the Balkans. Certainly this is part of the area Gimbutus calls Old Europe.

The living spiral starts with our birth.

Yesterday was winter solstice marking the longest night and shortest day of the year. Today begins the next phase of the sun cycle with each day slightly longer until the peak at summer solstice. After we cleaned the build up of sticky black creosote from our stovepipe, I’ve spent much of my day thinking about the ancient past and considering my own mortality. Marija Gimbutus tells me, ” Old European tombs reveal the holistic spirituality of the culture. The tomb was a place of healing, both of the living and of the dead, a place where the goddess not only held the lifeless body but regenerated the dead into new life.”3 I believe Marija Gimbutus was a wise woman and continue to read her words as one would listen to a mentor. I’m continuing to be excited about exploring the concept of the “tomb as womb”. My own pilgrimage continues into 2019 as I seek more revelations.

1 The Living Goddesses, p.3
2 Ibid p.70
3 Ibid p.71

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Following the Dream: Crete, Part 4

Last October I managed to transport myself from my everyday world to the Mediterranean island of Crete, Greece. How did I manage to pull this off? This is a question I ask myself. Sometimes, someone else asks me a variation of that question. I have been thinking about the many layers of answers which are accurate.

My wish to explore the ancient goddess civilization that flourished on Minoan Crete was deep and strong. I needed a stubborn desire because there were hurdles to my participating in the Goddess Pilgrimage. First hurdle was the financial consequences of withdrawing money from my retirement fund–not an easy decision. The health hurdle was a central consideration. In early 2017, I started chemotherapy to try to shrink the tumor affecting my right arm and right hand. By August, 2017 my energy was still good, but the long term exposure to the chemotherapy was an unknown. I signed up for the Goddess pilgrimage with high hopes. I believed this trip would “remind me of who I am”. And it has done that!

My belief in my creative self, and my trust in traveling with feminist women convinced me I could do the long flights and then fourteen very full days exploring Crete. The encouragement and support of both Jeanne, my life partner, and Martha, my friend of forty years, were essential. The woman who is my primary care physician also provided valuable advice and support. Many of my women friends cheered me on. As I prepared for the long flights, I consulted friends who have experienced the current airport security measures–this was a primary worry for me–how to navigate the Transportation Safety Administration rules and regulations.

The first step was obtaining a passport. I had only seven weeks! I put all my focus on gathering the necessary documents. Since Martha lives in New Jersey, I arranged the trip to spend one night with her each way. This would break up the trip from Arkansas to the east coast and then on to the twelve hour flight to Athens. Just in case the overseas flight arrived late, I needed to allow a long layover in Athens before the hour flight to Crete. I tried to figure all this out myself, but finally resorted to help from a travel service, i.e. Bank of America. (I was desperate for help.)

The woman assisting me was quite helpful and it took several hours on the phone–with lots of stress involved. Finding nonstop flights at the late date was almost impossible. I did manage to get a nonstop for the Newark to Athens leg at the beginning of the trip. But I did not understand the fare structure that the airlines had instituted to raise the prices of economy by offering a sub-economy fare with many restrictions. So for several of the flights I was on a sub-economy ticket and not permitted any carry-on luggage. Only a single “personal item” was permitted and within strict measurements.

This may seem like boring trivia, but I mention this because it can be a rude awakening at the airport. In studying the luggage weight restrictions, I quickly found that if your one checked bag weighs over 50 pounds the airline will charge you a $200 fee. To ease my mind I ordered, for less that ten dollars, a portable luggage scale which allowed me to weigh my luggage both going over and returning. A more expensive investment was our first smart phone–we were able to get a phone with an inexpensive overseas calling plan which let me phone home every day. This was a valuable lifeline.

Learning to think in Euros was another challenge. Twenty Euros was closer to thirty dollars U.S. dollars. I traveled to Greece with my cash already exchanged into Euros to receive the best exchange rate and to be familiar with the different currency. I would be illiterate in most ways, but at home I could learn how to use Euros to pay for necessary expenses.

Departure, Wednesday, October 27, 2017
The early morning drive to XNA to catch my first flight was harrowing because we encountered backed-up traffic on the interstate. We exited, but found that we did not know the best way to get to the airport. I was stressed and it was only 6:00 am! We made it. Then I survived my first security check, but was so up-tight I forgot to turn back to wave “goodbye” to Jeanne.

