My daughter’s hands are almost an exact replica of my own so when I knit her these gauntlets I used my own hands for measuring. Problem is, my hands are bigger. My hands are huge. I’m stitching up a hand to put on an apron I made. I traced my own hand for the pattern and it looks like it may take up the entire body of the apron. Suddenly I feel like I’m mostly hands. Enormous bony paws without the french manicure. If I had a french manicure I’d scare people. Maybe I scare people now.

I don’t know.

It’s difficult to keep up. The garden is loaded. Every plant is budding or blooming and it’s all a matter of cutting back now. Trying to keep it in it’s place. It’s magical out there. When I’m in the studio it’s hard to focus on anything but the profusion of blooms outside the doors. It’s a good thing the weather keeps changing from winter like to summer like otherwise I’d be out there all the time.

I keep watching that giant pine tree up on the hill on Jim’s side. It’s huge and it’s dead and it threatens my little sanctuary. It needs to go.

I’ve got two window boxes of rapini going, one doing much better than the other. A clear lesson in using fresh soil. I just dumped the seeds into the soil that was already in one and filled the other with fresh soil before sowing.

There are volunteers everywhere. Cerinthe is blooming in almost every bed, little johnny jump-ups jumping up between the bricks and geraniums by the Buddha’s garden in the deep shade. Not to mention all the daises!

I’ve planted the rooted cuttings from the abutilon alongside the back fence. It will fill in and make beautiful shadows. My other cuttings are coming along nicely. The princess flower, new guinea impatiens, fuchsia, sage and camellia all rooted! I’m determined not to buy any plants this season. We’ll see how that goes.

My anise seeds and rose hips ready for my next liqueur. I was inspired to try my hand after tasting a delicious cocktail called The Last Word at http://slanteddoor.com/index.htmlMy first attempt, a ginger liqueur will be ready on Sunday. The second one an “absinthe” was ready last week. Mmmm. Tasty but needs less honey.
The seeds Moroccan blend of sweet peas. Moroccan because of the color, not the usual pale pinks and blues I’ve grown before but deeper shades of red and purple. I’ve readied the bed with my own compost and will spend some time nicking the seeds tonight for planting tomorrow.

The Messenger Bag. To go with my craigslist bicycle! I had the thing tuned up but it doesn’t shift gears very nicely. I don’t care. It still makes me feel like I’m 10 and it’s spring and I’m riding around the neighborhood with the whole summer ahead of me. It also makes me feel like I’m 51 and I’m Ed Harris as Jackson Pollack riding down the road with a box of beers, cigarette dangling out of my mouth swigging a beer. Also the hills pose a bit of a breathing problem. No matter. The Messenger Bag has a pocket for my cell phone, 911 on speed dial.I can’t believe how well this bag came together. I’ve had the fabric tucked away for years, a couple of pieces of upholstery samples a friend gave me. The handles turned out too long and I didn’t want to cut it and resew so I just folded it over itself and added a button to shorten it and now it fits nicely around my chest and out of the way for riding.

And the pottery (no pics yet). This has nothing to do with immediate gratification. It’s long periods of waiting between each step. The forming and carving or printing. The drying and then biscuit firing then the glazing and firing again. Weeks go by and the end result so far has been hideous. I am learning though from reading and head scratching and trial and error. I expect a masterpiece before the years end.
I finally finished those green socks. The second one doesn’t look EXACTLY like the first but close enough. I’ve started another pair for myself because I have to. So yeah.

My anise seeds and rose hips ready for my next liqueur. I was inspired to try my hand after tasting a delicious cocktail called The Last Word at http://slanteddoor.com/index.htmlMy first attempt, a ginger liqueur will be ready on Sunday. The second one an “absinthe” was ready last week. Mmmm. Tasty but needs less honey.
The seeds Moroccan blend of sweet peas. Moroccan because of the color, not the usual pale pinks and blues I’ve grown before but deeper shades of red and purple. I’ve readied the bed with my own compost and will spend some time nicking the seeds tonight for planting tomorrow.

The Messenger Bag. To go with my craigslist bicycle! I had the thing tuned up but it doesn’t shift gears very nicely. I don’t care. It still makes me feel like I’m 10 and it’s spring and I’m riding around the neighborhood with the whole summer ahead of me. It also makes me feel like I’m 51 and I’m Ed Harris as Jackson Pollack riding down the road with a box of beers, cigarette dangling out of my mouth swigging a beer. Also the hills pose a bit of a breathing problem. No matter. The Messenger Bag has a pocket for my cell phone, 911 on speed dial.I can’t believe how well this bag came together. I’ve had the fabric tucked away for years, a couple of pieces of upholstery samples a friend gave me. The handles turned out too long and I didn’t want to cut it and resew so I just folded it over itself and added a button to shorten it and now it fits nicely around my chest and out of the way for riding.

