Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Sitting under my Own Fig Tree...My DIY not dreaming any longer!

As of Thursday, December 27th, 2012 a nightmare ends and a new chapter begins when I get to move into an apartment.  My own fig tree...end a rough time that did not break me.  While not a fan of apartments & this is really pretty decent, it stops a decline, my roller skates so to speak of a slippery slope.

Most of my home belongings are gone, most damaged after Hurricane Issac.  It shouldn't had happened; the storm directly did not do it. It did indeed come about by black mold, but the responsible entity, was the negligence on the part of the (at that time) the property managers and owners. 

Right now, I do not want to give them the energy or time as right now it is more about celebration!

The phrase" fig tree" I've used a lot to symbolize having one's on abode.  Everyone, everything deserves shelter & dignity no matter what anyone say or do.

"Fig Tree is significant to me as I've been without a home for awhile It is also important to me from Micah 4:4 (different translations shown):

New International Version (©1984)
"Every man will sit under his own vine and under his own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid, for the LORD Almighty has spoken".

New Living Translation (©2007)
"Everyone will live in peace and prosperity, enjoying their own grapevines and fig trees, for there will be nothing to fear. The LORD of Heaven's Armies has made this promise!

English Standard Version (©2001)
"but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid, for the mouth of the LORD of hosts has spoken".

New American Standard Bible (©1995)
"Each of them will sit under his vine And under his fig tree, With no one to make them afraid, For the mouth of the LORD of hosts has spoken".

And shown at Isaiah 65:21-22:."They will build houses and dwell in them;they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. No longer will they build houses and others live in them,or plant and others eat. For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people";

It will be simple, for the time being, my new fig tree, but well presented.  I have other furniture, but I cannot afford to nor can I afford not to, bring the remaining of my belongings here from North Carolina. Getting them here will make a huge, quantum leap into my life being settled & my being able to provide for myself.

But for now, I will manage. There's always a way even out of no way!
I have to replace things now that I lost, so I've been looking around for things that are affordable, durable and appealing. There are several designs from West Elm I love. And I really love the idea of monogramming...and using words on it significant.

Yes they are only towels, the words matter more that I want to be a reminder for me. These are from

My favorites are "Fig Tree" & "Paradise"...

My favorite shower curtain also from West Elm "Butterfly" we know butterflies represent metamorphosis, transformation

While this is not my rugs I lost in Hurricane Issac, I like this design as I rebuild... (at least in my head) also from West Elm:


 This chair of which there are 3, I got from a neighbor that was rusting in the yard. My plan originally was to sand, paint & used them in my garden.  This was before I started "wandering in the wilderness" May 25th,2012.  A friend stored them in their yard. Now this week, Friday to be exact, I will be using them in my new apartment for dining room chairs. They still need sanding & painting and I still have to make the cushions, but they will now be done.

Tommorrow is the beginning of reconstruction, of a new time.  Its rather appropiate, don't you think, that it starts at the close of one year, that I do not want to repeat & the beginning of a fresh new one that lies wide open waiting for me to put my print on, my design, my hope, my peace.   I am not looking for my old life, that ship has sailed, that bell has rung.  But I will have my new life that will begin. Tomorrow.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Amour: Falling in Love at a Farmer's Market

I was inspired but not in the way you think. I walked up to a Saturday Marketplace operated in the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. I did not think they were going to be opened so close to the holidays, but there they were!

The first thing I heard as I came around the corner was the sounds of The Neo Collective trio

this was before I saw the produce. Today was a gorgeous almost spring day, great skies right temperature & organic foods.

I purchased pumpkin bread, curried couscous & blackeye peas salad from one vendor. Then 3 types of pepper jelly, chow chow (a Louisiana relish) pickled green tomatoes that were to die for and organic,free range eggs from Mr. Cal Crops from chicken he raises.

And then I headed home but before I got to the corner the first line of a poem popped in my head. The thought startled me as I've not been that terribly inspire to write any poetry this year sans one back a several months ago.

It happened because I watched the bass guitarist who happened to be a woman deeply immersed in creating sounds in her head, lost in her own world of sounds.

The last time I wrote something from my If Jazz was a Color series was a poem called the "Sounds of the Men" in 2000 watch a jazz brunch. In fact I paid a nod to it in this poem.

Amazing what healthy food, good weather and change can do!

Until I Saw That Face

By Jacquelyn Hughes Mooney (c)12

Until I saw that face

I always thought that deep



mesmerizing can't get enough of that feeling that comes from jazz

was relegated from that place...

that place

that secret society that held the sounds of the men.

It made me fall in love again

for that 100 thousandth time

with the face of New Orleans.

Just when I had enough

Really enough of

that dark side

that black hole

that keeps springing up at the most inopportune tie

From the gut cramping of near shattered souls that can ever seem to come clean

not unlike that blackened mold & stench out of the intestines of Katrina winds.

My patience had worn thin..

I wanted to run until that highway ran out

just to get away from that surreal vibe.

But then...

like the taste of calamondian oranges made into marmalade

the sweetness and the the sour-ness

I saw in that face

I saw in that face

that face...

that face...

And I fell in love all over again

for the zillionth time...

For the very last time

So I say..

With the face of New Orleans

All rights reservedJHM12-21-12(c)