While exploring Portmeirion(see link) during one of my holidays I noticed something interesting about one of its paths. This one connects the top portion of the village, near the entrance, to the bottom . The interesting bit was that elements of this path could be combined (on paper) to create the illusion that both ends could be viewed simultaneously. This is my attempt to do that.The divisions and variations in the pencil drawing are a result of a Graphic arts project that required contrasts in a single project.
My family was wonderfully differnt. My grandfather ,Sam(his wife Anne and he did not like the term grandparents) once was pressured into saying grace at a family Thanksgiving dinner and uttrerd "may everyone here die of diptherea"
Anyway, his daughter My aunt, Ann had his clever wit and wrote a column for a local paper in Long Beach Indiana . This has been a few yeas ago but I still have several of them . Here is a favorite.
The other night a T.V. newscaster had one heckofa time trying to unscramble a name he had flubbed up. It reminded me of an intellegent conversation that took place not too long ago.My sister and her family had just moved to Micchiana Shores. Ev picked up our mother and me to spend the day at her new abode. They were in the front seat, I was sitting in the back. We were leisurely driving into Michiana when mom asked the name of the street where Ev lived. Ev told her "Groveland". We drove along a few more minutes when Ev added that it was knid of a strange name. In the back seat my mind was on something else but in all seriousness I said "maybe it was after Groveland Cleever." We drove along in silence broken only by Ev muttering that she hoped she was going the right direction and Mom muttering about how many pretty homes there were out here.
After a bit Ev asked , "who's Groveland Cleever?" I absently added that he was the President . More silence, more muttering about direction and pretty homes and again silence. Suddenly Mom turned around and asked "What's he president of?" By this time I had forgotten what we were talking about and came back with "Who?"We all have rather short fuses so she snipped , Groveland Cleever!" Just as snippily I replied"For crying out loud! President of the United States!"
I heard her softly start to recite a poem she had taught us as kids.. " First there was George Washington, the noble,truthful one. the second was John Adams then Thomas Jefferson...I tuned myself out. All of the sudden she wheeled around and yelled ,"You dumb jerk it was Clover Greeveland!!!!! We were so loused up by then that it sounded pretty good to us so we forgot the whole thing.
Gotta love it!
THE WAY IT FEELS SOMETIMES
OCRACOKE FERRYBOAT
As we passed the sign at the side of the narrow road, I quickly read "Ferry Traffic Left Lane". Ahead , the road stretched out for a quarter of a mile, then curved left. As we rounded the wide curve, I saw the ferry dock. The road came to an abrupt end, as if it had been washed out in a storm.
We came to an easy stop and turned the engine off. It would be about 20 minutes until the next ferry arrived. There was a peacful silence, interrupted only by the gusting wind and the occasional squawk of a sea gull.
A blast of a loud air horn announced the approaching ferry. She looked awkward , as if she did not belong in the water. She was a flat barge-like boat with a pilot-house in the middle that seemed slightly out of place.
It took ten minutes to complete docking and unloading. Slowly the line of wating cars started to drive over the noisy metal bridge onto the ferry. The crew was busy directing them to park on either side of the pilot house for maxium use of the minimal spage. Blocks were placed in front of the tires and a chain was hooked across the stern. The powerful diesel engines revved, and slowly we moved away from the dock.
We got out of our car and had started to explore the boat, when we noticed a commotion at the rear. About 30 sea gulls were following us. These birds are real scavengers, and whenever there is food around they know it. They were gracefully diving, soaring and gliding about fifteen feet above the boat. Some people had bought a loaf of bread form a bakery truck on the ferry and were tossing crumbs in to the air. The gulls would dive, catch and eat them in flight. Somehow they could manage all that and still keep pace with the boat.
As we were feeding the gulls, we noticed a small sand bar off to the left. It was occupied by twenty-five to fifty sea gulls and pelicans. As we passed , a few of them looked at us , but for most of them we went unnoticed.
Then we saw a very strange sight. There, sitting in the middle of the Pamlico Sound was a crane - not a bird -, but a steam shovel. It was balancing on the end of a sand bar, dredging up a road for itself. Looking as if it had been caught in high tide, it too went on working without noticing us. We made our way past a barren island , coming so close I felt sure we would run aground. I worried about it but decidided to leave the navigation to the pilot.
We passed one of the sister ships that was on the return trip. Warm smiles and waves were exchanged. It was good to know that strangers could still be friendly to each other.
As we were standing in the bright sunshine feeling that great sensation of the tang in the salt air, the Ocracoke dock came into view in the distance. As it grew larger, a strange feeling came over me. That I did not want this cruise end. That we had left all our problems back at the dock, and being out here were somehow detached form it all. Standing at the stern watching the water churn was soothing enough to make anyone relax. Suddlenly we were docked and unloading, and as we drove over another noisy metal bridge I realized that feeling of detachment would continue.
We had just arrived at Ocracoke Island and the last ferry until tomorrow had just departed.
Portmeirion
One of my favorite places to stay while traveling is Portmeirion in North Wales.Used as the "Village " in the TV seiries "The Prisoner" it is actually a hotel. Built by Sir Clough Williams Ellis the main hotel , group of cottages and shops ,are truely magic .
Williams-Ellis built Portmeirion from 1925 to 1975 on his own private peninsula on the coast of Snowdonia to show that "the developement of a naturally beautiful site need not lead to its defilement."
The Village, which has several shops and restaurants,is surroundedby the Gwylt subtropical gardens and woodlands and miles of sandy beaches.
I learned of Portmeirion whie viewing "The Prisoner,"starring Patric McGoohan, which was filmed in the 1960s with the hotel and village portraying the Prison. It is actually a wonderful place that creates the feeling of Portofino Italy.
Portmeirion is also open to day visitors, but there is nothing quite like being a hotel guest.In the late afternoon as the day visitors begin to leave ,this magic place becomes your own private,tranquil wonderland! I hope to return soon!
