The Cloud Princess

A new custom-made book from shop no. 2.

She sits on her stool of delicate frozen dew.

Looking after the Earth's mountains and plains from high up on her perch, she works at her loom. She takes water, air, and light, teases them and cards them to form

dewdrops, warp and weft from which she creates yards and yards of her beautiful fabric--we call these cumulus, stratus, cirrus, and nimbus.

Children spend hours staring at her, begging her to stay, but she is there only long enough to swathe the skies in whites and greys so that soon it rains. The earth is fed.

Then Charlene, the Girl in the Clouds, waves goodbye, rides the winds, and is on her way.

And On the Writing Front...

The last few months, I have to admit that I've been lazy. I've not written anything really new, have just been fiddling around with stories already begun a while ago. Well, I just got a nice reminder from Life that I should start working on the writing again.

That reminder came in the form of an e-mail from The Philippine Free Press magazine's literary editor Sarge Lacuesta that I'm a finalist in this year's Philippine Free Press Literary Awards. Woohhhooo! Honestly, I'm very surprised as when I got the message that my short story "Knowledge" had been accepted for publication, all Sarge said was, "Your story is fine," which I had thought to mean, "Well I hadn't had many submissions this week so for lack of anything better I'll go ahead and print yours." Yep, I admit, I have my insecurities.

I can't be there for the awarding ceremony at the Mandarin Oriental on 27 August, but this is still something that makes me very very happy.

Teeny-tiny Things

Miniature studies: (from upper lefthand corner) pear, bluebell, apple, leaf.

Flocked

It was the annual meeting of the esteemed and unblinking White Owls, and nobody gave a hoot.

Anchors Aweigh!

Little Sailboats from Marseile, off for distant shores...

A SALE! A SALE! (or, because plush is what it's all about)

Plush is what it's all about is Shop No. 1, where I decided a while back that I'll be stocking just plushies, like dolls and soft toys, and various other softies--soft sculptures, pillows and the covers for these.

So no matter how hard it is for me to let them go, as I love the meditative quality of the time I spend putting together my soft jewelry, I'm not making fabric wrist cuffs for sale anymore. The few I have left in my shop will have to go, so I'm putting them on sale at US$19 each. Now comes the part where you allow me to be very cliché and say: Get them while you still can! Click here.

Door No. 1

Maybe it's because where I live, the locals are supposed to have such an intense sense of privacy that doors are almost always closed and windows almost always shuttered that I have a fascination with these openings into homes. I've been looking through my photo files, and realized I have loads of pictures. This is one of the very first ones I took. Knock, knock, is anybody there?

Hannah Goes Bananas

I've decided to offer custom-made fairy tales in my second shop, and this is one of my very first orders, a story made for a five-year-old girl:

Hannah was lying on the grass when a golden butterfly landed on her nose.
"Come with me, Susana," said the creature in a high squeaking voice.
"It’s Hannah," replied the little girl, jumping up to try to catch it.

Following a trail of butterfly dust, Hannah ran down the country road,
until she tripped on a piece of rock that started to move because it wasn’t
a rock it was a turtle. "Ooofff!" The reptile muttered. "You really should be
more careful, Martina." The girl said, "It’s Hannah." The turtle had already
trundled off, so she shouted after it, "My name is Hannah!"

"You’re almost too loud to eat, dear Savannah," an eagle squawked,
swooping down and grabbing her by the collar. "It’s Hannah," the girl
screeched. She was really annoyed now. Soon she was dropped
into a nest filled with hungry baby eagles. She managed to convince
them not to eat her by doing a tap dance. By the time she was done,
they had even almost gotten her name right. They were calling her Anna.

It was late afternoon when she got home. After recounting her adventure,
Hannah got licks from the dog Max, kisses from her mom, and a giant hug
from her dad. Her brothers, however, did not believe her. "Susana,
Martina, Savannah, Anna," Jack and Myles teased. "Hannah, we think
you’ve gone bananas!"

Just then a butterfly came in and a little voice squeaked,
"Come with me, Zach and Kyle!"

Mr. Stray, Won't You Stay?

My female cat Dolly has a curfew; she has to be inside the house around 7 p.m. Occasionally, she's late and I have to go call her. A couple of weeks ago, as I was walking to the gate meowling my come-Dolly meowl, I heard something meowling back quite insistently. I investigated and found the sound coming from a white male cat. As far as I can tell he's a stray living on the neighboring field. I've been feeding him ever since, and have even given him a name, Misha, thanks to advice from dinafragola. He'll sometimes let me touch him, and is now comfortable enough to go exploring in the garden and under the terrace. I think I have new cat.