Nothing, tra la la?
Jun. 8th, 2008 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jacktellsliesWearing as little as possible save the sunscreen on our tattoos and the rest of our skin, we filled jug after jug with water and a rather potent lemonade-based cocktail of my own devising. Nearly drunk and still drinking, we boarded a train in hopes of escaping some of the overwhelming heat of the city.
I spent the night with friends in a grotto under the stars I'd forgotten. We swam in well water while a pretty boy played the fiddle for us and two of the girls danced, their skin shining and indistinct in the grass. It was bloody freezing, but I know a holy well when I see one. Beth and I kissed and jumped in together, holding hands and screaming at the cold.
The house is a wonder: some particularly earthy families can fill their homes in such a way that it cannot be cluttered, really, only rather well textured. No object is truly out of place, at worst seeming a particularly bold variation on a theme. (Immense collections of books help, I find.) If things get lost or swallowed, it is only a tribute taken by the place, a gift you're certain you owed it. There are a dozen Green Men winking in the kitchen, masks hanging in the trees outside, hats and art and computers and musical instruments everywhere, interesting little bugs climbing about freely. Every sink is a shrine, the surface around it surrounded with herbs, salts, and little mysteries in jars. That place is good for the soul. And they feed you!
The couple who own the house in question required fruit for a celebration. Mrs. W. sent her husband to fetch a flat of blueberries. Not quite understanding, he returned, not with a small basket, but with four-hundred dollars worth of blueberries and blackberries. Ha! Oops? Some of them made their way into a gigantic bowl, and we ate them by the fistful all night long. It felt as if a goblin market had come to town. Surely I'll never eat such fruit in such quantities again, although I'm certain I'll always long for it.
I spent the night with friends in a grotto under the stars I'd forgotten. We swam in well water while a pretty boy played the fiddle for us and two of the girls danced, their skin shining and indistinct in the grass. It was bloody freezing, but I know a holy well when I see one. Beth and I kissed and jumped in together, holding hands and screaming at the cold.
The house is a wonder: some particularly earthy families can fill their homes in such a way that it cannot be cluttered, really, only rather well textured. No object is truly out of place, at worst seeming a particularly bold variation on a theme. (Immense collections of books help, I find.) If things get lost or swallowed, it is only a tribute taken by the place, a gift you're certain you owed it. There are a dozen Green Men winking in the kitchen, masks hanging in the trees outside, hats and art and computers and musical instruments everywhere, interesting little bugs climbing about freely. Every sink is a shrine, the surface around it surrounded with herbs, salts, and little mysteries in jars. That place is good for the soul. And they feed you!
The couple who own the house in question required fruit for a celebration. Mrs. W. sent her husband to fetch a flat of blueberries. Not quite understanding, he returned, not with a small basket, but with four-hundred dollars worth of blueberries and blackberries. Ha! Oops? Some of them made their way into a gigantic bowl, and we ate them by the fistful all night long. It felt as if a goblin market had come to town. Surely I'll never eat such fruit in such quantities again, although I'm certain I'll always long for it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 02:12 am (UTC)"it cannot be cluttered, really, only rather well textured"
*admires perfectly expressive expression*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 05:41 am (UTC)*tips hat* Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 06:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 04:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 04:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 05:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-10 10:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 02:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 05:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 04:09 am (UTC)If only someone were to describe my home in these terms *sigh* Now at least I believe I have a goal to work toward. I already have the books. The wood burning stove is the shrine. Artwork hung on the walls in thorough disregard for anything other than enough space to hang the item.
"...If things get lost or swallowed, it is only a tribute taken by the place, a gift you're certain you owed it."
Sometimes if you ask nicely, you'll get it back. Or something you forgot you even had will be returned instead.
Haha! I haven't thought of the Goblin Market in ages, and if I could reach the poetry section of my bookcase, I'd grab my slim volume of Rossetti and read it again. I'll have to settle for the online version.
Thank you for sharing your magical weekend.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 05:38 am (UTC)It's true! They're constantly giving things away, so it feels like a perfectly even trade.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 04:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 04:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 05:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-10 10:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-09 10:45 pm (UTC)I once ate nearly five pounds of raspberries I had picked myself (for $5 a pound) in an evening.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-10 10:47 am (UTC)Speaking of which: I'd completely forgotten that working on an organic farm in exchange for room and board while I'm traveling was an option. Come live in the UK and play in the dirt with me before going to Pittsburgh?