Stand Barefoot With Me

Feel the tiny pebbles underneath your tender soles on the cool concrete of my lanai. Wiggle your toes. It hurts a little. We haven't been standing on pavement for the entire Winter. It's time to be sock-free and let our pale feet shine. Once we get comfortable -- no tiny sharp points jabbing our heels -- breathe with me. Close your eyes. The Sun's warmth invigorates our entire bodies. Breathe in. Breathe out. Before we open our eyes, just listen. Feel the wind caress your face.

Do you hear the melody lilting upon the wind? As it sweeps across our cheeks, the wind brings us in to participate in the improvisation. We become an intricate piece of the orchestra in perfect time. The complex and striking notes of the songbirds are sending lyrical messages. The notes are more than mating calls. The songs are celebrations. Like gentle flutes and harps, the music rhythmically serenades the Spring. What you hear is personal to you.

The gala has begun.

I hear the Northern Cardinal sing "cheer, cheer, cheer." Sometimes its whistle is clear, speeding up then ending in a slow trill. You hear the Eastern Meadowlark's high pitched "joy, joy, tweedle-tweedle-dee." Then follows the Red-winged Blackbird's tempo of conk-la-ree, conk-la-ree! The wind remains, cooling our shoulders, while also carrying the melody into the trees like a magic carpet flying into the mystic realm of fantasy. The composition excites us into discovery.

Now open your eyes.

We are facing South. The Sun is high above our right shoulders. Our eyes behold my back yard in all her glory. What catches your attention first? Our eyes dart from one beautiful sight to another like iridescent dragonflies dancing upon lily pads floating in the quarry. Ahhhh, the quarry! Yes, of course, the quarry.

We are looking at a small abandoned deep hole filled with natural spring water and rain. It's mossy-green color is clear, not cloudy. The recent rain acted like Nature's filtration system stirring up the muck from the bottom removing the impurities. She is safe for swimming, floating and rowing. Her water temperature is still cold, but the afternoon Sun will warm her slowly, but surely.

The old quarry is the perfect circumference -- not too big, not too small. The stone company robbed all the limestone available. Then the steel bulldozers left her dusty, dry and parched begging to soak up all that Nature would provide. That was 75 years ago. So, my quarry has seen many Suns and Moons. Not lonely anymore, she welcomes you like an old friend saying, "Come and enjoy. Let me wash away your cares."

The diving board is painted a warm coral. It is situated on the left edge of the quarry. It's surface is rough assuring a firm grip underneath your feet before running, yelling "CANNONBALL," then plunging in butt first. Once you surface blowing bubbles out of your nose causing ripples, you can swim to the right edge if you are a strong swimmer. As I said, my quarry is the perfect circumference -- not too big, not too small. It measures about an acre. There waiting is a ladder made of recycled wood. Be careful. It does become coated with slippery slime after a Summer season. I added coral handrails to all the ladders to match the diving board. The warm coral blends nicely with the rainbow of wildflowers.

Still not quite ready for a dip? Me neither. Let's keep looking and admiring.

I love to tell the story behind my once-abandoned, neglected back yard. Look at the wildflowers! I can't help but sing along with the birds. "You belong among the wildflowers......You belong somewhere you'll feel free." Sporadically, yet in symmetry, floriculture native to Ohio surrounds my quarry. Pops of red, yellow, purple and orange embrace her in love against a green and brown grove of massive Silver Maple, Hackberry, Cottonwood, Ash and Oak.

The wildflowers have been in jamboree for two weeks. Each Spring they hold a pageant to honor rebirth. Their color beckons us to do the same. The tall bluebells are rather gangly like being drunk on wine from the dandelion. Their periwinkle colors sway and flap like shear stockings on a clothesline. The golden-yellow dandelions feel honored as the bluebells seem to bow in adoration for the euphoric feeling they receive after sipping their sweet nectar. The bumblebees are happy to share. Now we know why they buzz lightly on air.

Let's go pick a red poppy for my hair and the pocket of your swim trunks. We must join this festival of colors! We step from the hard concrete into the soft green grass. As the grass bends under our feet, its scent rises. The smell of fresh-cut grass awakens us to another level. I don't know whether I want to lay down and look up at the lapis lazuli sky or run around in circles twirling until I get dizzy. You want to walk slowly to the red poppies enjoying the reprieve from the hard concrete. Our arches sink as clear left-over rain oozes between our toes.

The Egyptian blue sky holds clusters of pearlescent low clouds in many shades. Some rise from gray to pure white as if being pulled by the invisible strings of a puppeteer. These hues accentuate the tallest Silver Maple in the grove. Her enormous branches curve majestically far apart from each other. Within you can see the Celtic knots of the thinner Elderberry trees. Within all the twisting branches of all the trees and shrubs, the space of the blue sky adds depth. The space between is radically important, just as the space between the notes being played by the orchestra of sounds.

Red poppies are a symbol for a peaceful future. We chose the perfect flower to don after the tumultuous months we just experienced. The stem is thin and fits nicely behind my left ear. You decide to wear the poppy in your ear, too. The red bloom is soft and accentuates our eyes -- mine brown, yours hazel.

