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Commissioner’s House Conspiracy

March 25, 2012 Leave a comment

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I’m starting to think there’s a conspiracy sabotaging my intentions to visit the Commissioner’s House. Every time I have the idea to visit, something happens to mess it up. Located in Dockyard, the Commissioner’s House is a bit of a drive away, and since it’s situated in the very western end of the Island, one has to be going that way on purpose.

While I was on vacation at home in December, I intended to visit the Commissioner’s House. I thought I had nothing else to do, but somehow, I managed to fill my days with other things, other places to go and tasks to be accomplished. Finally, my vacation ended and I was back to work, missing a good opportunity to visit the elusive CH.

While relatives were visiting even more recently, I took time off from work intending to end the day at (you guessed it) the Commissioner’s House. None of us had ever been there and it would have been a nice day out for all of us. I’ll skip the details but it’s safe to say, we never made it. Perhaps I should clarify that statement; I never made it. My husband took the next day off and the trio enjoyed a pleasant visit to the Maritime Museum including the Commissioner’s House. I had to hear all about it when I came home from work.

You’re probably asking, what’s the big deal? In the grand scheme of the world, not much, even I admit. Curiosity. A bit of privilege. There’s a painting, Bermuda’s story in art, by Graham Foster, that I understand from all reports, is well worth the time and gas to view. Mr. Foster’s grand mural spans 500 years of Bermuda history and 1,000 square feet in intricate detail. Something like that has to be seen with one’s own eyes to be fully appreciated. Exhibits in the museum cover history about the settlement of Bermuda, people groups, families and other chunks of information missing from our formal education. You can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from.

Today’s near miss hurt more than ever. In celebration of the African Diaspora Heritage Trail, entrance into the Maritime Museum was free. Hubby and I decided last night to make the trek today. With a beautiful day surrounding me, I made sure my chores had been completed (mostly) before packing my handbag and grabbing my camera for the long-awaited visit. We had a late start, but I was okay with that because I only wanted—needed—to see one thing, the mural on the staircase. However, by the time we arrived at the front gates of the museum, no further entries were allowed because it was deemed too close to closing time (notice how I skilfully deflect the blame away from my own tardiness?). At the gate, entrance is free, and still no mural for me.

In an effort to salvage the day, we visited Dockyard like a couple of tourists, who were enjoying the day too, by the way. The slide show is a collection of photos from today’s outing. Enjoy!

Get Out There!

March 18, 2012 Leave a comment

A beautiful day for a walk

A 70-degree March day is a terrible thing to waste. So yesterday, after church and lunch, we laced up our sneakers and joined some newly made friends for a leisurely walk through the old railway trails. Hubby and I brought our pocket-sized cameras because . . . that’s just what we do. One member of our party is studying herbs and our walk was punctuated with lessons about the healing properties of the plants that we take for granted. Hubby was brave enough to try a bite-sized Nasturtium salad, picked along the trail. We sucked on honeysuckles and heard about which plants help lower high blood pressure, heal wounds, ease “female complaints”, and ah-hem, strengthen that certain muscle so men ‘perform’ better. Move over, Viagra; this stuff grows wild and free out here!

By the time we reached the road, we could already see the blue-green ocean in the distance. I never get tired of marvelling at the ocean. When people ask me how far from the beach do you live? I am tempted to answer, “What do you mean?” or “What kind of question is that?” After all, we’re only 21 miles long and approximately 1 mile wide–at the widest point. If the surf is rough enough, I can smell it from my yard and my kitchen windows get the salt spray!

On the trail down to the beach, we got sandwiched in by two separate horseback riding groups, but with a little courtesy, there’s plenty of room for bipeds and four-legged beasts to pass. And then the ocean–showing off its blue and green, crystal clear beauty. A few people were actually in the water, but for the most part, it’s not truly beach season yet. Some residents will start flocking to the beach on the unofficial start of the season, May 24 (a public holiday), but if anyone is still like me and the old timers, we won’t consider going to the beach for swimming “until the sun crosses the line”, after June 21. How’s that for a crazy, local tradition? By then the heat is driving me either to stay indoors where the fan keeps me cool, or to the ocean for temporary, wet relief.
A small group of people were relaxing after SUP’ing. Okay, so this one is new on me. I had to ask the guy who came to retrieve his curious Parson Russell/terrier mix what it’s about. Stand up paddle surfing (SUP) is a sport I knew nothing of and had no problem peppering him with questions, not that I’m likely to ever try it. Apparently, yesterday was a perfect day for it, because the waters on the South Shore were calm. There’s a picture of their boards somewhere in the collage. Perhaps sometime I’ll see them in action.

Further down the beach things got a bit surreal, due to the rock and sand formations that took on eerie shapes after erosion caused by hurricane damage, some of which still remained as gigantic rubble. The environment looked foreign, especially the portion of the beach where the Government is fortifying the cliff face with a massive stone wall. The scenery reminded me of the last scene of “The Planet of the Apes”—you know, the first one, way back when Charlton Heston finds the Statue of Liberty lying on its side in post-apocalyptic Earth.

By this time, I started to think about what would have been really great on this walk—water! We still have our “Mount Kilimanjaro” to face, a steep hill that’s torturous to walk but offers a wonderful overland view of the area at the top. When we reached top, I was too proud to admit I was exhausted, but if that “Attack Cat” a sign warned of had shown up, I would have been a goner.

Loquats

Today’s less strenuous activities include sitting in the back yard sorting through yesterday’s pictures for the collage (above) and listening to the songs of nature. Birds that sing, bees that buzz and the boys in the trees picking loquats. The trees are bursting with the oval-shaped fruit waiting to be picked and enjoyed. Unfortunately, a perfect bunch is just above my head—far out of reach. Too bad. I’ll let the birds have them.

The Joy of Being [Insert Your Name]

March 11, 2012 4 comments

When I photographed this sculpture in London a couple of years ago, I admit I knew nothing about the artist or his abstract, surrealist work. I snapped the picture because it was interesting, and I was excited about my visit to London—one of the rock stars of cities, as far as I am concerned. The sculpture matched the mood of the moment. Later, I came stumbled upon this quotation that hints how this man could create such bold, artistic images:

“Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy—the joy of being Salvador Dali—and I ask myself in rapture: What wonderful thing this Salvadore Dali is going to accomplish today?”

I listen to his word choices—experience, exquisite joy, joy of being, rapture, wonderful, accomplish. Then I ask myself, when was the last time I woke up in that frame of mind? Exquisite rapture, joy—these are the expressions of appreciating one’s own beauty and potential. Accomplish. Dali leaves nothing to chance but drives the outcome personally. He intends to be involved.

These words encourage me to approach each day with the confidence that I have something to offer: carpe diem! I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Each morning, let’s embrace the hours ahead with bold confidence, knowing each of us posesses special gifts that the world needs. Even now, all of my knowledge of Salvador Dali could could fit in the eye of a needle with room to spare, but there’s exquisite joy in my life–the joy of being me.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Distorted

March 3, 2012 5 comments


Even if you don’t know the significance of the picture at the time, take it. You may never pass by that way again, and the opportunity will be lost. When you take it, however, you may end up with . . . “Distorted”. Salvadore Dali, taken in London.