Is it wet outside? Cold? More than a bit windy?
Is it dry inside? With warm, snuggy blankies on the bed? Calm and (mostly) quiet?
Of course the answer to all of the above questions is "yes". But does Luna want to come inside?
Life in Oakland, California
Is it wet outside? Cold? More than a bit windy?
Is it dry inside? With warm, snuggy blankies on the bed? Calm and (mostly) quiet?
Of course the answer to all of the above questions is "yes". But does Luna want to come inside?
Remember waay back when - December, 2023, to be precise - I wrote about a new set of gourds I grew in the front yard, destined (fingers crossed) to become birdhouses? Most likely, you don't. But that's okay, because I can tell you about it (again?) and you probably won't mind because you don't remember, right?
So, the gourds grew all summer along in 2023, then sat outside on the front porch drying and curing until nearly the summer of 2024. It took a while, but it was a huge success: nine potential birdhouses for many, many generations of wrens, chickadees and/or titmice.
I did promise, it's true, not to bring up squash, pumpkins, gourds, zucchini or any other large edible vegetable for a while. And I haven't, not for ten whole months.
But just so you know, I am not the only one who "does" squash. To wit, some good friends of ours were in Montreal this fall, and at the farmers' market (probably the last of the season, since snow flurries were imminent) they came across this entertaining and educational display:
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Photo courtesy of Eileen Ward |
So I started this ceramic project - everyone needs some birds and cactus in the yard, right - in the spring, and then, stuff happened. A lot of stuff, and mostly not good stuff. In fact, the kind of stuff that takes up a lot of time, energy, emotion fortitude and, well, life.
But I'm now getting back on track, and have great ambitions to complete this project by the end of the year. Or early January, Yes, I am deadline driven, but not that deadline driven. The point is simply to move it along.
So from April, where there were three unglazed cactuses with unglazed birds to July when the cactuses were glazed, but not the birds.
Last week: almost there, so wish me luck that I will make the deadline!
A week ago, Luna's favorite hangout was on top of the neighbor's rain barrel. The dark plastic absorbed the heat; she could see into the yards and down the driveway, just in case that archenemy, The Black Cat was nearby.
These days, with all this rain, wind and cold, guess who has been firmly committed to the plush cushion upstairs?
Well, my anxiety level is quite high, and Election Day isn't even here yet. But I have already voted, and I hope that you have, as well. And if not, get on it already!
To help keep the panic away, I've been looking at photos I took this year; I offer you a little vignette of flowers and ceramics (yup, handmade by me) from along my driveway. Cheers!
Once upon a time, like around 1991, when the animated Disney version of Beauty and the Beast first came out, we had a young friend who worked in a Berkeley movie house. For me, yes, actually for me, he "liberated" parts of the in-house cardboard standee - the portion that contained my best buddy Lumiere.
Now Lumiere knocked about my studio for a while, and then he moved on. To the attic, to be exact. Where he lived in quiet and peaceful retirement until last week, until someone had the really stupid idea of cleaning out the attic. That someone will remain unnamed, at least here.
And so was Lumiere awakened again: Nope, it wasn't Prince Charming, and no kissing was involved. Instead, it was Luna and I, armed with a feather duster and determination (in truth, I had the duster and determination; she was sleepy and pretty useless).
Lumiere has moved on once again, to be with my niece who is an art director for Cold Open, one of those marketing agencies for the entertainment industry. Kinda sounds like we've come full circle, eh?Same mother sunflower plant, grown from seeds saved from last year. But since the bees are doing the heavy lifting of moving around the male pollen, any sunflower could have been your daddy.