With a three hour layover in Charlotte, NC it became a long day on airplanes. When Martha picked me up at the Newark airport I was exhausted and felt lousy. Martha encouraged me to nap before we ate dinner. I still did not feel well on Thursday morning. I missed my flight to Athens that day because I was in the Princeton Medical Center experiencing dehydration! My dream trip began with a nightmare. After many tests and two units of IV fluids I began to feel human again. Martha, as an experienced nurse practitioner, was a great companion during those long hours in the emergency room. The other nurses took good care of me while I was there, but I wanted to go to Crete. Was my dream over?

Jeanne strongly encouraged me to not give up. Because the women organizing the Pilgrimage had urged each of us to purchase trip insurance, I had done so. (It had taken me two days to compare policies and to check ratings of various companies.) I did have a way to continue on to Crete at minimal extra cost.
Finally, Arriving in Athens
Saturday afternoon I left Newark at sunset and arrived in Athens twelve hours later at dawn. I requested wheelchair assistance at each stop for the rest of the trip.

Five hours spent in the Athens airport went slowly although I did have a friendly visit with a young woman from Puerto Rico traveling with her father.
We each guarded the other’s luggage for time to eat and use the restroom. Because I’d done my homework, I was even able to help her with her currency exchange situation there at the airport bank. I continued reading my thick paperback Maeve Binchy novel which had helped me pass the hours on the flight across the Atlantic.

Five hours later, on to Heraklion, Crete via Aegean Airlines

I’ve talked about some of the hurdles, but I want to include some of the thrills too.
I discovered with that first liftoff from Fayetteville how I thrilled at the miracle of each take-off and every landing. I felt so very “at home” inside each of the aircraft no matter what logo was painted on the outside of the aircraft. The narrow confined space with the tiny galleys and multiple port windows had been my workplace for sixteen years and five million miles. As we flew over the Mediterranean I admired the deep blue of the sea and reviewed my training about forced landings at sea.

My home-away-from-home in the 1970s & 1980s was the Boeing 727 Stretch model which carried 200 passengers. Those narrow aisles still felt familiar after being grounded for 24 years.

Thirty-seven hours after leaving Newark, I was finally checking into the hotel in Heraklion, the capital city of Crete. As I was rolling my luggage in the front door, I met three women exiting the building. We passed each other, but I heard them question, “Could that be our missing pilgrim?” They returned, and I met the other women who were all leaving for dinner together. I was pleased to meet some of the others on the tour, but declined the invitation to dinner. I was exhausted. I’d missed the first full day of the pilgrimage, but my dream of seeing all Crete had to offer was just beginning!

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Foxglove Viewing at Cedar Hill

“View the drama of hundreds of blooming foxgloves and tour the gardens. Weed if you want! We can use the help!” This was the invitation we handed to friends a week ago to announce our Foxglove Viewing event. Since we held it on a weekday this year several of our friends couldn’t come. I’ve put together this camera tour just for them!


Partial Garden overview

After a rough ride through the creekbed that passes as our road this was the view that greeted everyone–foxgloves ranging in color from cream to magenta.

Front walk leading to our front door draped in native climber Virginia Creeper.

At the main entrance to the terraced garden this Trumpet honeysuckle (another native) beckons the hummingbirds to drink:

Near the honeysuckle on an east facing wall I’ve massed many of my house plants that enjoy fresh air of living outside all summer:

Heading toward the west side of the house we are approaching my Rusty Rustic Shade Garden:

This is the view out my bedroom window as seen from my sewing spot with the vintage Featherweight perched for all my quilting projects:

Now we are circling through the rustic Shade garden with several stops. Here you must use your imagination to see the remnant of a wood cook stove I dragged back from an abandoned site in the woods. The section of the stove bolted to the base held a two-section warming oven along the top. I’ve turned the whole unit up side down to use to display plants. Can you see it?

In the shadiest corner two elegant Yellow Lady’s Slipper, a native orchid, demand our attention. Two decades ago we found a small colony of these fabulous flowers located behind our house only to have them chewed to the ground by foraging deer. We fenced that struggling colony and watched it come back over time. Our deer fence worked. About ten years years ago we noticed a single seedling escaping out from under the fence. We transplanted it to this spot just in case the deer destroyed the original colony. As you can witness, this Lady’s Slipper has thrived under the careful watch of the painted wooden swan I found beside a dumpster in Fayetteville.