Our eyes are directed to the Cattails as a Black-capped Chickadee lands on one of the sturdy stalks. We are so close we can see the ebony of his cap and the blue of his tail. His wings open as he sings "free free" showing his delight. He looks especially bright perched on the muted Cattail.

The tall Cattails offer comfort because they grow naturally around water. Their tufts remind me of fuzzy brown hot dogs covered in sticky marshmallows skewered and ready for roasting. Perhaps we'll light a small fire in the black cauldron filled with maroon lava rocks later tonight.

Speaking of food, the colossal edifice in the left side yard is actually the first structure you see when entering my 11-acre piece of enchantment. It is always the first topic of discussion, but I wanted to save telling you about it as long as possible. I wanted the mystery to crescendo like the climax of an Italian opera.

My Black Skylo Dining Space

Looming in the distance of the side yard across the driveway is, what I call, my Black Skylo Dining Space. She is a repurposed Brock silo or grain bin. She is 275 feet high and 90 feet in diameter! I named her "Black Skylo" because her purpose is to bring awe and wonder to my guests as we dine underneath the black sky. She, herself, is metallic silver radiating like a huge cylindrical ball of tinsel. The best part, her ceiling is made entirely of glass!

She is nestled among four mimosa trees. The mimosa trees are not fully mature, but their blossoms add an art deco flair. It's as if a 1920's headdress designer chose the perfect accessory to juxtapose fern-like palms. It seems as if he or she delicately placed a feathery light-yellow-blending-into-pink plume atop the open buds fraying from beginning to end.

In order to get the full effect of my dining room's grandeur, we decide to walk on the blacktop driveway all the way to the entrance of my property. This is a warm welcome to our cold damp feet. With red poppies in our hair, we step again onto a man-made surface. This time, asphalt. Our feet aren't burning as we walk 200 yards to the entrance because my driveway needs repaving.

The surface is more ashy in color dotted with what looks like rust raindrops that splattered and bled forming the shapes of comets suspended in time forever. My driveway is lined with wildflowers joining the natural with the unnatural. The Goldenrod and purple Irises sway in the wind along with my flowing guinea sack dress of light blue.

We arrive at the entrance framed by irregularly-shaped square columns. They are made of discarded natural limestone. Perhaps they once belonged deep inside my quarry. They do not support fancy lights to welcome visitors in the dark. Outside lights pollute the nighttime sky. Clearly seeing as many stars and constellations as possible is the goal as we dine.

We stop. Pause. Breathe in. Breathe out. We hold hands, and turn around at the same time.

Behold! My dream! It gives me goosebumps as we promenade toward her cathedral-arched front door. I hope you feel a tingle, too. Again, I have joined natural and unnatural elements. Her 17-foot front double-door was salvaged from an old mansion in Paris. The address was 11 Rue de Bastille. 11 can still be seen in the rectangular panel underneath the ornate round window in the top center. The door is made of Mahogany. I painted over the Mahogany because neglect left her blah and drab. I chose a deep cosmic blue satin which brings awe and wonder to our experience when entering. This is the precursor to our evening.

The door knobs are placed at chest level, yet appear to be very low when looking up at the mansion door then straining your neck even further to gaze at the glass ceiling of my steel castle. The knobs were made especially for Black Skylo. When closed, two half circles connect to look like a Full Moon. They are silver to match, but are also filled with a mosaic of clear-colored recycled glass which sparkles in the moonlight.

Wild Geraniums fill the flower beds surrounding Black Skylo. Their tiny pinkish-purple blooms appear shy adding even more contrast to the enormity of my dining space. The flower beds are not immaculately manicured. I like Nature's "go with the flow" surrounding the concentric circles which form my steel tower.

This is my dining space where people gather together to experience awe and wonder while sharing a meal, music and star-gazing. She is an extension of my home. Again, I sing lyrics to Wildflowers by Tom Petty. "You belong in that home by and by."

We push one of the double doors open just enough to peer inside the grand dining hall. It creeks like it should adding suspense. We are not entering yet. As we descend the three polished concrete steps, I suggest we light a bonfire to roast frankfurters and melt chocolate between two graham crackers tomorrow night. My gourmet kitchen is stocked with fresh salmon. We will serve it with natural herbs and a light cream sauce paired with an oaky Chardonnay from my family's vineyard in upstate New York. Afterall, Cassiopeia will be visible in the night sky with a Crescent Moon near by.

"Cassiopeia is a constellation in the northern sky, named after the vain queen Cassiopeia in Greek mythology, who boasted about her unrivaled beauty." (Wikipedia) Pefect! We'll listen to the album Wildflowers and Plantasia dancing barefoot before and after dinner (whenever we wish, actually). We'll dance among the wildflowers if we wish like the bluebells gangly but elegantly. We will celebrate our imperfect, yet perfect beauty! Who shall we invite to share in the magic with us?

The day is still young. We're almost ready for a refreshing dip in my quarry, but not quite. We choose to paddle in my rowboat christened "gently" instead of going for a swim. We can row and think of our guest list. I grab a lace parasol to share from the umbrella stand next to my lounge chairs. We might as well resemble a modern-day Monet as we silhouette against the lapis lazuli sky -- in the water lilies floating in my quarry -- surrounded by wildflowers.