Well, it finally happened. I am off in search of adventure with my home on wheels, or the Gypsy Wagon, as she is fondly known. We’ve parked her on a small island off the gulf coast of Florida.
I could hang out at Lovegrove Gallery and Gardens all day long. The space vibrates with a creative buzz. I feel so fortunate to have two pieces of her art hanging in my makeshift office on board the Gypsy Wagon.
Then there is Bonnie’s place. I spent almost an hour in there, talking and laughing with the artist. She’s a real treasure and I can’t wait to take one of her classes while here.
Wandering through the art environs, I started to feel a sense of mystery. Not in the Sherlock Holmes genre, more of the metaphysical kind, a feeling that something or someone was calling me. Then I saw them, the mermaids.
They are everywhere; in the galleries, in gift shops, in taverns, restaurants and even the bathrooms. They’ve sung their siren call into my heart and I am obsessed. I am on the hunt for the perfect mermaid.
I may have found her basking beneath the celestial orb that controls the tides of her ocean home,
or, if I’m so inclined, hanging around my neck.
Perhaps a tattoo would consummate the sense of myth, mystery and feminine sovereignty I am seeking. That’s a tall order, since most of the woman/fish tattoos I’ve seen are of the male fantasy variety.
I did find this beauty. She reminds me of Hollywood legend, Rita Hayworth. I see her rendered with auburn locks and sea green tail. Definitely a mermaid who is slave to no man.
Well, the rain has stopped and the sun is coming through the palm fronds. Time to return to the hunt.
. . . . . . mid
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