And the pottery (no pics yet). This has nothing to do with immediate gratification. It’s long periods of waiting between each step. The forming and carving or printing. The drying and then biscuit firing then the glazing and firing again. Weeks go by and the end result so far has been hideous. I am learning though from reading and head scratching and trial and error. I expect a masterpiece before the years end.
I finally finished those green socks. The second one doesn’t look EXACTLY like the first but close enough. I’ve started another pair for myself because I have to. So yeah.

My anise seeds and rose hips ready for my next liqueur. I was inspired to try my hand after tasting a delicious cocktail called The Last Word at http://slanteddoor.com/index.htmlMy first attempt, a ginger liqueur will be ready on Sunday. The second one an “absinthe” was ready last week. Mmmm. Tasty but needs less honey.
The seeds Moroccan blend of sweet peas. Moroccan because of the color, not the usual pale pinks and blues I’ve grown before but deeper shades of red and purple. I’ve readied the bed with my own compost and will spend some time nicking the seeds tonight for planting tomorrow.

The Messenger Bag. To go with my craigslist bicycle! I had the thing tuned up but it doesn’t shift gears very nicely. I don’t care. It still makes me feel like I’m 10 and it’s spring and I’m riding around the neighborhood with the whole summer ahead of me. It also makes me feel like I’m 51 and I’m Ed Harris as Jackson Pollack riding down the road with a box of beers, cigarette dangling out of my mouth swigging a beer. Also the hills pose a bit of a breathing problem. No matter. The Messenger Bag has a pocket for my cell phone, 911 on speed dial.I can’t believe how well this bag came together. I’ve had the fabric tucked away for years, a couple of pieces of upholstery samples a friend gave me. The handles turned out too long and I didn’t want to cut it and resew so I just folded it over itself and added a button to shorten it and now it fits nicely around my chest and out of the way for riding.

And the pottery (no pics yet). This has nothing to do with immediate gratification. It’s long periods of waiting between each step. The forming and carving or printing. The drying and then biscuit firing then the glazing and firing again. Weeks go by and the end result so far has been hideous. I am learning though from reading and head scratching and trial and error. I expect a masterpiece before the years end.
I finally finished those green socks. The second one doesn’t look EXACTLY like the first but close enough. I’ve started another pair for myself because I have to. So yeah.

I’ve got it bad.

Not exactly a fever, more like a simmering. Idea after idea after idea. These insanely beautiful days infuse me with a kind of euphoria. It’s the garden. I’m in the studio and looking out those doors at that wild spectacle of flowers and next thing I know, I’m digging, shoveling, planting, moving things from one place to another, making plans and then just sitting.

After a while I take a closer look at those bachelor buttons that have been blooming since I planted them how many months ago? At least 6. They have never stopped! Those little periwinkle blue heads swaying in the wind while that tenacious little white daisy snuggles around their stems. The poppies are up and spreading, soon they’ll be big and bushy spreading out onto the paths.

That whole central garden has looked grand all year long even with the gopher action. It’s a wild space even though it’s somewhat contained. I’ve tried several ways of planting it. It started out with one rose in the center of each of the four beds with smaller plantings around them like erigeron, allyssum, daisies, snapdragons, cerinthe, bulbs like daffodils, harliquins and tulips though the latter never bothered to make an appearance. Not cold enough? Too many other beauties to compete with? Tasty gopher treat? Who knows though I think that’s my last attempt at tulips. I had tomatoes and eggplants and even broccoli rabe in those beds too. All that planting has morphed into it’s own thing. The strong survive and come back again and again and there’s always the calendula and jupiters beard that spread through our gardens like they own the joint. They only need a little trimming back every now and then to keep from getting too exuberant. Everything seems happy together. They’re all nuzzled up against each other. It’s not a neatly manicured place. It’s more like an unmade bed with gorgeous sheets you don’t necessarily want to hide under a bedspread. I admire my neighbors garden with such neatly planted flowers laying in tidy little mounds of mulch. It’s orderly in a way I can’t seem to maintain and gladly so.

Like these nasturtiums. I will have to pull them out soon. Before they creep in through the door but for now they’re a beautiful cushion around these pots.

And this poppy. I hate to see it go I think it’s the first bloom in the yard but I’m fixing to fire up a raku pot in that stove pretty soon.

Underneath this stool is an artemisia. I tried a lavender but Cassius decided he didn’t like it and used it as his favorite pee spot. I’ve enlisted three of my familiars to convince him otherwise.