A small glass topped table and three metal chairs stand at the center of the shade garden. At the lower right is a bed of wild ginger, bloodroot, trillium, tiny crested iris, woodland phlox and christmas ferns–all native to these Ozark hills.

This metal grate was a “found object” I was thrilled to find near our turn off from the White River road to our place. Because both this grate and the glass top table are see-through they do not seem to command too much attention visually or overwhelm this small space.

As you can see here, I find myself drawn to all the shades of terra cotta whether rich fabric tones for my quilts or clay pots in shades of terra cotta which can range from pale orange to browns and even reds. Terracotta, terra cotta or terra-cotta derives from the Italian: “baked earth” and from the earlier Latin terra cocta). This is an earthenware, clay-based unglazed or glazed ceramic, where the fired body is porous.

Passing the terra cotta grouping and circling back toward the entrance we’re approaching another set of found objects. Walk closer to see the misshaped enamel basin filled with river rocks, soil and a delightful native sedum named woodland stonecrop–love the little green rose-like leaves of this plant that stays green year round and blooms in the spring. Only last week in repairing the bamboo fence that surrounds the shade garden did I find this freshly discarded antler not fifteen feet outside this shade garden. My eye decided that it would be a perfect “handle” here.

We had a picnic in the shade of a huge cedar tree in the back yard. This metal sculpture of a Great Blue Heron from my long time friend Martha has lounged there long enough to allow the Virginia Creeper to crawl upward.

You’ve missed the tour of the native plant nursery and exploring the terraces of the vegetable garden, but it was hot and sunny that day so few ventured to those gardens. Therese snapped this photo of my Rat Terrier companion, Zora, as she climbed on my lap as the day ended.

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Seeing Ourselves Reflected in our Photographs, Crete, Part 3

A collection begins when we are attracted to the same thing again and again. My first morning in Crete, I stepped out of our hotel and found a weary looking street dog curled up in a warm corner of the street-side coffee bar. I took her picture. She watched me warily. She was not interested in visiting with me. This was the first of the thousand pictures I brought home with me from two weeks on a goddess pilgrimage to Crete.

I met and photographed five other dogs. In my mind, I can also see the exuberant puppy who followed us to the labyrinth site. We were singing as we walked in a serpentine line along the deserted road overlooking the sea. The excited pup added her energy to the early evening, but I didn’t get her picture. The following morning, I returned to the labyrinth shortly after dawn to walk the spiral again, but no pup was around. I’d hoped she would join me.

Both dogs and cats have been reliable life-companions for me ever since I fell in love with a woman and her silver standard poodle named Genevieve. As a child, we did not have pets. My mother said that dealing with four kids was enough. As an adult, I’ve learned how both cats and dogs can be among the most satisfying of companions. Since falling in love in 1973, I’ve never lived without both felines and canines. Zelda, my first standard poodle is a legend. She lived to be fifteen and moved to Arkansas with us in 1987.

I’m not surprised that I sought out dog-energy when I was a stranger on the island. Dogs remind me of home and belonging. In many ways the semi-tropical October days in Crete reminded me of my girlhood in south Florida—especially the sight of the brilliant fuchsia bougainvillea vines draping the straight lines of buildings and arbors. When the vivid papery blossoms fell they sprinkled color on steps, courtyards, and doorways for days.

Bougainvilla climbs over houses and porches on most every street in Mochlos.this street scene and the closeup of the papery flowers greeted me when I first stepped out of our hotel to explore on Sunday, October 8.


After walking the labyrinth that early morning, I roamed the small fishing village of Mochlos admiring the simple houses in the soft early morning light. I was gawking at everything. Open aired tavernas lined the curve of the harbor. Everywhere there were planters brimming with plants. Often I’d see cats slinking around the base of the pots wary of me. Houses in light colors nestled nearby. I saw whitewashed houses or terra cotta buildings or houses in soft pastel tones. All these were nestled side by side along the narrow streets.

Mochlos Bay curves around the harbor lined with tavernas and a beach located down steep stone stairs.


Each structure or house had its own perfection. I was amazed how these buildings of simple lines could be so unique, and then so effectively enhanced by a bright door, or a group of five terra cotta pots, or a lush grapevine arbor over the front area. Blue doors appeared everywhere, but no house looked like a duplicate of another.

