Red Letter Day - NuMotion

Today is a Big Adventure for Julie. At 10 AM a new semi-electric wheelchair will be delivered to her at Mesa Manor.  It is to have wheels powered by an electrical battery that will give acceleration when pushed, with both low and high settings.  Even for a bariatric person, it should be able to go up inclines with a manual wheel turn.  It is a NuMotion chair, sold and fitted to her by a fellow who worked at the Para Olympics in prior times, pairing para athletes with specially adapted wheelchairs. A picture of the new electric blue chair will be included later. It costs as much as a small used car, a kings' ransom in my mind, but all for the cause to help Julie have a more functioning life. Her borrowed chair is unwieldy.

And speaking of Julie, I have set up a blog for her, As The Wheels Turn.  She is not enthused about this endeavor, but I will continue pushing for her to write about things that interest her.  She did manage to dictate her own "profile" for the blog.  When she sends me an email about a topic that piques her interest, that will be the clue for a new post.  I would dearly love to see if she gets any traffic to her site, but sitemeter has been down for over a month, and visits cannot be tracked through them.  Does anyone know of any gizmo that will track blog visit sites by location?  Please comment, if so.  Google only tracks visits by number in their stats.

Every morning, Julie and I stay outdoors at the facility, and she often eats her lunch on a tray alfresco before I leave for home.  So far, no other resident has been at the gazebo table, as one-to-one staff attendance is mandated outdoors.  And our lack of other patient visits to the gazebo may be because we are calling the gazebo our own, and I spread out all my doings on the tabletop.

A few weeks ago I was cutting down the front bushes at the nursing home and was told to cease and desist because of liability reasons; that incident must have come up in their weekly staff meeting since the summarial dismissal to QUIT making the facility more attractive was reversed.  Several days ago I was told by The Powers That Be that I could officially be a volunteer at the Genesis owned facility.  Official in their corporate minds must include coming under the umbrella of their liability insurance policy.  So, I duly underwent the first of two tuberculosis tests, and was deemed negative for the dread disease yesterday, but still they need to inject me for a second screening at the end of the week. It is a good thing they are allowing me to volunteer, because Saturday I planted several containers with geraniums and petunias, watered all the plants in cement containers, and weeded. Yesterday I painted one of the geranium boxes red because it looked like it had not had any attention in ten years. Surely the Powers are grateful for all this gardening attention?

This evening the husband and I are hosting a writers' class pot luck with fellow students from Sandy Dorr's spring writing group here in Grand Junction.  I am making sangria, red, for the festive occasion.  Pictures tomorrow if I remember to take snapshots.  The weather has been cloudy and rainy and since this is to be an outdoor soiree, we may have to be indoors, defeating the purpose of the outdoor summertime theme.

Post Script: the party did take place outside, although we received more rain while eating and the six of us scurried under cover so our combined sweetness did not dissolve into sugar.

If Your World Rocks on its Foundations

source

Suppose your whole world seems to rock on its foundations; let it rock, and when the rocking is over, the picture will have reassembled itself into something much nearer to your heart's desire.

           ----From The Seven Day Mental Diet by Emmet Fox

From Why, O Lord?.....

I have known that if I want to be happy on earth I must fall madly in love with God and the things of God.

Then, all things being equal, in time of suffering the easiest way to allay the suffering, especially if it is really sharp, is to get out of myself - yes, get out of myself; visit someone who is suffering worse than I am, do something to remind me of the sufferings of the world, set my heart in order if I feel a residual dislike of someone, write a cheque for the world's poorest mission, answer a tiresome letter from someone who wants me to tell him whether hell exists, or what he should not do to leave his nasty possessive wife. 

In other words, perform an act of love that requires patience and honesty.                .... Carlos Caretto

Hand Spun Gifted Wool

An internet Scrabble friend whom I have virtually known for about seven years but have never met personally, sent me this:

An amazing gift of hand spun wool

This wool draped over a tomato cage is not even all he sent because I shared some with friends.  Natalie got right to work on her portion, knitting up a pretty shawl.  The darker and lighter colored two ply wool shown below will be worked up as the bottom piece of the wrap.  She is doing a good job of styling John's yarn into a usable creation.

My friend, John, spun all this wool himself.  It cost him a kings' ransom just to mail it from where he lives in Australia.  He and I have previously exchanged post cards; he sent me a picture of an Aussie wombat years ago.  He likes wombats.  I sent him something back, a watercolor methinks.

