The Meteorite

OK, what’s this?

A truffle!

No!

Look, you’re not gonna guess, so I’ll tell you. It’s a meteorite, found on the mountain this Sunday when we trekked up Mt Amandola with our CAI group (Club Alpini Italia) and were rewarded with a the most spectacular views across the hilltop towns of Le Marche to the sea, as well as a meteorite. Isn’t that marvellous though? To find a meteorite? We climbed to about 2000m,

 

 

 

 

……….ate a banana and a packet of crisps (classic) and rested awhile on one of the peaks before climbing down slowly to the trattoria where we’d left our cars. Then a long and dozy lunch. And the day before I was at the sea spending the morning costing our June workshop with Patrizia the owner of I Cigni, . It was almost tropical in comparison.

 

 

This part of Le Marche is where the mountains pushed towards the sea millions of years ago. In fact a great part of the sea was itself thrust up trapping a species of red shrimp in what is now a glacial lake (Lago di Pilato) in the process. Red shrimps and meteorites.

So, lucky we are, to have the mountains and the sea within a short driving distance of each other.

So, here’s an idea. Spend a fantastic weekend on our workshop and spend the rest of the week touring this beautiful area; even go meteorite hunting up in the Sibillini mountains. You’ll find one, you will, with a bit of guidance.

AN INTERVIEW WITH MICHELLE RUMNEY AND MICE

http://www.roomontheedge.com/2010/03/interview-with-michael-eldridge-artist-photographer-creativity-coach/

Our flyer for Tuscany

The StarStone myth

Why a star?

Why a stone?

Well. it happened like this..

I was organising a creativity workshop with my beloved TigerEagles in Chamonix, France.

I needed to prepare a visualisation for the feathery, furry creatures and for inspiration took myself down to the river

below the Chalet where we were staying.

And there they were, waiting like huge eggs in a Eagle’s nest; washed down from Mont Blanc over the millennia

and seemingly just waiting for my arrival (or so he would like to think, I hear you whisper).

That night before the workshop was full of glistening stars; and there it was, or there they were.

I painted seven stars in memory of the voyage of Isis and the group did the same (after many a trick and game)

And mine is sitting before me now as I write.

Wanna see it?

Like a star of your own? wanna know how to get one?

Maybe we’ll let you in on the secret place where you can find your own.

It’s a pilgrimage though.