A Holiday Write Treat

Anita Marie Moscosso was an active, highly valued member of the Soul Food Cafe at its height between 2000-2005. While I no longer work Soul Food I have continued to pay to keep this magical world online. It still offers rich creative stimuli and holds its own today! The Chocolate Box was one of the first features I created. My son created the gorgeous template for me. He went on to create art work for all the features at Soul Food.

I do hope some folk will wander down memory lane, click the individual chocolates and see where their work takes them. Perhaps the mists will rise and the world of Lemuria will be visible again. I will happily repost and feature Chocolate Box pieces here.

MY ENDURING BONES

choc_02

Years ago I met some wonderful Writers and Artists through a website called The Soul Food Café.

Heather Blakey was the creator of this wonderful site and grew it into a vibrant community.

There are many,  many pages at the Café where you can go for inspiration or to feed or meet your Muse.

The Chocolate Box was one of my favorite prompts- I’m totally into the Holiday Spirit ( as far as my writing goes anyway ) so I think I’m going to work through these.

If you’d like to try, just click HERE  to find the box of Chocolates and click a treat and find your prompt.

To visit the Soul Food Café Homepage click HERE

I’d love to read what  you might come up with, so please leave a link in the comment section.

amm

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Memory Jugs

Memory Jugs Descansos

The first memory jugs were made by African Americans for grave adornments. Memory jugs are mosaic vessels covered in mortar and encrusted with shards, shells, and various found objects. They were popular in Victorian times as folk art but the idea is believed to have originated from African mourning vessels. “ These were memory laden mosaics…three dimensional scrapbooks. In essence they are fascinating time capsules that link the past to the present as poignant narratives.

What would you put on a memory jug? Contemplate a narrative that might spring from making this art form.

Reminders from my Younger Self

Perhaps you will be inspired by Nicole Cody’s lead and write about your younger self.

Cauldrons and Cupcakes

NicoleandBunny

“Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you’ll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit.” 
~ Neil Gaiman, M is for Magic

One of the most disorienting things about chronic illness and long bouts of treatment is that it’s easy to become overwhelmed. Living in this half-alive place for so long you can begin to forget bits of who you are, and what was once important to you.

Luckily my sister recently sent me some images from our childhood. Last night I looked through them to see if my younger self could shed any light on this life I am living now. I’m so glad I did!

Here I am on board my maternal…

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Grandmother’s Coat

Grandmother-s coat heller kleinI have always been fascinated by Clarissa Pinkola Estes idea of making a full length scapecoat to detail in painting, writing, with all manner of things pinned and stitched inside. But I really love what Alice Wellinger has done here. This beautiful piece truly resonates and fuels the desire to do something using a grey coat that I have had hanging, unworn for many years.

In order to come to know them better it could also be good to explore what the inside of a character’s coat looks like

The Spider Enters The Parlor

Searching For The Toxic Baby

livi

When she returned to Riversleigh

the lights were on, the windows were opened to let in the fresh crisp  air and the birdsong and of course the music that Riversleigh River makes as it winds its way by the big grand house.

She stopped before making her way to the door and for a moment, and for just a second  the Sun seemed to fade, the air grew colder the birds stopped singing.

She sighed

looked up to the house with no expression on her shadow enshrouded  face and walked  forward to the door.

She hesitated and then:

She knocked and the sound, that short brief knock, boomed through the halls, it rattled the windows and somewhere in the house- someone said:

” Throw another log on the fire. Winter is here.”

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Returning to Riversleigh

As I watch travellers coming back to Riversleigh I cannot help but think of the scene in ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape’ as they watch the caravans arriving for another summer. I am just as excited as Gilbert and Arnie were.

Wolf Dreams

The Skink stuck his head up out of the flap on my big brown backpack and commented, “You know, the last time we went on a trip, it was that useless journey to find She Wolf.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice so close to my ear. “How did you get in there?” I grumbled. He certainly hadn’t been in there when I had jammed the bag full…come to think of it, how could he fit? I had stuffed the bag to bursting.

I felt the weight shift as he climbed out of the bag to sit on my shoulder. “Just arrived. But not a minute too soon – someone has to keep that nasty earwig-inner critic of yours in check. And his tin is in the bag, I see. No,” he continued as I drew a breath to protest his last statement, “I know you didn’t pack…

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Return to Riversleigh, Part I

It is so good to see old friends gathering in Riversleigh!

Miss Pelican's Perch

Sierra Exif JPEGAs the bus pulled away, I stood on the side of the road with my bags in hand.  I stared at the great Avenue of the Trees before me.   I could have requested a staff member to collect me from the bus stop, but I wanted to enjoy the mile-long stroll on the Avenue that leads to the gates of Riversleigh Manor.

You never know what type of trees will be on the Avenue or in what season.  Everything at Riversleigh operates on its own time and in its own way.    On a previous visit, the Avenue was comprised of jungle foliage with a heavy canopy.  At another time it was a Siberian taiga forest.   Today there are luscious green deciduous trees in full summer leaf, even though it was mid-winter, cold and dead, in my real world back home.  The tree branches interlaced overhead making a tunneled portal directly to…

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