This sprawling house was the only boutique I saw in Mochlos. I found a soft white nightgown (on sale–end of the season) to keep me cool on the warm nights there.


Houses in simple shapes with carefully chosen accents, like the leaded glass arched window in the door captured my attention.


Doors have long fascinated me because they are both invitations and barriers. Many of the houses and tavernas were punctuated with blue—all different blues. Every turn brought a new sight I wanted to record with my camera. I wanted the opportunity to study that view of this house and this yard later. I wanted my friends to experience these streets with me. I found I was obsessed with photographing doors. It was the doors and windows that I had to document with the camera.

You are seeing the balcony and blue door into my room in Mochlos


This is the more formal entrance to the small hotel. Note the patio on the left where our rooms were located. Did you notice the restrained touches of blue accents?


We usually used this entrance to visit with the innkeepers. Breakfast was served on the back terrace each morning.

As I explored along the curving bay of Mochlos, I passed a storage shed located close to the waves where I admired the weathered, sun-bleached turquoise color on the lopsided doors. Another simple home captured my attention with its door and one window facing the street painted a clear deep blue. Then I came across a house fronted with a black wrought iron gate displaying the intricate curves of two large herons facing away from each other. Truly, I was sightseeing. Arched doors and arched entrances were of special interest to me because the curves softened the square buildings. Or, did the arched entrances recall the openings to sacred caves of the Great Mother?

As I roamed Mochlos the faded turquoise shed door grabbed my attention.



That day, I learned a new visual vocabulary of blues–from the palest blue shade, to turquoise, to bottle blue, to brilliant blue, to a deep green-blue. At the edge of the Mediterranean sea, in that village, we were confronted with the rolling blue sea and the overarching blue sky. Repeating the vibrant blues of their world by the ocean seemed only natural.

There were no yards to tend, just small courtyards or tiny porches. The residents were growing lush plants in shapely terra cotta pots or huge reused olive oil tins with unique logos. On that early October morning when I was roaming Mochlos, I passed a Greek woman dressed in black sweeping the sidewalk and street in front of her house. We nodded at each other and I pointed to all the large pots with overflowing growth to indicate my admiration. Pink hibiscus flowers blooming in one pot caught my eye. As girls, my sisters and I would use needle and thread to string together large double hibiscus flowers from our neighbor’s six foot tall hedge to make flower leis to drape around our necks. We soon discovered that usually the ants on the flowers left the flowers to explore us.

As our group approached a small museum in Vori, I noticed the drama of how the arched wall entrance to the courtyard framed the bright blue door seen across the courtyard. With the vibrant green fern at the base of the arch softening the lines, this became one of my favorite photos. Actually, I began to have fantasies about living in a spot where I walked through a stone arch then crossed a courtyard to approach my own house with a blue door.

The contrast of the brilliant blue with the earth tones and green ferns caught my attention.

Another sunny day while wandering along the narrow streets of Skoteino, I found an abandoned storefront with four large windows and faded blue paint that intrigued me. After carefully framing the picture, I noticed myself with my signature wide-brimmed sun hat reflected in the window. I was surprised. I’d managed to insert myself into that Cretan town on that sunny day.
Because mirrors and glass, which are smooth flat surfaces, return light in an organized fashion to produce an exact image, I could include myself in some of the photos. After I first noticed this reality, I began looking for opportunities to include my reflection. I had fun playing with this possibility. I’m still playing at this.


Our photographs are a map of our interests.
Our interests direct what we choose to photograph. Yes, it is a circular proposition. Our photographs indicate what draws our attention or sparks a memory. What images are we collecting? What appeals to our senses? What subjects propel us to seek more information? From Crete, I’ve gathered a collection of animal photos and pictures of lots of simple houses. Others of my photographs illustrate different strong attractions, curiosity, and passions.

The word “photography” comes from Greek meaning “writing with light”. In Crete, I was an illiterate visitor. I could not read or write. I knew little of the customs and history of the island. I was a tall stranger with a big hat who was interested in what I saw each day: from the solar hot water heaters on many rooftops, to the mountains strip-mined for gypsum to make sheetrock, to the thousands of brightly colored beehives that dotted mountainsides. The spotlight of my camera’s lens is a floodlight. I can write with words and ideas, and I can write with photographs. Both can be shared.