And not only does this John spin, he also knits.  He asked me via the chat line on the ISC forum several months ago if I needed something knit up: a baklava, or a hat. My reply was "no" because I happen to also knit.  But I asked him if he could spare some hand spun wool because I can't, don't, and will never spin wool.  

Lo and behold, he sent me over five pounds of hand spun Australian sheep wool.  Wow.  You should feel the lanolin in this wool, just marvelous.  Thank you, John!

This is the tomato plant not clad in wool, and it has produced three actual, edible tomatoes.

And this sweet little four inch tall angel was given me last week by the husband because he thought I needed a bit of extra love.  She is hanging off my newly replaced iPhone.  Replaced because the first one was in a sack in which iced tea was spilled, ruining the iPhone. Note to self: do not put your phone in a plastic sack with other items, especially one containing liquids. 

On the Julie front: after church this morning I am encouraging her to write a blog.  Her stepfather, her aunt, her uncle and I have all asked her to do this, but she has been unenthusiastic about it thus far.  It is now time to take the bull by the horns and sit down in front of a laptop plugged into some common room area at Mesa Manor and start the process.  Maybe next time I post it will be with a link to a Julie Created Blog.  We shall see.

Three Weeks in Summer

Forgive me readers, it has been 22 days since I last posted.  And I have made many mistakes and committed to just a few major decisions.

As daughter Julie is in a nursing home, and is the youngest resident there presently, she seems to be considered either a staff sister, daughter, or granddaughter.  Julie is treated well and respectfully, although at times waiting for help is inconvenient.  But waiting for her is not life threatening, and the hours and days continue on.

Visiting with daughter takes my mornings, and worrying about her comprises the afternoons.  I try to plan something to do with her each morning: a manicure, doing a crossword puzzle, a hair trim, petting a dog.  Suggestions appreciated.  I used to take care of the entry garden area, pruning the rose bushes with clippers, picking up debris, and puttering.  That came to a screeching halt yesterday when I brought in my battery charged hedge clippers to trim the bushes and was told that this was not allowed as it was a "liability hazard."  Funny, who knew trimming plant overgrowth was considered hazardous.

When I left yesterday before lunch she was talking (high decibel level) to a resident new to her assigned meal table.  He was hard of hearing, and she was helping to make him comfortable by chatting him up.  She has a good soul.  Julie later called to tell me she encouraged him to eat, similar to how as a child she had also prodded her great grandmother to take "just a bite."   What caring lessons she learned as a child seem to have carried onwards.  Maybe she can still help someone now.  I think so.

 

Julie, smiling on the 4th of July, Gene, not smiling.  Dogs playing at Gene's feet, but out of sight. They were happy visiting.  Gene or I take one or two dogs several times a week to be petted and they are getting into a routine of outings in the car.  Libby, the Wonder Therapy Dog for 7 years, newly retired because of knee problems, is much better at sitting and patiently waiting for the visit to end.  Although she does like the head scratches and cookies that Julie gives them, albeit five calorie Milk Bones snapped in half.

It will not be three weeks until I again post, but sooner.  Count on it.

Clematis and More

Beauty observed from neighbor Woods' fence...

and a Woods' iris to boot.

Also, courtesy of Mr. Woods, a cedar nursery box he made for me in April; trusting the coleus will flourish through September on our back patio.  Some critter was munching on foliage this morning; everybody has to eat, just not at this smorgasbord.

A little crowd of google eyes was in Jack and Julie's knick knack box in York.  She thinks maybe Jack made it in years past.  It is now keeping company with the coleus.

 And day lilies about to bloom

Over the weekend, I pulled out tons of mint that overgrew grassy areas, and the bindweed was having a field day, too.  Out that went, which only makes it grow more profusely.  And I trimmed down the rose bushes, too.  At least I can expend energy in eradicating weeds, even though tackling the thorny issues of life is a bit more daunting. 

On the Julie front, she is moving to Mesa Manor this week from Colorado Canyons Hospital.   Mesa Manor is a Genesis owned 84 bed licensed facility.  This is a picture of its entrance and information can be accessed here. 

 It is probably the best place for her now.  She soldiers on.

Sharing Goodness

Indulge me in the sharing of the goodness I found and re-found today in searching the web.  Here are web sites, readily accessed in the future for perhaps Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus (NPH) or recipes or music or books (if I remember this particular post).

