By Kim Nelson, on July 29th, 2010
A CHOCOLATE DIPTYCH 
Out there in the world we encounter all shades and shapes and flavors; and the variety might be tempting if one fails to recognize the value of what‘s right here…
Right here
In my heart
I know
I have all I need.
I have you.
Deep and dark and true
Intense, complex,
Sometimes tannic, sometimes sweet,
Layered, luscious, ambrosial, complete.
Sumptuous and scrumptious,
Exceptional,
Delectable.
I take you
Into every inch of me.
~ Heaven ~
Hold on!
This passion, this obsession, this commitment to the “we “
Promises to be
Sensual, artisanal,
Synchronously bittersweet.
A love affair.
Or a box of chocolates.
*Both collages were made entirely of chocolate packaging and Sharpies©
By Kim Nelson, on July 28th, 2010
Dear Readers… Have a look, have a read, give it some thought, and then share yours. { ♥! }
~Α↔Ω~
I AM the Creator.
The Creator? He is me.
Together we developed
This form
Of divinity.
A spark of life,
The journey’s strife,
Each lesson learned therein,
Uncover beauty unrevealed
Yet nestled in the plan.
I AM divine.
I do create.
You, too, conspire with me.
Together
We
Essentially
Create Eternity.
And we’re doing a damn good job.
Creator:
- one that creates usually by bringing something new or original into being
- a person who grows or makes or invents things
- one who creates
To Create:
- To cause to exist; bring into being.
- To give rise to; produce.
- To produce through artistic or imaginative effort.
Create:
cause, lead to, hatch, occasion, give life to, install, bring about, make, form, produce, invent, develop, coin, design, initiate, generate, formulate, compose, establish, devise, originate, give birth to, spawn, dream up, appoint, make, found, concoct, set up, beget, invest, bring into being or existence…
By Kim Nelson, on July 27th, 2010
Last week I watched an oriole in the wildflower garden and tried to photograph him. The results were abyssmal. To satisfy my need for an image capturing the moment, I plucked some of the amaranth he nibbled on, pressed them and incorporated the dried blossoms into a collage.
Fun!
By Kim Nelson, on July 26th, 2010
 Love Affairs. They’ve been in my dreams, in my work, on my mind. As I’ve told you before, I love LOVE. I’m all about it. And right now, there’s so much to love. Like my garden.
Yesterday The Good Husband and I spent hours in the garden cleaning, preening, trimming and skimming. We wore our swimsuits and hopped in the pool to cool. Gentle breezes rustled mesquite beans from their branches and clouds spread themselves thinly between the bright desert sun and us. Rain would come. Lovely!
In the Mission Garden I ate several late strawberries, trimmed back the mint (I have more than a dozen varieties), and harvested a lovely cache of figs. FIGS! Now there’s a fruit that’s inspired lots of love. And is it ever revered. Historically, the fig tree’s been considered sacred in all parts of Southwestern Asia, Egypt, Greece, and Italy. And now, of course, in Tucson.
Pliny The Elder, the noted Roman writer and natural philosopher, said “Figs are restorative. They increase the strength of young people, preserve the elderly in better health and make them look younger with fewer wrinkles.”
Bring on the figs!
Figs symbolize abundance, fertility, sweetness. Like a ripe and ready, fecund woman. The most mentioned fruits in the bible, figs also played key roles in ancient tales of love and seduction. Not surprising. Figs are sexy. Consider the words used to describe figs… Fleshy, Luscious, Rosy, Satiny, Smooth, Succulent. You get the picture.
Figs. I love them. Have I made you think twice? If so, take a look at some of mine:
Inspiration:
The Fig
by Gabriela Mistral, as translated from the Spanish by Maria Jacketti
Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Do you not remember some king’s black cloak under which a redness burned?
I bloom inside myself to enjoy myself with an inward gaze, scarcely for a week.
Afterward, the satin opens generously in a great fold of Congolese laughter.
Poets have not know the color of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor.
I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow’s bouquet until covering your feet. No. I keep the flowers tied – they make me itch; the resting rose also knows this sensation.
I am also the pulp of the Rose-of-Sharon, bruised.
Allow my praise to be made: I nourished the Greeks, and they have praised me less than Juno, who gave them nothing.
By Kim Nelson, on July 25th, 2010
In The Garden…
Bright, bold blues bouncing in the breeze
  
My personal staircase disguised as rip rock
Baby, bronzing pomegranates
Basil pretending to be purely decorative
  
Grapevines flowing from olive jars
  
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