Broken tea cups and loose leaf pekoe

Staring into the deeply etched porcelain crack of a dainty little tea cup, I carefully follow the zig zagging line to the invasive chip perched just so perfectly on its edge.

I ponder if I might still drink from the cup, and I could, just so as I don’t forget the break and cut my mouth in the worst formidable way.

I examined the little tea cup, it was one of my favorites, and I loved it so with its warming colors. Once there had even been a void in the cupboard, but this little cup had filled the void in just the way that the emptiness before, wasn’t so painfully obvious.

It’s true, this one little cup wasn’t a part of a set, nor did it have the same likeness as all the others, but nevertheless, I believed it was stronger than it was. I even thought it would last for a very long time, if not possibly forever.

I realize now, I misjudged this little cup. I mistook it for fine China, whereas it was merely cheap porcelain, and, although it’s monetary value doesn’t change the fact that I loved it so, it simply is the product of its making.

I could most certainly glue the little fragmented piece of cup into the chipped break of the porcelain, but the break would always be there, reminding me that it wasn’t quite the cup I thought it to be.

I could equally push the little cup to the back of the cabinet, but what would that do for me, I have to wonder. I ask myself if it would only keep the space or would it find its way back to the front, being that it has none of the same elements as its cabinet mates?

I suppose stranger things are fiction and I have never doubted the power of the little train that could, but it must first want to be as the others before it can ever try to be. I think if it is without cause or desire then the little cup is nothing more than wasted space and although it fills a physical void, it can not change that the void still exists rather it sits in its space or not.

Perhaps greif is the best way to fill an empty space than to replace it with something of an imposter, faking it’s way into my mind, daring me to think it was just as grand as the Prince Albert’s it resides next to. Perhaps, I should have accepted the empty space, and then, maybe.. Just maybe, it would bring the one that had been stolen back to it’s place.

However, it is also fair to understand that the stolen cup, long gone now, shall never return as it was just as the chipped cup will never be as it was either.

I don’t think I have the heart to toss the little cup just yet, it is true that I love it, but I don’t think I’ll mend it either. Instead, I will wait.

If it so chooses to wish hard upon a star, then it might find out what wish was granted to a little wooden boy who wished to be real. Perhaps the little cup will wish for the same thing, but I know that it mostly will think a star is too far to wish on.

It is with great sadness as I return the little cup to its place on the shelf, but even with that sadness I will give it the chance to prove its worth, because even broken things can be fixed with desirable worth if they want to be.

Thank you for reading ♥️

A Bed of Hollies

Daphne, cranked her petaled head over to Diedra and whispered curiously, “So, I just have to ask, but do you think she’s a witch?”

Big ears from below Daphne called out, “Who!?”

Diedra sighed, “Good heavens Dharma, Daphne was talkin to me, but if you must know, I presume she means her” Diedra said pointing a bright yellow petal towards the woman in the yard watering.

“Well, do you?” Daphne asked again

Deidra rolled her eyes to Daphne, “Darling, of course she is. How else could we possibly be talking right now?”

Daphne winked, “I thought so, I just thought I would see if you all had been inclined to notice.”

Dharma snickered, “Now Daphne, I just can’t sit here in this dastardly heat, wilting as I am, and listen to such nonsense. I just know with all of my pink peteled self, there is no way you would have asked Deidra if you had known the awnser in the first place, And, I have to say, as for myself, I am a little perplexed by the notion you didn’t know.”

Delia looked up warily, “I think it’s the heat Dear. It really does cause momentarily stupidity in some”

Giggling, Deidra flapped a petal as if to brush off the fact that Delia just mentioned Daphne might have grown daft in the blazing sun and went straight into, “Ladies, I just have to ask in my complete boredom this mundane Tuesday, has anyone heard any new gossip they might want to share? .” Diedra asked quizzically

With excitement, Diana awnsered, “I certainly do, and boy do I know it’s just gonna blow your mind. As a matter of fact, you’ll never believe it.”

“Do tell, Darling!” Delilah called from underneath Daphne.

“As it is Ladies, you know that shrub over there at bikini broads, the big one that goes by Hank, just outside that fence….well, either way, I had something itching my mind and I shouldn’t have but I just had to ask if he knew what ever could be going on behind that fence.. And you know what he said?”

Darlene shook her head, while Daphne blurted out “OH lord, what on God’s green earth did he say?”