• Quick link to NPH is here.
• I Know that My Redeemer Lives, great text and music are here.
• Life Adjustment Program at Hilltop are here and here.
• Breakfast drink here (thanks, Kepanie)
• the Magnacarta in stitches
• a crochet fly curtain, who knew?  Mrs. T did.
• Soup that the grand husband concocted, again please?
• free: complete Works of William Shakespeare
• jogless two row knitting tip: Craftsy
• liturgical mysteries (have read three, will read more)...will have you rolling in the (church) aisles
• Rijksmuseum for art
• modern church music for an old, old hymn sung in the Shetland Islands when I was there that wonderful season
• Chicken Tikka Masal recipe (forget the skewers)
• Etsy for handmade gift goodness
• recent article about the new Scrabble words

Julie is at Colorado Canyons Hospital, back from South Carolina last week, and is faring well.  Thank you for all your prayers and good wishes.  We hope for a Grand Junction placement soon.

Daughter Julie Returns to Colorado

Yesterday was a bittersweet 24 hours, filled with good byes to friends and Julie's home in South Carolina.  She and I spent several hours in sorrow, but welcomed a new beginning for her as she returned to Grand Junction, where she and Jack lived the first five years of their marriage.  As she said, she left Colorado as a wife and is now returning as a widow.

We flew back to Grand Junction from Rock Hill, SC via AeroCare air ambulance on a Lear 35 jet with Sven, the Norwegian pilot, and three other staff assisting us in all ways possible for a safe trip home via air.  Here are pictures from the journey yesterday.

Kitchen Table Wisdom

Until we stop ourselves, or, more often, have been stopped, we hope to put certain of life's events "behind us" and get on with our living.  After we stop we see that certain of life's issues will be with us for as long as we live. We will pass through them again and again, each time with a new story, each time with a greater understanding, until they become indistinguishable from our blessings and our wisdom.  It's the way life teaches us to live.
                                                by Rachel Naomi Remen

As a physician, I was trained to deal with uncertainty as aggressively as I dealt with disease itself. The unknown was the enemy. Within this worldview, having a question feels like an emergency; it means that something is out of control and needs to be made known as rapidly, efficiently, and cost-effectively as possible. But death has taken me to the edge of certainty, to the place of questions.

After years of trading mystery for mastery, it was hard and even frightening to stop offering myself reasonable explanations for some of the things that I observed and that others told me, and simply take them as they are. "I don't know" had long been a statement of shame, of personal and professional failing. In all of my training I do not recall hearing it said aloud even once. 

But as I listened to more and more people with life-threatening illnesses tell their stories, not knowing simply became a matter of integrity. Things happened. And the explanations I offered myself became increasingly hollow, like a child whistling in the dark. The truth was that very often I didn't know and couldn't explain, and finally, weighed down by the many, many instances of the mysterious which are such an integral part of illness and healing, I surrendered. It was a moment of awakening. 

For the first time, I became curious about the things I had been unwilling to see before, more sensitive to inconsistencies I had glibly explained or successfully ignored, more willing to ask people questions and draw them out about stories I would have otherwise dismissed. What I have found in the end was that the life I had defended as a doctor as precious was also Holy. I no longer feel that life is ordinary. Everyday life is filled with mystery. The things we know are only a small part of the things we cannot know but can only glimpse. Yet even the smallest of glimpses can sustain us.

Mystery seems to have the power to comfort, to offer hope, and to lend meaning in times of loss and pain. In surprising ways it is the mysterious that strengthens us at such times. I used to try to offer people certainty in times that were not at all certain and could not be made certain. I now just offer my companionship and share my sense of mystery, of the possible, of wonder. After twenty years of working with people with cancer, I find it possible to neither doubt nor accept the unprovable but simply to remain open and wait.

I accept that I may never know where truth lies in such matters. The most important questions don't seem to have ready answers. But the questions themselves have a healing power when they are shared. An answer is an invitation to stop thinking about something, to stop wondering. Life has no such stopping places, life is a process whose every event is connected to the moment that just went by. An unanswered question is a fine traveling companion. It sharpens your eye for the road.” 
                         ― Rachel Naomi Remen, Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal

On Eagle's Wings

If only Julie could believe this power as she is in the midst of despair.

