They took their place in this year’s garden on a gray day in March. Then three days of steady rain and in the last hours of the storm, a real pounding that left a small lake in the low spot on our long driveway.
Frank always reminds me that plants are made to withstand wind and rain. I still flinch remembering the ranuculas (renuculae?) that got hammered by an April hail storm.
After a good few days of sun the veggies are just fine.
They are now girded against invasion. The first bucket that received the chicken-wire fix was the catnip.
Big Orange, a talkative feline with a goofy face, was getting too friendly with the new plants.
Then the squirrels began hiding their nut-stash in the pots. Sloppy little diggers abused one tender Early Girl tomato so we did all the pots in chicken wire.
This morning, on my way back to the computer, I took ghosty shots in the window glass that reveal the layers of domesticity in which I exist.
Inside and out blend together. The kitchen curtains, the hedge, the blue pots, the sky blue material I used to make the chimp hat, candles, the green fuzzy leaves of an african violet and the radio antenna that cuts a diagonal across the image, are all elements of my current experience.
Near my heart, through the glass, you can see part of a picture on the kitchen wall. Above a folk-art image of a flying angel it reads “Bless this Home”.
We have been at this river house for three years. Frank and I have grown together and feel settled. We have done good work here. We feel safe and calm.
There are unseen elements in every life that shift and change and eventually necessitate a rearranging.
Change is relentless. Still, I know that feeling of safe and calm is internal. The waters can be stirred but they always settle back to placid.
A trip to the Beadman, to pick up sage oil and amber resin, gave me a chance to slip into the Discovery Shop.
I try to remember, while spending the days enjoying the things that take up physical and psychic space in my life, that life can and does eventually come to a sudden halt.
I am always reminded of this fact when I find treasures and trinkets in my favorite thrift shops.
You will see, on certain days, a new influx of items that have an stylistic unity. They represent a particular taste. It becomes clear that these are things that once filled the home of someone I’ll never know. When their time here was over, family passed these trinkets on for others to find.
I found these kitchen wall plaques. They are probably from the 70s.
The back-to-nature, avocado aesthetic is evident.
I listed them at DarcyArts.
I imagine a long-haired woman creating simple still life sketches in her kitchen. She worked up nice backgrounds for each in checks, stripes and paisleys.
Each basket is different. I like them and thought others would, too.
I also found owls at the Discovery Shop.
Cute speckled owls.
They have holes in the top of their heads. Something to do with the firing process? So they don’t blow up?
The bigger green owl has a face on each side.
I may list these on Etsy tomorrow.
I am enjoying this “free” time, after finishing the proto-chimp, and before a response comes requesting one or two more. I’ve been sewing since December on one project or another.
It’s time to paint!