Shawls

Do you love shawls, 

or ever wear them?  

Shawls, 'estolas', 'mantones' (in Spn.)... I love them all, and wear them all the time, for any occasion, and on every season.  Even, during our hot summer days...  

Shawls are one of the timeless emblems of Spanish feminine style... I love the silken ones, long-tasseled, and flower-embroidered. But I love them all the same. This one below is one of my summer favorites. The same I'm wearing on the photograph above... in black, white and cream. I sometimes use my shawls as part of my decorating style in our home, thrown casually over a chair or bed...

Sometimes, I have even use wide, long scarves as shawls over my shoulders.  As the one you see here in this following photograph... this scarf is one of my favorite autumn and mild winter 'shawls' ever. I love its beautiful designs, and golden threads...   

I look for my shawls everywhere. Second hand stores are usually one of my favorite places to surprise me with some beautiful ones. Turns out you’re more likely to stumble upon a valuable vintage piece in those crowded racks full of old, plain scarves than in any other place... this one here is one of my last acquisitions...

I love the rich, deep color, and it goes so well with that dress!

If I don't use them on me, they will surely end up decorating a table in my house or any other piece of furniture... like here:  Covering a table in my gypsy room...

Or over a door... like here, decorating the entrance of our gypsy caravan.  

Thrown over a large mirror as part of the decoration...

Even our windows get to wear a shawl...

Here's another shawl on another window... hehe.  

I know, I'm crazy!

Like the fan and castanets, the shawl is part of the traditional image of flamenco dancers or sultry Spanish beauties in old movies... yet the shawl is far from being just folklore.  It remains one of the most common accessories of Spanish women to this day...

If you happen to find a pretty shawl in your roundabouts through thrift stores and second hand stores, would you save them for me?  ;))

Ah yes, you can give them to me whenever I visit you in your gardens on those special, magical occasions when the moon is round and full and we're allow to become Animagi... which, if you don't know it, according to the Hogwarts teachers in Hogwarts Castle, where by the way, I happened to befriend Madam Poppy Pomfrey many, many moons ago, means to morph into the form of one specific animal.  One determined by your personality and inner traits.  Like what happened with Professor Minerva McGonagall, as you see here.... ;)

Witches were said to take the form of a cat nine times, but don't worry I would not come to you as a cat. What about an owl? Yes yes... a white owl!  Meet me in the garden, then!  And don't forget the shawls!  ;) ;)

Before I go, I have to share with you this old, old photograph I found on the Internet the other day that has so enchanted me ever since... of these two unidentified women in a garden wearing lovely long dresses and lovely shawls.  Oh how I want to be there!... live in that era... or at least be able to clad myself in those awesome, awesome dresses and long shawls...

   

I hope you are having a wonderful, magical Saturday, wherever you are!

Click HERE if you'd like to see my favorite new shawl right now! ;) So pretty! And perfect colors for the fall! ;)

August

On my roaming through Blogland lately, I've been listening to people complain about our relentless, beautiful days of summer.  People already envisioning winter, and a land blanketed in wooly white.  One particular comment got my attention in a strange, sad way.  The woman wrote:  "OHMYGOSH. I HATE THESE HORRIBLE HOT SUMMER DAYS."   She was actually screaming in all caps.  But really....

My soul is a Monarch fluttering under the summer, cobalt skies of August...

And how very lovely the thought of August is in the depth of winter, and how our hearts yearn then for its glories... how a single prayer would pierce through the ices in a powerful, evocative yearning:

"O Spirit of the Summertime, 

bring back the roses to the dells; 

the swallow from her distant clime, 

the honey-bee from drowsy cells.  

Bring back the friendship of the sun; 

the gilded evenings, calm and late, 

when merry children homeward run, 

and peeping stars bid lovers wait... 

bring back the singing; 

and the scent of meadowlands at dewy prime... 

Oh, bring again my heart's content, 

thou Spirit of the Summertime!"

 (William Allingham).  

I just so love summer.  And I'm already feeling nostalgic about having to see it go soon...

The other evening I wanted to go outside before nightfall,   

"Part of a moon was falling down the west,

Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.

Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw it

And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand

Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,

Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves..."

(Robert Frost)

The little white cottage basked in such glorious pink glow... it swelled the house, and surrounding gardens in magical flurries of wonderment, and glories... I went back and forth around the outsides taking mental pictures of all I saw, and heard and felt...  enchanted by it all, and truly thankful. 

A little white cottage... 

"Where flowers grow and sway
And where dew kisses their satin cheeks
Tall trees provide shade in the hot summertime
And breezes rustle the forest leaves.

Stars twinkle and wink at Night
Happily so merry and gay
And the Moon watches happily o'er
This beautiful enchanted place.

Coblestones provide such a lovely walkway
Leading to the pretty cottage
Where tall rosebushes climb
The trellis where at Night their buds unfurl."

