blissed out on uncluttered, simple, composition and blocks of color. it’s where my camera eye travels to again and again.
after my morning outings i come home and do what i do best. laze about. being in this casita that smells of wood and roasting coffee beans is like living inside a storybook. my wing of the hacienda.
i’ve been reading the travel journal written by La Duena’s great great grandmother, martha. Of a trip she took to spain with her 21 year old granddaughter on the cusp of WW1. it is beautifully written. reflections on the passage of time, continuity, aging, Spanish painters, the perils of train travel. simply fantastic!
sadly, i finished last night. sitting here in a big enveloping chair, my wool shawl over my lap, reading parts out loud.
we have been eating our breakfast inside the last few mornings because it has been cool. the dining room is all massive wood furniture, giant mantle draped with pine boughs, lit with hanging clay pots that have tiny cut-outs so the light fans out like stars on the ceiling, rich carpets over the stone floor, lovely embroidered and woven tablecloths and napkins. has a very spanish colonial hacienda feel to it. just la duena and i at the long wooden table. eating and chatting.
naturally, my imagination is powerless to resist the urge to run away with itself on such a dramatic stage.
found A SPANISH LOVER on a well-stocked bookcase in the casita this morning and started reading.
oh the luxury of putting down one story and walking into another!
it is nearly dusk and i’m setting off on another stroll.
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