My propagation shelf. I’ve got abutilon, hydrangea, mexican sage, princess flower and a couple of other sages all rooting here. Some doing better than others.

Welcome Spring!

These are the things I finished
last week. The earrings, a quick birthday gift for a friend. An idea I’d had in mind for a while…. A ball of silver yarn with a little dangle bead.

The stitchery to add to my small but growing collection. I’ve finally something in mind to do with them all when the pile is big enough.

Unfired pinch pot.

The sock. The mind melting sock that has had me in it’s grasp for the last two weeks. I lost count of how many times I had to rip out rows. I finally had to slow way down to keep from mysteriously losing stitches. I began writing down each and every row finished. This helped. I finished the damn thing and now the real hell of it is to start another! If only my mother-in-law had only one foot. I had planned on making two pair. Now I plan on burning the pattern in a midnight ritual in the yard when the moon is full with a fervent prayer to the knitting gods. Turn me loose dammit!

Then there’s the pottery. So far I’ve broken about as much as I’ve made. Sometimes my hands are two huge slabs of some rubbery substance that I can’t quite keep control of. The slightest touch crumbles whatever half finished piece is within reach. I’ve started moving slowly and carefully around the clay. I caress rather than knead, I take off my rings. Something I never do for any reason. Like the sock obsession it’s grabbed hold pretty tight. I wake in the night and remember I forgot to take a piece off the mold or I lay there thinking of designs I need to try. The glazing aspect completely escapes and terrifies me. I don’t understand it so I’m reading and looking as much as I can so when I go to class I won’t dread the glazing corner, won’t avoid going to that side of the room.
It’s exciting learning this new thing. It’s slowed down the painting in the house though. I promised myself I’d focus on finishing the cabinets this week. I can always roll a few coils for a pot in between coats of paint though, right?

These are the things I finished
last week. The earrings, a quick birthday gift for a friend. An idea I’d had in mind for a while…. A ball of silver yarn with a little dangle bead.

The stitchery to add to my small but growing collection. I’ve finally something in mind to do with them all when the pile is big enough.

Unfired pinch pot.

The sock. The mind melting sock that has had me in it’s grasp for the last two weeks. I lost count of how many times I had to rip out rows. I finally had to slow way down to keep from mysteriously losing stitches. I began writing down each and every row finished. This helped. I finished the damn thing and now the real hell of it is to start another! If only my mother-in-law had only one foot. I had planned on making two pair. Now I plan on burning the pattern in a midnight ritual in the yard when the moon is full with a fervent prayer to the knitting gods. Turn me loose dammit!

Then there’s the pottery. So far I’ve broken about as much as I’ve made. Sometimes my hands are two huge slabs of some rubbery substance that I can’t quite keep control of. The slightest touch crumbles whatever half finished piece is within reach. I’ve started moving slowly and carefully around the clay. I caress rather than knead, I take off my rings. Something I never do for any reason. Like the sock obsession it’s grabbed hold pretty tight. I wake in the night and remember I forgot to take a piece off the mold or I lay there thinking of designs I need to try. The glazing aspect completely escapes and terrifies me. I don’t understand it so I’m reading and looking as much as I can so when I go to class I won’t dread the glazing corner, won’t avoid going to that side of the room.
It’s exciting learning this new thing. It’s slowed down the painting in the house though. I promised myself I’d focus on finishing the cabinets this week. I can always roll a few coils for a pot in between coats of paint though, right?

These are the things I finished
last week. The earrings, a quick birthday gift for a friend. An idea I’d had in mind for a while…. A ball of silver yarn with a little dangle bead.

The stitchery to add to my small but growing collection. I’ve finally something in mind to do with them all when the pile is big enough.

Unfired pinch pot.

The sock. The mind melting sock that has had me in it’s grasp for the last two weeks. I lost count of how many times I had to rip out rows. I finally had to slow way down to keep from mysteriously losing stitches. I began writing down each and every row finished. This helped. I finished the damn thing and now the real hell of it is to start another! If only my mother-in-law had only one foot. I had planned on making two pair. Now I plan on burning the pattern in a midnight ritual in the yard when the moon is full with a fervent prayer to the knitting gods. Turn me loose dammit!

