Freda's Girl

Summer's turning to autumn ever so slowly. I'm back in the South, and should be glad, but right now my life has turned a corner, and I would just prefer to turn back the clock, or hide somewhere dark and quiet. My dear friend is gone and I will never ever see her again.
Most of us have friends we've had forever, or at least since our schooldays. That's quite common and we never question it. To find a new friend when we're already grown up is rare. Of course we have aquaintances, and friends to have a nice time with, and that's perfectly fine. But then there comes that person that makes you think " Ah, there you are, my friend,I didn't know, but I think I might have been missing you for some time now".
 Karen was that friend in my world, and I am so very happy we had what short time we did before her life ended. I will not write about the violence of the end, or the past week of sorrow.
Instead I want to celebrate this special and beautiful person who went through so much hardship in her life, and yet came out smiling and generous, to share her wisdom and understanding, and her joy in life. She set me on a path that I need to continue to follow, and for that I'm greatful.
I could go on and on, but I won't. Nothing will be changed now anyway.

There once was a small yellow play-house covered in clinging blue flowers...

Here's to Freda's Girl with my love.
Nin

The Sisters and the Porcelain

I've re-visited Hovdala Slott, the place where I shot my "Orangerie" pictures. This time there was a pretty exhibition of ancient china a porcelain.  The sisters Eherenborg painted  the pretty china on the picture with the tiny green glasses, and there was some fine silverware and linnen as well. I only  managed to capture some small part of it to share;

The Fallen...

In the Lords year 1875, on the 15th of April, Joseph Croce-Spinelli and Théodore Sivel went up in the balloon Zénith ready to beat the record of 7300 metres they'd set the year before. They made it, but didn't; both of the men died of asphyxiation, and the Zénith went down in the mountains near Bérgerac. Only Hervé Tissander survived the ascent up to 8000 metres...
I found the tomb of the two friends and adventurers at the Pére-Lachaise quite by chance, and was enchanted by the dramatic sculpture by Dumilatre.