“He said they put in a pool, but not just any pool, no no..So, let’s just start by saying, it’s about time, especially since that woman has been parading that bikini around for 15 years without even the tiniest blow up pool, but I suppose that husband of hers was slow to get the message, anyway, Hank the Shrub said that pool is one of those nudie pools. That’s why they put that wooden fortress of a wall up. “

“Nudie pool? Whatever could that be?” Daphne asked

Diedra sqweeked, “Oh for Christ sake Daph, surely you aren’t serious right now…. A nudie pool… As in that woman loses her bikini and floats around that pool like a raisen in a bowl of milk!”

Daphne cupped a petal to her mouth “Good heavens, I just can’t imagine how that poor shrub must be getti’n along. It should just be a crime, I mean, if you asked me it is. Can you imagine being forced to watch that horror show through the very cracks in the fence”

Dharma made a gagging noise, “I may be quite ill if I had to picture it, I do believe I shall pass this time sister.”

“I always knew there was something uncouth about that whole fence business, especially when that bikini broad stopped loitering in the side yard so often.” Diana said

“Just to think, we never knew such a thing existed right under our noses” Darlene said with disdain.

“Well… all I can say ladies is I am just so thankful for that tree graveyard for a barricade, otherwise we would surely have succumbed to the rust” Diana said matter of factly.

Diedra snickered at the same time Dharma laughed sarcastically.

“I would say, perhaps being planted on the other side of the house would have been better, but I truly think watching that old man mow his yard every other day would be such a bore. I mean, what is the fun in that .” Daphne said.

“I do believe, you are right” Darlene added. “Now can someone explain what in the name of Christ is that kid doing, is that skate boarding or is he researching the speed in which he will be visiting a medical professional, I swear watching that is like eating a jalapeño with gasoline on a mid August day. “

Diedra smiled, “Oh lord, here we go again.”

Thank you for reading ♥️

Hollies follies

Let’s see, there is, Daphne and Darla, Delia and Diana. Delilah and Diedra, Darlene and Dharma.

All of which are vibrant ladies with the utmost southern charm, although originally they resided along the English countryside.

Delilah would say “Why Darling, its those of us adapting the fastest, that have the most charm.”

“And, I would add, with sugar in my words and the highest integrity, what Miss Delilah says is absolutely true” Dharma quipped

“Yes dearie, it is rather true. And, if I might say, I rather like it here. There is no other place in which a dame could watch the neighbor, a D name I think… shocking, I know but even though peculiar as it is, she is all but 65 years of age wearing that skimpy bikini like an 18 year old in the front yard. ” Daphne boasted.

Diedra wasted no time chiming in, “Mmhm, that’s right”

Darlene waved a pink petal, “Ladies, ladies” she scoffed “Now, I do remember that other fellow down the way, you know the one, he drives that ridiculous barge of a truck.”

Diana squeeled in delight, “OH yes! That’s the neighbor down the street who has confused that barge for one of those toy Tonka trucks or has simply mistaken it for a tractor”

Darla snickers, “I do believe, that, is what we call a right fine Hill Billy, with those mounds of dirt he uses for a parking pad. If you couldn’t have guessed by that accord, then I highly encourage you to notice the life-sized plastic, halloween skele-a-dog perched over his drive. I am guessing he doesn’t realize the gulf is another 500 miles, due South by the looks of the large cut out boasting Salt life next to the bone dog.”

Daphne but in with a mission, “My God, I swear to the baby Jesus that I have wished that dog thing that looks like recycled garbage pails would launch itself silly in a thunderstorm, but you know as the heavens have it, that hideous thing lives on like a Celine Dion song.”

Diana sang out “or, a lambchops song… You remember the one… The song that doesn’t….”

Dharma interrupted her with a vengeance, “Now Diana, you just stop that nonsense right now, no need to punish us all night long “

“I think that’s quite true, let’s not take ourselves down that God forsaken path dear. Now, let’s get back to what we just couldn’t enjoy if we were living among an English country side”

Darlene waved her petals, “Well, I don’t know about you but I just can’t fathom their would be those weird postal clerks who can’t seem to organize themselves in a way to deliver all packages at once, let alone back their vans into trees. I mean, it’s no wonder Frank the post oak wasn’t mowed down by that rotund man with a plumber crack. I just know he has a scar. “

Daphne, “OH, you mean those jungle people, the ones from the Amazon.”