(Unknown)

Purple roses glowed under the light of lanterns, wild and charmed... 

Windows in the little white cottage shimmered, and twinkled, enticing me to the glow and warmth inside...  

Then... little was visible but the hints of the dusky quiet light of the solar paths lights, overflowing through their casements into the dark world without...

The little white cottage in the woods snuggled in the arms of the evening, and remained quiet under the dusky sky...  

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive...

Oh, the summer night, 

Has a smile of light, 

And she sits on a sapphire throne.

(Bryan Procter)

Do you love summer?

My days in our little white cottage

A luscious blend of white buds and fern leaves are woven together to create a cool splash, while mimosa blossom and purple tulips are uncovered.  Lush passion flower, beach wood and golden amber close this fragrance leaving you feeling warm and refreshed:  "Sungari"... that's my new favorite 'Eau De Parfum' lately.  

"On a wintry October night a mysterious letter was left at the base of the angel monument which overlooks the grave of Andrea Parkin, the only child of David and Mary Anne Parkin"...  And this the book I'm reading right now: "The Letter", from Richard Paul Evans, author of The Christmas Box.  

“I have come to believe that we do not walk alone in this life. There are others, fellow sojourners, whose journeys are interwoven with ours in seemingly random patterns, yet, in the end, have been carefully placed to reveal a remarkable tapestry. I believe God is the weaver at that loom.” (Richard Paul Evans)  I am enjoying reading this book thus far, and it is a pleasure whenever I find a book and like it from its beginning as my soul identifies with it, which, truth be told it's something that doesn't happen easily.  I've got to love a book from its very beginnings, or else I'd not read it.

The scent wafting these days from the little lamp that also warms and melts wax tarts and release fragranced scents into our little white cottage is 'white honeysuckle'.  I love candle warmer lamps.  I keep mine in a corner of my little white kitchen, and except when we're not home, leave it on night and day everyday.  I love the soft glow emanating from it that bathes the kitchen and hallway in soft hushes of light, particularly on those last hours of day and night.  I find it truly enchanting. 

There's a type of a blue-winged fairy-insect dweller of the pond that have me most intrigued with wonder and awe.  What are they... insect, fairy?  I have to ask myself.  For I've never seen such a lovelier creature of the summer days.  Dozen, if not more of these insects can be found hovering over the pond in a magical fluttering of blue-cobalt wings.  They seem to be particularly fond of waters; almost sweeping atop it, as if taunting the fishes, and I have observed too, how they seem to favor the large leaves of the Elephant Ears surrounding the pond, and how, on occasions, they would splatter water with flimsy blue wings on themselves, just as birds do when at the birdbaths. 

They are enchanting, lovely creatures that bring to mind wispy Tinkerbelles and winged Thumbelinas.  How fascinating it is to me to stand still on the bridge that crosses the pond and just be... just watch, and marvel and wonder.  Sometimes, when I sit under the umbrella these creatures would whoosh by in front of me almost teasingly, as if enticing me to follow them into the woods? Fairies.  They must be fairies in disguise.   

And there, in the pond, there also dwell a most interesting creature of all... a frog, a "wood frog" I discovered, whose call is much like the calls of geese's, or the bark of dogs.  Sometimes, the sound would bring to mind the cloaking of chicken, or a faraway dog who it really is too close.  The first time I heard that strange sound I could not put a name to it, or figure out from what animal's throat it was coming...  evenings, when the world slows down enough to listen to the falling dusk, the songs of the wood frog, along with the song of the other frogs, can transport you to another world.  

From up the hill across from our little white cottage comes the soft and throaty cooing sound of pigeons... I imagine they live and nest on somebody's roofs and eaves. But I cannot tell exactly where.  There's a place, before getting on the freeway, where I see them all the time, sometimes even in the middle of the road foraging for scraps. I love listening to their songs, and although I'm somewhat doubtful on whether I want them in my garden, I still do find their music coming from far away, as soothing and enthralling as it truly is.

I'm spending my mornings in the garden again. The downpours of the last few days have refreshed the earth, and temperatures have become somewhat mellow, or mellower, allowing me to venture out again.  I hear the woods singing its mysterious songs, and I hear and see shaggy green crowns of trees swaying high up with refreshing breezes, and I want to believe that somewhere among the privet I see Khal Drogo walking in the woods.  Beautiful, and daunting as Daenerys Targaryen's own dragons.

That's just how enchanting my little world is... but, is it really the place?  I sometimes have to wonder about that.  I once read that the real magic resides within ourselves, rather that on the outside...  I like how the poet puts it:

For some people, there is nothing special in the world. Nothing magic. Just physics.  For others, magic is everywhere.  Which means that magic must have come from within us...

So there you have it... look around you and if you can't find anything magical, then look again... and again, until you find it! 

"Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live." Nora Roberts, Charmed.