On the Watch

A reflection on the almond tree:

Elizabeth wrote a thoughtful comment on the previous post about God being on the watch.  He is. Looking into the Old Testament verse in Jeremiah 1: 11-12, indulge me in this. This link gave me pause.

It is amazing to see beautiful almond trees blossoming all over Israel every winter. They are the first tree to blossom and yet the last to bear fruit. 

The almond tree is associated with one of the earliest prophecies of a young Jeremiah. “Moreover the word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘Jeremiah, what do you see?’ And I said, ‘I see a branch of an almond tree.’ Then the Lord said to me, ‘You have seen well, for I am watching to perform My word.’”

God is on the watch, taking care of us all, if we only pause to see the wonderment of His goodness.

Also from the referenced link:

The Hebrew word for almond, shaked, is also translated “to watch”. By seeing the almond branch, God assured Jeremiah that He is watching over His word to bring it to pass, no matter the passage of time.

The picture of the two chairs with the sunlight coming down on them was one of the last dozen or so Jack had sent me from the vantage point of his front step, looking out onto their lawn.  Now there is only one person left on earth to occupy that pair of chairs, and Julie is setting her mark on the world in her unique way from her bed, if not her wheelchair.

Things are going well.  Julie is getting through the anger stage of grief, although it will still flare up occasionally when she is especially stressed, trying to heal physically and emotionally. Only a few days ago she told me that she had Stage IV breast cancer, diagnosed in 2012.  She had originally told me the oncologist had diagnosed her as "Stage III plus."  Her pressure wounds have shown no improvement, but as far as we know, she is in remission from cancer.

None of us knows the timing of our demise.  Henri Nouwen's meditation today was apt. 

How we leave others depends largely on how we prepare ourselves for death.  When we can die with grateful hearts, grateful to God and our families and friends, our deaths can become sources of life for others.
  

Jack certainly left a source of life for all of us.  I can only hope to do as well.

Planning for a New Beginning

It has been a week since last Juliet (daughter) and Jack (now deceased) were given my blog attention.  This was a picture taken of them in 2005 during better times

Jack's obituary can be found here.  He has been gone two weeks today.  Julie was able to attend his funeral, being allowed a  few hours window of opportunity to say her final good bye to him at the cemetery. Piedmont Medical Center in Rock Hill, SC made a policy just for her so that she could be allowed away from her hospital bed without being discharged from the center and then having to undergo a new admission. Seems the two of them were always changing policy, and from the number of conversations that I have been privileged to share since his death, they were also accustomed to converting mind sets about physical disabilities as well.

Julie was transferred to White Oak Manor in York, South Carolina where she remains.  Her pressure wounds are a bit worse for the transfer, as is her physical condition.  Her spirits are becoming more hopeful. The one concern now is transporting her back to Grand Junction either through Angel Flight or Charity Care Flight.  Nothing is quick about this process, but I trust it is all in God's Time.

If one is aware, looking for little miracles, they occur daily while I have been in York.  The first sign that God takes care of even the most minor of details was when I was clearing debris from their yard; fallen branches from oak trees, trimmings from hedges that I had cut one morning, that kind of yard pollution.  As I had it in my arms wondering where to put the dead foliage and heavier bits of wood, I glanced up to see the City Of York and three of its heavy duty front load hauler trucks one house down from where I stood, laden with wood pieces that had been torn from trees and bushes. As I walked with this load to the street where the trucks were slowly making their way toward me, the equipment operater motioned for me to drop my load in his front loader basket.  We shouted at one another, and he gave me to understand that this was the annual city pick up for trees and branches left on the curb.  I simple dropped my load into that container and away went the truck to the next house for the next load. Phillipians 4:19 says:

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. 

What a concept.  Two other minor amazements have occurred this week, which also tells me that God is on the watch, supplying answers to questions before they have even been asked.

My new mantra is "IDK" meaning "I Don't Know" which is my standard reply to most questions asked of me.  When is Julie going to Grand Junction?  How are her wounds doing?  When will the house sell? When is their house going on the market?  When will you be appointed Personal Representative for Jack?  When for Julie?  When can you pay off their outstanding bills?  How are you going to get their specialized van sold? When are you going home to Colorado? How is Julie really coping with being a young widow?  

