A vid from last year of duet with GameBoy and his cello teacher. The sound on this clip was compressed a bit funnily so it doesn’t exactly match the cello playing. But it’s a lovely piece of music anyways, I think. You can also get a little view into what Christmas looked like in our 650 sq ft apartment. :)
December 7, 2007
I shot the following video a few days ago and have debated since then about whether to post it. But after I saw Sara’s cat vid for today, I knew I had to share a bit of my own kitty-love with all of you!
In this clip EllyCat is playing hide-n-seek in some strips of wool roving. She is laying on her very favorite dark purple ottoman. After a few moments, Lil’ sister TobyJoy comes over to investigate.
Warning: you will hear me speaking in my special ‘kitty voice’ in this video. This is not something I usually do in front of anyone except for close friends and family….
What I like best about this clip: you can see the difference between the personalities of our two cats. Elly likes to lounge and play and is a totally kicked-back relaxed kind of girl. Toby, OTOH, is curious and composed. She likes to sit daintily upright with her tail curled over her front paws. Her petiteness (she doesn’t even weigh 5 lbs) makes her almost irresistible.
From someone who loves flowers as I do (Persisting Stars):
If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by
a flower in bloom, perhaps your soul has never been in bloom.”
~Audra Foveo ~
Being perfect artists and ingenuous poets, the Chinese have piously preserved the love and holy cult of flowers; one of the very rare and most ancient traditions which has survived their decadence.
And since flowers had to be distinguished from each other, they have attributed graceful analogies to them, dreamy images, pure and passionate names which perpetuate and harmonize in our minds the sensations of gentle charm and violent intoxication with which they inspire us. So it is that certain peonies, their favorite flower, are saluted by the Chinese, according to their form or color, by these delicious names, each an entire poem and an entire novel:
The Young Girl Who Offers Her Breasts,
or: The Water That Sleeps Beneath the Moon,
or: The Sunlight in the Forest,
or: The First Desire of the Reclining Virgin,
or: My Gown Is No Longer All White Because in Tearing It the Son of Heaven Left a Little Rosy Stain;
or, even better, this one:
I Possessed My Lover in the Garden.
~Octave Mirbeau, Torture Garden
Note: The picture above is from some lantana in my garden. I only wish I could grow peonies. Because they are poetry.