Do tell me something magical... something about your garden, your cottage, your life.  I love to read those comments you leave for me that have to do with those simple occurrences transpiring in your life, seem through your own magical eyes, and soul...

Much love and blessings to you all!

Summer glories

These are the glories of summer... 

these are the days I dream of and wait for...

...A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in... what more could she ask? A few flowers at her feet and above her, the stars.

I walk in this precious garden of mine, I sing and give thanks, I lift up my eyes to the heavens and think I can fly.  Our humble outsides have grown into a lovely, magical place, and I cannot be any more enamoured, more thankful and in total awe.  The summer days of the luscious south have won my heart.

...and behind the immensity of the woods and lushness of trees that are our fortress around our little white cottage... everywhere I look I see beauty beyond my eyes. My skin prickles, and I get goosebumps all over whenever I'm out here...

I can hardly believe this is the same place we moved to barely two years ago, I cannot!  How gracious, and kind has the grand Owner of Nature been to me in the myriads of flowers and shrubs and bulbs and birds.  My heart sings Him praises of thankfulness and admiration.

A picture of grace and glory against the hot cobalt of the summer sky.

I've been deadheading the roses this morning, which are again in glorious blooms, and have been removing some of the morning glories that, left alone, have taken over the garden more than I like.

...and I have been bringing in generous treasures from the bountiful garden to embellish our little white cottage with.

I so love Crepe Myrtles... their multicolored blooms never cease to amaze me... how can the same tree gift its blooms in so many different colors, it is beyond reasoning to me...

The tiny purplish spirals of glories you see in my bouquets are the flowers of the Liriope Muscari, or Lilyturf that grow here everywhere.  I love these perennials that are always so true and reliable to the southern gardeners.  When we moved to our little white cottage I discovered two of these plants tucked away under all the wildflowers and weeds that grow around here.  From them I made several more plants, and kept dividing them every spring... now they grow everywhere... 

These are the Paradise roses, I so love.  Their colors are enchanting.

I hope this doesn't come to you as one long, boring post, but thinking that it would had been the purest selfishness to enjoy all these glories by myself when neither you, nor you or you were with me, I tried to add as many images as I could.  So alas, there you have it!  I hope you enjoyed this little trip around my gardens... be blessed, wherever you are!  Oh, and I'm leaving this little video I posted on Instagram for you, in case you haven't seen it yet.  Butterflies, birds and bees and every other winged creature have found a happy habitat here, and I welcome them all, good and bad.  Enjoy!

A video posted by @gypsycielo on Aug 6, 2016 at 3:50pm PDT

Dreaming of winter on a summer's day

We are in the midst of summer, days are hot, and trees bend softy beneath the weight of fruits, and maybe... maybe it is because I've been away from our little white cottage for an entire week and I'm missing it, or maybe it is because of all of the above put together, why I woke up today thinking of winter?  And I'm already envisioning those colorful days of autumn in my woods, the softest of evening lights in the garden, the crimsoned shades on now green boughs, and the warmth of a home that's cozy with the aromas of pumpkin spices, apples, cinnamon and clove.

For whatever inexplicable reason I've always felt that winter calls for colorful bohemians rooms, shawls with long fringes and mad hair.

The mad hair part of the deal is something I wear on an everyday basis, regardless the season, and so are the shawls.  That's just who I am.  But the bohemian style rooms is something I must work on, if I really want to achieve that look, or style.  I am dreaming with this...

And this...

And I'm definitely getting a mosquito net canopy, and more fairy lights to decorate my bohemian room... 

I am obsessed with this bedroom's decor on the following photograph...
The more I look at it, the more I want to be there...

So I am dreaming, and planning what I want to do...
If you dream, don't forget to plan...
That's just how you make your dreams come true...

I have a particularly special room in our little white cottage where I usually go to when I'm yearning for a change.  The guess room.  Because this bedroom is empty for most of the entire year, except on special occasions, it is my most personal space and favorite room, where I let my imagination loose (wait... isn't my imagination always loose? ), and my hair down sorts of speak. This room has a wonderful window overlooking the garden throughout every season.  So when my bohemian soul is just dying to flaunt itself, this bedroom is a great place to start.  It is now styled in Shabby Chic, but not for long.  Comes winter, and my bohemian soul will take over...

I definitely want a bohemian room to spend my winter days in...
Goodbye again, Shabby Chic!

I am usually not restricted by other people’s opinions. So there are no trends in my style, or decor.  The bohemian style is very much dependent on the individual.  It is witty, whimsical and highly reflective of the mind and lifestyle of the person who embraces it.  And I love it.  So I'll say, bring in whatever makes your bohemian soul happy, and have fun.  That's my motto. In the same way that there will never be another you, one thing is for sure: You will never see another bedroom quite like yours.

What's your favorite style when decorating your home?
Do share!