Picture this.

Hello my lovely friends, and hello to all the beautiful strangers passing through!

Guess what! I still got me nose. No insect didn’t nyam…eat…it like me mother say did happen to the pretty lady in she village, after the pretty lady sniff the perfume-roses then insects eat it.

Even better news, no spider ain’t crawl up and build a nest in me brain after I sniff the thyme-flowers where the translucent spider been crawling.

Just in case y’all does wonder where I does get these Amazing Ideas from, lemme tell you loud and clear:

I GOT A CARIBBEAN MOTHER!

Caribbean mothers is a pack o’ different Females. It ain’t matter which part of the world they ancestors did come from originally, Caribbean mothers…more specifically West Indies mothers…see Fear of Things To Come with more colour, vigour, décor an’ detail than all the best writers of the world combine-together.

A Caribbean woman can be normal-normal, doing the things she and she friends enjoy. Around she friends, she is a regular hibicus. Ha! Soon as she sprout out that-there little bud, watch she transform. With she child, she is gardener, hoe, pitchfork, rake and spray. She jump the bed and become policeman and secret service. With time, she become warner walking with a scroll that she spool-out and proclaim bad tidings from. Lord help you if what she predict come true. Then she is jury, judge, and if you unlucky, executioner..

That, me dear, to cut a long story short, is why I got a’ imagination bigger than the belly of the whale that swallow Jonah.

With this imagination, I been gadding about in this foreign place, looking at things, seeing characters and creatures for a children’s story I done write but plan to elaborate.

I also examine pretty things, enjoying them only for what them is…pretty things. Lemme share some with you. Enjoy and see you soon. Love, neena.

“Angel wings jasmine” I’ve been told they’re called.

Angel wings on an old sundial.

I don’t know the name.

Peace lilies.

Fascinated by the brave little plant on the pavement.

Imagine calling this weed and trying to kill it.

A tart fruit that I love…jamoon.

Refreshing my spirit.