Sunday, May 26, 2013


Camping—an expedition to the centre of the earth; a vast well of hope, of something to look forward to... and thus, this weekend we packed our bags and headed off in our Gypsy Caravan to some boondocking somewhere near the river, in the Sawtooth National Forest...

No power, sewer or water hook-ups, just the intricate mystery of the mountains and the immense emerald valley from where I watched the sun go down from shallow grasses on the edge of the mountain....

The clouds sang, and played 'ring around the rosie' with the bright sun, pink, dust purple and there and all around, the sounds of all the tiny mysteries in Nature concealed and revealed to the soul; so magnificent, so giving and forgiving.

I am a speck of dust in the hands of this marvelous green God whose throne sits in the axis of the earth... His voice the sound of the wind; arms swaying tree branches... and this joy tinkling in my feet.. my feet like deer's feet, and He makes me walk on my high hills...

The river on one side...

There's something magical about rivers... rivers are like sacred roads that take us to dreamy lands... rivers bustling with the rush of life. I want to believe that rivers are the truest secret keepers of mankind. And thus, I bring my offerings to the river as I walk in this leafy tabernacle shrouded in silence...

wild flowers under our feet...

And above the valley and mountains and miasma in which every living organism coexists—a yellow full moon and the hope of being lulled away to sleep by the peculiar and mystifying song of the grey wolf... somewhere in the belly of the deep forest.

Morning... in our gypsy caravan... there is a filler of voids, a sort of satisfaction in hiding among beautiful fabrics. For as long as I can remember, taking a trip in a Gypsy Caravan was a favorite fantasy. Now it is a reality! 

This is my source of inspiration... from Pinterest. 

As much as I would like to, it is somewhat difficult to create a room as elaborate as this one above. Besides the fact that it is not practical to travel with an extra load of unnecessary things, or things that move around, our caravan it's a pliable type of a caravan... which means, it really is just a tent trailer and everything would have to be removed and stored away before we can go anywhere. So this is it for now, although certainly not the finished dream. 

Thank you all most kindly for following us in our voyages...
Hugs a plenty, stardust and wanderlust...

Friday, May 17, 2013

The gypsy caravan!  It's camping, but with style. i.e. glamour camping. 
And if you know me, everything is better when done with a little flair.

 Real dishes. Bed linens, not sleeping bags.

And of course, I had to have some roses too...

Luscious fabrics;

a cute chandelier and some more baubles and bling

for extra romance and fun...


I'm in love. Seriously. Madly. Deeply.

Here are just a few shots of "The Cove"—our campgrounds last weekend...

soon after we arrived we we're enveloped by dusk...


The lake just a few steps from our trailer...
smooth and quiet
 as the earth prepared for a deep slumber.

And then... night.
The many wild animal sounds
Some familiar nocturnal noises,
such as the hoot of an owl or the sporadic chirping of crickets,
but also... the unidentified sounds after darkness
enveloping the land ever so mysteriously...

Safe inside... so lovely.
More soon! 
Hope you enjoyed our 'little' trip!

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Gypsy Soup

Gypsy Soup
A hearty stew of garbanzo beans, pork, sausage, green beans, pumpkin, pears, Swiss chard, almonds, onions, tomatoes and spices – a full array of ingredients and interesting flavor combinations that will leave you feeling satisfied.  You may even feel inspired to reach across the dinner table, grab your partner, and dance the flamenco!

From:  The Daring Gourmet,


    2 tablespoons olive oil
    1 lb pork, cut in ½ inch chunks
    ½ lb spicy ground sausage
    ½ lb pork bones (you can get these from your butcher)
    2 medium yellow onions, diced
    2 cloves garlic, minced
    2 cubes chicken or vegetable bouillon
    2 (15 oz) cans garbanzo beans
    2 cups pumpkin (butternut or acorn squash can also be used), diced
    1 can (15 oz) petite diced tomatoes, or 2 fresh tomatoes, diced
    ½ lb green beans, cut into 1 inch pieces
    1 pear, cored and diced
    1 bunch Swiss chard, chopped
    15 whole almonds, ground and toasted (preheat oven to 425 F, spread ground almonds on a baking  sheet and toast for 1 minute)
    2 tablespoons bread crumbs
    2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
    1 tablespoon paprika
    Salt to taste


 Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven on medium-high heat. Pat the pork cubes with paper towels to dry (this will enable browning). Fry the cubes of pork on all sides until nicely browned. Remove and set aside. Fry bones until the meat on them is browned. Remove and set aside. Fry the ground sausage until no longer pink. Add the onions and saute until translucent. Add the garlic and saute for another minute.

