The pruning hook was once a sword, a weapon of not so mass destruction, and has fallen on hard times.  Vineyards, fruit trees, berry bushes and tomatoes still benefit from pruning.  The yellow fields of Read More …

In planted gardens there tends to be an obsessive attention to orderliness. Rows,edges,borders,weeds,wilted blooms and spectrum.  The gardens at Keukenhof provided a morning of disorganized delight in a playground of rigid possibility. Tulips,whether seen in Read More …

Between Fall and Spring there is a winter.  Winter for novelists has been about discontent and sleep.  Winter for weather has been cold in the north, hot in the south.  Winter in biology has been Read More …

In one of the many recaptured Dutch polders there is emerging a growing-exhibit called Floriade.  The acres of land created ex nhilo, almost God-like exposed a canvas of opportunity.  The images hint at possibility, the scale Read More …

The creation of the golden bycycle from a single strand of wire foreshadows the hope that emerges from a monument of the broken and lost– two wheelers scattered on the streets and in the canals Read More …

The canal side houses frame the waterways of central Amsterdam. And are a background to memory, steps, colours and selfies.  Our children are not impressed with our techno image skills! Payback is capturing their pleasure Read More …

Preserved in a casting set in water-worn boulders are the sillouhettes of Taylor and Burton.  Most of us do not live such storied lives to attract drive-by visitors to hotels we slept in.  The bridges Read More …

Sparkling sprinkles of light dance in the bars of the Romantic Zone.  The gaiety of colour, light and people highlight a community living unshackled by codes and codified laws.  The sun sets and the day Read More …

The sun dried river bed witnesses to rains gone by.  The sun dancing on the bay reflects warmth, promises visitors, evaporates rain and schedules tides. The integration of water and sun has created fun and Read More …

Hidden by nature’s wardrobe the Iguana treads from stones to tidal morsels. There an insect.  A warm stone.  No one can even see me here. The heart launches from the landscape between two dancing fountains. Read More …