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Psarosoupa or Greek Fish Soup, All Part of the Adventure! Crete, Part 2

My first morning in Crete I was up early. I had an assignment. Since I had missed the first full day of the pilgrimage, I had not had time to collect some type of “libation” for our ritual ceremonies. We were leaving the big city of Heraklion for Zaros, a rustic mountain town at 9:30 sharp. I had to shop now. My bags were packed.

I’d called Jeanne at 6:30 AM local time (10:30 PM in Arkansas), then I hurried downstairs for my yogurt breakfast and out the front door of our small hotel into a city waking up for a busy Monday morning. I walked toward this old marble paved market street:

Here you see the narrow marble path of the old city market street where I walked that morning. It was just steps from our hotel at Kornarou Square in Heraklion, the capitol city of Crete.

I’d been told by friends at home not to go out alone in the cities, but the night before when our leader CC gave me this assignment she had assured me it would be safe. I tried to follow her directions to the small market shop, but I took a wrong turn along the narrow street lined with stalls into a busy fish market. The marble paving stones were wet as if someone had just hosed down the area. It was slick. I stepped carefully. The crisp morning air was cool. I’m sure my eyes were wide in wonder and I looked like a tourist. None of the bustling male workers paid much attention to me as I tried not to gawk at the colorful variety of fresh fish packed in ice chips.

This market looks like the one in Heraklion on the early October morning.

Not my photo, but this is what I saw that first morning in Crete as I wandered around.

A multitude of different fish to select for a truly fresh meal.


I’d never been in a real fish market.
It seems the sea was ready to feed the multitudes. But I had to remember my mission. Wine, olive oil, honey or water—any of the four would be acceptable as an offering of gratitude during our rituals. Once I found the tiny crowded shop I was looking for, I selected a small shapely bottle of local Cretan honey. Days later on our road trip I would see the hundreds of beehives used to house the bees and collect the honey.

It is not surprising that on a large island like Crete people would search the 650 miles of coastline for edible foods especially fish. Fish in Greek is psari, pronounced SAH-ree, so fish soup becomes psarisoupa, SAH-ree-soup-a. Island cultures often harvest much of their diet from the sea. Unfortunately, it seems that the Mediterranean has been over-fished since the 1960s making fish more expensive than previously. Fish markets today serve the local population only because there is no excess to export.

The Mediterranean Sea includes all of the other smaller areas like the Cretan Sea and the Libyan Sea. We visited places on both north and south parts of the island. Our two weeks focused on the central and eastern areas of Crete. Crete is 160 miles long and 37 miles wide at the widest point and only 7 miles at the narrow point. Because of all the rugged mountains running across the center of the island from west to east it is bigger than it looks! Agios Nikolaos is located along the north shore at the narrow section of the island. Can you find it?

Some families in Crete keep rabbits or chickens to serve at special dinners. Christina, a Greek woman who prepared a delicious lunch for our group later in the week, did have rabbits she was raising for her large extended family meals on Sunday. The rabbits were housed in a large hutch located at the back of her house in an attached shed. The rich manure was used on her garden which I am sure helped to account for the huge garlic bulbs braided into abundant clusters hanging above the rabbit hutch.

Fish is a delicacy I’ve long enjoyed. As a girl raised in south Florida, I sometimes enjoyed eating fish caught by my father and brother on one of their fishing days. Any fish they caught that was too small to clean and eat, my dad would bury at the base of our trees as an excellent fertilizer.

As a lacto-ovarian vegetarian for decades, I only occasionally ate fish–usually at a restaurant. However, last year when I started chemotherapy to try to shrink the tumor affecting my right arm, I was encouraged to eat more protein especially fish. Consequently, we began to sometimes buy frozen, wild caught salmon at our local food coop. After defrosting, I used olive oil in the bottom of the baking dish and add several pats of butter on top of the fillets. Sprinkled with dill and baked with thick slices of onion for a half hour at 350 degrees, it was a treat.