Return the pork and pork bones to the Dutch oven and fill with water just until the meat is barely covered. Add the bouillon cubes and paprika. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for one hour.

Add the pumpkin, beans, tomatoes, almonds and bread crumbs. Return to a boil, reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer for another 20 minutes. Add the Swiss chard and pears and continue to simmer for 10-15 minutes. Add salt to taste.

Serve immediately with crusty bread.
Buen Apetito!


Monday, May 6, 2013

Our first camping trip of the season

So I'm back, to the velvet underground
Back to the floor, that I love
To a room with some lace and paper flowers
Back to the gypsy that I was
To the gypsy... that I was
 (Fleetwood Mac – Gypsy)

And so we slept for two nights in the gypsy tent, charming as can be. And we made toast in a campfire and fresh coffee in a coffee percolator, while the enchanting music of the red winged black bird drifted in on translucent waves of gentle evening breezes.

The gypsy tent can be a revelation to a person who doesn't get up at dawn. The birds sing like mad on cold spring morning in lonesome campgrounds, but most of the music is over by the time the sun rises. It was magical waking up to the sound of birds making such joyful ruckus on the roof of our trailer, and by the 'windowless' windows the most amazing view of the somnolent lake, just merely some steps from our door, as untimely fisherman, and their dogs, moved slowly down the gravel road to the lake, carrying fishing poles and gear.

So I close my eyes again and cuddle to the warmth of the body resting beside my own; for I had discovered that I was not alone in the gypsy tent, and the Sage Thrasher and the Lark sung again, and the Black-throated Sparrow and Shorebirds, Songbirds and Upland birds stroke their poses at the top of scraggy trees and the pallid plumes of the Pampa Grasses that shifted and oscillated and murmured by the shore.

The second day we moved to another campground; surrounded by the sand dunes of a sagebrush desert and grassland flats, and two shallow, marshy lakes. From our camp, we could see the arrogant outlines of the sand dunes and right outside our tent laid there a gigantic Cottonwood tree and in it, amongst its scrawny branches, an old owl house; dilapidated by time and weather.

All night I waited for a Great Horned Owl to visit the Gypsy tent. Then, in the distance, a dark fluttering; a silent whistle... but it must had been the Whip-poor-will and in the aloofness of the night, the coyotes too, shared our campground and the whirling wind that so often would sweep across the dunes lifting sands and shifting whirling grasses.

I always bring home souvenirs I collect from every camping trip... like oddly shaped rocks or rocks with unusual colors that later I would scatter around the garden as recollections of good times... thus, my garden harbors in its floors an atypical wealth of interesting keepsakes. Smooth black basalt rocks that happen after lava cools from the Oregon Coast, Geyserites and Travertine rocks from Yellowstone... and once, while camping at a certain mysterious woods, I found a cluster of witch's hair—parched and leafy green in color. Of course, I had to bring it home to my garden....

This time, a lovely bouquet of Pampa grasses collected from the shores of the lake embellish the gypsy tent... once again, a memory is all that is left. My heart is drenched in them. 

So I'm back, to the velvet underground Back to the floor, that I love To a room with some lace and paper flowers Back to the gypsy that I was To the gypsy... that I was (Fleetwood Mac – Gypsy)

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Our tent trailer - Bella Rosa

Every Bohemian girl needs their own gypsy caravan...
aunque sea en su mente 
(if only in her dreams)  

So please, come into my tent and make yourself comfortable.


Well my friends, it is getting late, and you should probably go before you can no longer find your way home. But if you ever feel that gypsy wanderlust, or are in need of a bit of magic, please come back.  See you soon!  Night-night!

Gypsy Heart


Bohemian at Heart
Y va liviano
Mi corazón gitano
Que solo entiende de latir
A contramano.

No pressure.... no diamonds

Live in the sunshine, live for the moments, drink the wild air, be uncommon, be free of mind

And paint your toe nails blue... (and maybe add some glitter too!)

Slumber on, my little gypsy sweetheart,

Dream of the field and the grove.

Can you hear me, hear me in that dreamland

Where your fancies rove?