Mysterious Johnson

Two buildings at a corner in downtown Toronto. The one in the foreground is a bright yellow turreted heritage building, currently undergoing renovations. The siding has been removed on one side revealing the original brick wall. Someone has graffitied the word "HYLO" on the bottom of the turret. A wall of windows of a glass and steel condo looms high in the background. Streetcar wires criss-cross the foreground.

#WindowsOnWednesday #WindowWednesday

Hy rise, lo rise - captured Friday

#Phonetography
#EastCoastKin #ArtYear #StreetsofTorontoON #transitionlines #pointy

thanks Susan! I shall

The end to the caterpillar story. They ate all they could of the parsley, and then crawled off to transform into their next form. I really wanted to see that bit, but they really didn't want to show it. Out of 18, we didn't find one chrysalis.

Us kids always visited both, crossing Mr Anderson’s field. But where my dad’s parents were formal, grandma and granddaddy were like an old shoe, comfortable. Hugs and kisses were abundant and there was always an adventure afoot. It may be picking vegetables out of the garden, shelling butterbeans on the porch in the afternoon, neighbors dropping in to say hello while on their walk or watching grandma play her solitaire game at the dining room table. The memories of their home resonates with me today. Everyone welcomed, boisterous laughter and just sheer joy. I couldn’t have been luckier than to be the granddaughter of John and Lila May Coxon.

#TheCampfire
You’ve heard the stories about my dad’s parents, now I want to share my mom’s parents, John and Lila, grandma and granddaddy. Two people truly in love and just plain beautiful.
They lived on Mt. Pisgah Dr., the church road and my other grandparents lived around the corner. Cont in alt⬇️

love the story Susan! And your writing is wonderful to read.

We stayed at the Wellington Hotel on 59th Street which was magnificent and ordinary. We were assigned a buddy dancer who was never to leave our side, and an adult chaperone who was to be with us any time we left the hotel. Mornings we danced to drums Uptown in a converted garage. That garage was the beginning of the Dance Theatre of Harlem. Undulations of our backs, hips, and necks would make us ache as if we were starting to dance all over again. But they made us better barefoot movers. Afternoons, we went to class downtown with our ballet slippers and buns at the American Ballet Theatre. Our legs rose ever higher above our ears en développé, and the girl in front of me fainted when Madame Pereyaslavic passed by with her fearsome cane. We were told not to stop dancing, and we did not, for minutes, until she recovered and left class. Nights were our own for a precious couple of hours. One night, we decided to get to Times Square and 47th Street and the Orange Julius store unchaperoned. Only twelve short blocks. It was easy to sneak out of the hotel - there just weren’t enough adults to watch us all. What we didn’t know then was that we would be paralleling, by one block, the infamous Minnesota Strip (see Wikipedia), where young runaways from my hometown were forced into prostitution. Part of me says there must have been a chaperone shadowing us. The other part of me now says that no pimp in his right mind would have touched those little blonde girls, set out on a walk like bait in a trap. But you know, as I am able to write this, that we made it there, got our smooth whipped orangey drinks, and made it back to dreams of nothing more than dancing through another day and finding more treats. How this all happened is a mystery for me now that died with our dance teacher thirty years ago, before I became truly curious about how the whole trip came together. I quit dancing at the end of that summer. Starting to dance again will be a story for another day.

When last at #TheCampfire, I was sharing with you my story about a 13 year old who wanted to be a dancer, and about getting invited to go to NYC with minimal skills and fewer funds to study at two renowned studios - to a chorus of parental NOs. You know we shed mighty tears until we won. Alt Text ⬇️

yass! lol. she is soo cute. and her name just goes with her!

She is definitely! And I shall, everyday!

haha! yep

o yes! and im so glad we didn't give up on her!

thanks Mary!

cute little black mutt!

and Monkee today

One of those was Reno Ranch. Tracy Reno was a character. She had a ready smile and was quick to laugh. She was funny. She was always talking and always in motion. She was a frazzle haired fifty- something force of nature - and all the dogs respected her. She had a place out in the country with one huge dog run and several little makeshift doghouses. There was no grass at all, and about 30 dogs running around. They were this motley pack of rough hounds, all fuzzy in various shades of black. They all looked related, must have been an awful situation they came from. Now black dogs are the least popular, and for sure my mother in law didn't like any of them, but this cute little 8 lb monster did catch my eye. She had tiny little Chihuahua feet and she was bouncy and barky and spunky. Her name was Monkey. It really suited her cause she looked a bit like a chimp with her dark fur and light skin. And she was obviously smart and definitely knew her name. We weren't looking for a dog, so we went on home, I thought maybe someone else would adopt her soon, she was pretty cute and had a good chance I thought. Wifey followed Reno Ranch and checked periodically and after about a month of her not getting adopted I decided I better take action so we went back and got the dog. She was a couple handfuls! She was mostly teeth, drawing blood multiple times. She was half feral, stealing food off our plates and picking fights with big dogs. She was so tough to handle we even thought about sending her back a few times. But we kept her, and we kept her name, but changed the spelling - she's now Monkee, like the band. It took about 3 years, but we finally tamed her. She's been with us about 8 years now and I love her so dang much. She's my fur baby.

Gather round #theCampfire my sweet brothers and sisters, and hear Monkee's story:

Wifey and I weren't looking for a new dog. Her mom was though,so we agreed to help her pick one out. We went to several rescues to see who was available for adoption.

(cont in alt)

heartbreaking!

yass! I had thought of that... doing a collage over all the letters. I'm gonna give it a go... it might have to happen in phases...

thanks sister!

Mysterious Johnson Artist. sign design

alright, this is the final form of my table sign design. I plan on painting this in white on a small sheet of plain hardboard. it's going to hang on the front of my display table.

hope it's intriguing enough to draw someone in.

#naiveteismyforte

is that a luv gator? 😂

😊

hehehe, ya that's it!

also, what's my theme? 🤔

YouTube video by Bloomingproud Three Dog Night-Joy To The World-Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog

youtu.be/-2wutEzjy_E?...

thanks man!

I love you all!

yes, you too

Pedro Díaz Molins, Snowing Pool (2017) 📸

workin on my shingle

whaddaya think?

#naiveteismyforte

on it

Wild daisies at dusk

#haikuchallenge (daisy) #dailyhaikuprompt (roses) #haiku #poem #poetry #blueskypoet #flowers #wildflowers #bloomscrolling #love

Don't send me roses
Pick fresh wild mountain daisies
To weave in my hair

Monkee's story

coming up on the next #thecampfire

o no! It's a beautiful day in KC, in the 70's. But hazy with Canadian wildfire smoke