Then there’s the pottery. So far I’ve broken about as much as I’ve made. Sometimes my hands are two huge slabs of some rubbery substance that I can’t quite keep control of. The slightest touch crumbles whatever half finished piece is within reach. I’ve started moving slowly and carefully around the clay. I caress rather than knead, I take off my rings. Something I never do for any reason. Like the sock obsession it’s grabbed hold pretty tight. I wake in the night and remember I forgot to take a piece off the mold or I lay there thinking of designs I need to try. The glazing aspect completely escapes and terrifies me. I don’t understand it so I’m reading and looking as much as I can so when I go to class I won’t dread the glazing corner, won’t avoid going to that side of the room.
It’s exciting learning this new thing. It’s slowed down the painting in the house though. I promised myself I’d focus on finishing the cabinets this week. I can always roll a few coils for a pot in between coats of paint though, right?

I haven’t sewed a quilt in ages. Uninspired to do so expecially, my finger just did that speeling on it’s on. That one too. Lost my trin of thought. Oh my, whta is that?

What I am trying to say is…..

I saw this photo in a New Yorker a while back. A giant pile of crunched up steel that made me want to sew a quilt again. I don’t kmow if it’s finihsed. I don’t know if it’s finished.

I like it though I have no place to hang it and it may end up in a suitcase in my studio. That is why I’m knitting socks. They at least get to come out and keep my feet warm and are admired. By me mostly.
I’m working on a crazy go nuts pattern of leaves right now. Embossed Leaves Socks. On circular needles. What deranged mind came up with this?

I haven’t sewed a quilt in ages. Uninspired to do so expecially, my finger just did that speeling on it’s on. That one too. Lost my trin of thought. Oh my, whta is that?

What I am trying to say is…..

I saw this photo in a New Yorker a while back. A giant pile of crunched up steel that made me want to sew a quilt again. I don’t kmow if it’s finihsed. I don’t know if it’s finished.

I like it though I have no place to hang it and it may end up in a suitcase in my studio. That is why I’m knitting socks. They at least get to come out and keep my feet warm and are admired. By me mostly.
I’m working on a crazy go nuts pattern of leaves right now. Embossed Leaves Socks. On circular needles. What deranged mind came up with this?

I haven’t sewed a quilt in ages. Uninspired to do so expecially, my finger just did that speeling on it’s on. That one too. Lost my trin of thought. Oh my, whta is that?

What I am trying to say is…..

I saw this photo in a New Yorker a while back. A giant pile of crunched up steel that made me want to sew a quilt again. I don’t kmow if it’s finihsed. I don’t know if it’s finished.

I like it though I have no place to hang it and it may end up in a suitcase in my studio. That is why I’m knitting socks. They at least get to come out and keep my feet warm and are admired. By me mostly.
I’m working on a crazy go nuts pattern of leaves right now. Embossed Leaves Socks. On circular needles. What deranged mind came up with this?

Em had her tonsils out yesterday.

We sat with her before the surgery and asked if she had any last words, Scottie asked if he could have her art supplies. You know, the usual stuff you say to somebody about to be cut.
She shot her Dad the die a slow painful death you bastard look when he told the Doc she smokes. Then we went to breakfast.

It was all over by the time we were done and she was sitting up looking not too perky and almost surprised at how much her throat hurt. The nurses were great about keeping the pain meds coming. That’s how we find out things about her we’d normally have to wait years to hear about. This time she told us how all her friends are always so weirded out when they come to our house because of all the weird art around. “Like, what’s up with that fucking monkey with the watermelon on her head and her nipples showing?”

I’m just happy to be doing one thing right as a parent.

Em had her tonsils out yesterday.

We sat with her before the surgery and asked if she had any last words, Scottie asked if he could have her art supplies. You know, the usual stuff you say to somebody about to be cut.
She shot her Dad the die a slow painful death you bastard look when he told the Doc she smokes. Then we went to breakfast.

It was all over by the time we were done and she was sitting up looking not too perky and almost surprised at how much her throat hurt. The nurses were great about keeping the pain meds coming. That’s how we find out things about her we’d normally have to wait years to hear about. This time she told us how all her friends are always so weirded out when they come to our house because of all the weird art around. “Like, what’s up with that fucking monkey with the watermelon on her head and her nipples showing?”

I’m just happy to be doing one thing right as a parent.

Em had her tonsils out yesterday.

We sat with her before the surgery and asked if she had any last words, Scottie asked if he could have her art supplies. You know, the usual stuff you say to somebody about to be cut.
She shot her Dad the die a slow painful death you bastard look when he told the Doc she smokes. Then we went to breakfast.

It was all over by the time we were done and she was sitting up looking not too perky and almost surprised at how much her throat hurt. The nurses were great about keeping the pain meds coming. That’s how we find out things about her we’d normally have to wait years to hear about. This time she told us how all her friends are always so weirded out when they come to our house because of all the weird art around. “Like, what’s up with that fucking monkey with the watermelon on her head and her nipples showing?”

I’m just happy to be doing one thing right as a parent.