Until traveling in Crete, I’d not encountered any fish soup. My first taste of a rich fish soup was in a seaside taverna in the bustling city of Agios Nikolaos. That fish soup was a clear broth containing a tender white fish, onions, potatoes, carrots, and spiced with local herbs. Delicious. Enjoyable, especially when combined with the ubiquitous Greek salad of fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, olives and lots of feta cheese all grown or made on the island! I savored this soup and salad combination three times in two days because it was so satisfying. We ate out doors above the seawall with the tang of fresh salty air.

Late afternoon seaside tavernas along the waterfront in Agios Nikolaos on October 6, 2017

Since returning home I’ve discovered that there are many versions of Greek fish soup including some with a tomato base. Jeanne and I have created our own version of a fish soup enhanced with the addition of heavy whipping cream. Yogurt was a common addition to many dishes or meals in Greece, but we are trying a low carb, high fat diet with no sugar in order to starve the tumor of fuel. So, our choice is cream. We’ve used the wild caught frozen cod available at our coop in 10-ounce packages. See our recipe below. Hope you’ll experiment too.

12 c. water
celery, 3 stalks diced
onion, 1 large diced
zucchini, 2 medium diced
mushrooms, 4 large shiitake diced
garlic, 4 cloves diced
fresh parsley leaves, 3-4 stems
olive oil, 2 T
spices: salt, 1 t.
pepper, ½ t.
oregano, 1 ½ t.
turmeric, ½ t.
basil, 1 t.
thyme, 1 t.
cod, 10 oz frozen
cream, heavy whipping-pint or 16 oz (Add after other ingredients have cooked.)
possibly garnish with a feather of dill

We know sauteing the ingredients might be preferable, but we chop all and add to the water. The defrosted cod fillets will flake apart after simmering for an hour or two. Hold the cream until 15 minutes before serving and reheat. A roiling boil is not necessary. This creamy soup stores well in the refrigerator for several days and the flavor only increases.
This is a very flexible ingredient list. One could add lemon, potatoes, carrots and more.

Simplicity and fresh ingredients are the secret to Greek cooking. The island herbs add tangy flavors too.

 

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Wish it. Dream it. Do it. (Crete, part 1)

By late September I was trip-ready with comfortable clothes and sturdy shoes plus the perfect sun hat.

Wish it. Dream It. Do it. Over a year ago I found this simple sign at a thrift store. At home I placed it on the huge vintage rolltop desk where my computer lives. Because it’s a small room, I see those encouraging words many times every day. Possibly I’ve seen that simple lettering over 1,000 times. Is this where the outrageous idea of flying to Greece for a Goddess Pilgrimage began?

I’ve not been on an airplane for 24 years. I flew over 5 million miles during my 16 years working from 1969 to 1985 as a flight attendant for TWA. I’m quite comfortable on planes. For financial and environmental reasons I have avoided airplanes. I have deep roots on this land we call Cedar Hill located in Madison County, Arkansas. Jeanne and I built our own house here in the mid 1980s and have surrounded it with several gardens which help feed us. We are the caretakers of many acres of hardwood forest.

Perhaps this journey actually began in 1978 when I was one of the five hundred women who attended the Great Goddess Re-Emerging Conference in Santa Cruz, CA. Carol Christ, feminist author and scholar, was the keynote speaker. Ever since that conference, I’ve been quoting the section of her keynote address about how we cannot simply reject a symbol system, but must replace it with a new symbol system! Women need positive images of the female divine to counteract the misogyny of the patriarchy we all swim in every day. Women are hungry for a women honoring society instead of the misogyny and casual daily degradations women and girls experience.

I celebrated my 72nd birthday on August 28th and I’m feeling good. In January, 2017 I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer and began treatment. I believe I am feeling good because of good support from those close to me and because I found a hands-on healer who is part of my team of caregivers. A week before my birthday I learned about this Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete where an ancient culture of women honoring, peaceful, artistic people thrived. A place I would have like to have lived!

I discovereed that the keynote speaker I’d been quoting, Carol Christ, was one of the Co-Directors of this goddess tour. After I studied the packed two-week itinerary, I knew I want to experience the pilgrimage while I felt this good. Jeanne opted to not go at this time. The small group of women would explore the archeological remains of the ancient woman-centered world, visit museums, explore caves, climb to hilltop shrines, perform rituals, and swim in the Mediterranean. This sounded like a trip of a lifetime for me!