Deidra clicked her tongue, “That’s the one”

Diana smirked, “Do you think they are really from the Amazon or could it possibly be they come from that junk yard down the street, you know the one where Chevy trucks go to die and dogs find themselves chained to their side steps, what ever is that blokes name? “

“I couldn’t tell you his actual name, Mister fat asster is what I think to call him, but I prefer to be a lady and call him junkyard Dan, although, I am quite aware that isn’t his Christian name, but then again who cares.” Diedra said

Daphne laughed, “OH dearie, You said it best! Nevermore were truer words than who cares. Such the dullard that man is sporting around in a jeep like he is a woodsy fellow to then trade it for one of those loud, two wheeled horse things they call hogs.”

“Tacky” Delia said “It’s just tacky. Thank the Good lord he doesn’t live next door, at least all we have to worry about is staring at the back end of that old broads pruned up bottom, aimed to the sky like she has mistaken herself for the Greek goddess of rain”

Dharma shook her petaled head, “Now, I do believe we have spoken our days gospel. I can’t imagine the characters in the countryside being any more colorful than the likes of these bumbling donkeys. My cousin, Donna said all that ever passes her by is a heard of sheep or the occasional family on holiday. “

The Hollies all sighed in unison, shaking their beautiful little heads together.

“Well, I suppose we ladies should retire for this evening, I mean a lady sure needs her beauty sleep. Especially in this dastardly heat.” Daphne said

“Good idea Daphne, I am quite tired and I have had my eye on that Wisteria bush over there.”

The Hollies all giggled together as the last of the sun faded. Fireflies blinked their lights against the deepest shades of night as the moon rose high across the southern sky.

Thank you for reading

The Southern Oracle

Sixth painting from the series Southern Oracle
Oil on panel 24×36
Mandi Mk Fowler

I don’t exactly like to divulge the reasons or meaning behind a series or specific painting. In my opinion, I find it crippling to the viewer and diminishing to the work.

Several years ago I attended a concert for one of my most beloved female artists. I had listened, cherished and held close the lyrics close as if they were written specifically for me. I carried these musical treasures as if they had the ability to save me from every monster in the closet. It had been a long journey from the time I was 15 all the way to my 30s. In those years that music was exceptionally powerful and in some ways spiritual to me, because it was those words so eloquently written and sang with beautifully chilling vibration that literally held me through some very difficult years.

I felt this strange closeness to it, a connection. I was beyond excited to actually go see her live, let alone have some kind of deeply enlightening experience.

It definitely was, but not exactly in the way I hoped for. You see, it went wrong when she decided to explain every song she ever wrote, why and what she was going through. In those moments, it was like she had just belted me in the face while belching out everything I ever thought about those lyrical chords was all bunk.

Nothing, and I mean nothing was at all what I had believed it to be or mean. In one swift move she had completely ruined this savior I had clung to, this understanding kinship and spiritual meaning.

I learned then, that although it was interesting to know, I wished she had kept that to herself. The music was only subjective when I didn’t know anything other than what the universe wanted to say through it.

I was so upset that for awhile I put her music away and let everything she babbled about mull out of my brain. It took some time before I returned to it but when I did there were still a few songs that she had out right obliterated. I couldn’t hear anything other than her marriage dissolving or a stalking fan. Which I can assure you was never anything I heard when I had found refuge and solace in those albums.

Therefore, I choose to keep my deepest emotions, thoughts and secrets about my series or even individual paintings to myself for the sheer fact that if there is something hidden in them that’s meant just for you then I wouldn’t want to diminish that by telling you anything that might taint that view.

I have never wanted to paint anything that was merely static or white noise for a wall. In fact, I have strived hard to paint things I felt were moving or powerful. Some viewers might not experience that but they wouldn’t choose it because it matched a great set of French curtains or some HGTV make over. I wanted to create something that would speak without anyone saying a word.

I wanted them and hope they elicit a secret to be told only to you, the viewer and that somehow it has a bigger meaning than even the viewer would want to share.

Art should be loved with great conviction so that it never bores or tires. It should always speak to you.

If it doesn’t, then it’s just wall filler.

Sometimes, I like to share my direction but after that it’s up to the viewer to decide, and, I find that more prophetic than a set of tarot cards and a mystic reader.

The only thing anyone really needs to know is that every painting, no matter the subject matter, size or media has a piece of me in it.

Usually, it’s the tiniest of details, or hidden symbolism that no one knows but me, but nevertheless they are there. In some ways, I have often thought they took on a life of their own. They occasionally feel as if they breath in when I turn my back and I know without a shadow of a doubt that late at night, after the lights have been turned down I hear them talking amongst each other as if they are bestest of friends.

I suppose in some ways, they are.

Thank you for reading. ♥️