I had seven weeks to get my passport and to prepare. I pulled money from my retirement fund to afford to go to Crete—a big decision. Jeanne jokes that it became a full-time job to get ready. From acquiring the Greek currency of Euros to choosing the perfect sun hat, I was busy. Learning about the complicated TSA airport regulations was stressful. Packing clothes for hot sunny days and cool mountain evenings within my limit of 50 pounds of luggage was an ongoing challenge. I’ve never been one to pack light and I was certain I’d find things to bring home with me as mementos.

Discovering the right hat was the fun part. We went to a fancy hat shop in Eureka Springs to see what they offered. I tried on at least twenty-five hats before I found the perfect companion to see me through those hot sunny days. I fell in love with the hat you will see me wearing in many of the photos. I was able to fold it flat for packing and it still looked good. And it had a strong chin strap to keep it on my head on windy mountain tops. With my hair thinning hair (chemo induced?), my hat has been a welcome security blanket.

Skoteino cave, one of the ritual sites we would explore has been used to honor the earth goddess for at least 4,000 years including the present day.

I managed to transport myself from my everyday world that day in late August. My wish to explore the ancient goddess civilization which flourished on Crete was deep and strong. This dream was not a new dream, but it was a bold adventure. Flying on my own to a country where I would be illiterate (since I spoke no Greek) required a stubborn desire. My belief in my creative self and my trust in traveling with feminist women convinced me I could do this. I do want to acknowledge how important the support I received from Jeanne and our friend Martha was in making this journey.

Do you have a wish? Or a dream? What is preventing you from doing it? Life is short!

I’ll continue to share my explorations on Crete here–including many photos of people, places, animals and things like our modified recipe for Greek fish soup, also called psarosoupa

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Color in my Garden

The bright fuschia color of a rambling bouganvilla greets me each time I glance out the window over my bed. The bright fuschia color of a rambling bouganvilla greets me each time I glance out the window over my bed.

Spring has slipped away into summer here at Cedar Hill! We have dealt with multiple flooding events and more rain for early summer than we could have imagined. The county has not fixed the road washed out by the flooding except to reinforce the stone and mud damn we and our neighbors put together months ago. Driving in and out to the highway is still hazardous. All this is part of my lack of posts, but here I am. In the past several months I have regained much of the use of my right arm–we have even been able to take out our kayaks to explore Lincoln Lake once again.

All the rain and my limited use of my arm has resulted in an overwhelming supply of weeds in all our gardens and in the nursery of Ozark Native Plants!!! Several friends have come and helped us weed–thank you, you know who you are. I was quite discouraged every time I walked outside. Our lush plantings were now overgrown with undesired additions.

Then I decided to treat the situation like a quilter–I would do a little bit every day. I’d think of it as a block project that would add up to a finished quilt top. Deciding to start weeding on the areas I most often saw or visited was also part of my strategy. I started on my Rusty, Rustic shade garden where you saw the bright fuschia flowers above. This garden is my shady retreat located outside my bedroom window. That tropical bouganvilla plant reminds me of my girlhood growing up in south Florida. This plant lives inside with me all winter in order to brighten my shade garden in the summer.

With all the shades of green I depend on the bright white clusters of hydrangea to brighten the back edge. The accents of blue ceramic planters provide an unexpected note. The small glass topped table doesn’t demand much visual attention, but offers a place to read or snack or visit.

Cleome plants love it hot and dry. These plants volunteered outside the 4' x 9' window on the south side of our house.

Cleome plants love it hot and dry. These plants volunteered outside the 4′ x 9′ window on the south side of our house.

Next I shifted my attention to the area outside the front window and near our front door. This area, too, is quite shady, but these cleome plants self seeded here this year and now grace the area with tall stalks and fountain of flowers ranging in color from white to pink to purple. Without our hardwood mulch I would not be able to keep the weeds in check once I have cleared a section.

Last evening I was weeding out front at dusk even though this can be risky because dusk is when the copperhead snakes appear in the cooler air to hunt for their dinner. I was working near another clump of cleome and first heard, then saw, the fluttering bodies of several hummingbird moths. Each is equipped with a long beak to explore the beckoning cleome flowers. I stopped focusing of weed removal and stared at these amazing creatures seeking their own nourishment. These small brown moths bring their own excitement to my garden. Not colorful, but full of life energy. The lust for life flows through nature including ourselves. Color adds to our pleasure, but is only one segment of our enjoyment of our surroundings.

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