All questions are asked with true concern, but I just do not have any answers yet.  Sometimes I almost yell out " I Don't Know!" but most recently I can more calmly mouth or in sotto voce simply reply "I D K."  It is my most recent coping mechanism.  That and discarding trash.  What a sense of accomplishment to put something in a rubbish can and be done with it, never more touching the object or thinking of the consequences surrounding that discarded item.

House update: Pure & Simple and its owner Jennifer, will be here later this morning.  She is turning all the knick knacks, furniture, appliances and household items into sale items for the Estate Flash Sale scheduled May 23-24.  She is an energetic young woman sailing around the premises on angel wings, directing her staff and readying the house for a clear-out.  

Now is time to put away the coffee cup, finish up this post, retrieve clothing from the dryer, shower and put away personal items so that Jennifer will not tag and price them for sale.  I will be on my way shortly to see Julie and stay out of the way of Pure & Simple personnel.  

(the house that Jack Built in 2003 in York, SC, now "The Estate")

A Life Remembered

It was a matter of life, then death.  My son in law Jack, semi-professional photographer, amateur astronomer, teacher for remedial students for eleven years, rock hound, punster, and husband to daughter Juliet for 18 years, died suddenly of heart failure on April 29. Within minutes Pastor Jeff Lingle sped to their home and was with Julie.  Friends stayed with Julie in York, SC (she is bedridden) until I could get to York.  Within 12 hours after Jack died, my brother John and I were able to be with Julie.

Like Julie, Jack also was born with spina bifida.  They shared common physical problems but they were not alike in age.  Jack was born in 1947. Julie was born in 1970.  That 23 years of age separation was never a handicap.

He lived to the fullest, and then God must have decided it was time for him to take eternal rest.  I think he just wore out.

Jack had one leg removed in 1998 after a four month hospitalization in Grand Junction, CO where they were living at the time.  But that did not slow down his arms propelling his wheelchair, kept in motion as he attended church events, fairs, museums, dance recitals, all the while keeping his camera shutter blinking open and closed, recording events in the lives of others.

When my brother and I were with Julie in those three days after Jack died, we breathed deeply and kept moving on with things. Then on the fourth day after Jack died, Julie had another medical crisis necessitating an ambulance ride to Piedmont Medical Center in Rock Hill, SC where she remains presently, being treated for pressure wounds. 

The physician in charge knows how important it is for Julie to attend Jack's funeral today, and the medical village attending to her in hospital has gathered round and all are working in their own special ways to get her a two hour suspension from the confines of her hospital bed so that we can drive her to Charlotte, NC to see Jack's casket lowered back into the earth. Ecclesiastes 3 will be read, at her request.  There is a time and season for everything, and this was his time to die.  It will be a hard day.  Your prayers for Julie are appreciated.

The end of this week contains many appointments for helping get their affairs settled and toward the ultimate goal of getting Julie back to Grand Junction and settled there into Mesa Manor, a skilled nursing facility.

Until I write again, God be with you and keep on with the enjoyment of what you like to do. Smell those lovely spring flowers, enjoy the rain and sun, wind and sky.  I am doing the same.

During natural disasters two enemy animals
will call a truce, so during a hurricane
an owl will share a tree with a mouse
and, during an earthquake, you might find
a mongoose wilted and shivering
beside a snake. The bear will sit down
in a river and ignore the passing salmons 
just as the lion will allow the zebra
to walk home without comment.
I love that there are exceptions.
At funerals and weddings, for example,
the aunts who never speak nod
politely to one another. When my mother
was sick even the prickly neighbors
left flowers and cakes at our door

"Natural Disasters" by Faith Shearin from Telling the Bees. © Stephen F. Austin State University Press, 2015

Only the Necessary

Going through my closet, discarding clothing and deciding that I need only a dress or two, a funeral dress or a party dress, for both are indeed the same, decisions were made.  Good Will received a portion, but the garbage pile also took on am embarrassingly large accretion of tee shirts.  Today's wardrobe, for me, consists of pants, long in winter, cropped in summer, and long flowing tops of linen or cotton.

So why on earth did I still hang on to that suit jacket from 15 years ago?  I will never again have an office job, nor will I ever don that expensive wool suit, for I am not of that generation, although time and age is creeping me onward.

A man who has at length found something to do will not need to get a new suit to do it in; for him the old will do, that has lain dusty in the garret for an indeterminate period.[....] I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes. If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes. All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be ... Henry David Thoreau

For I have found something to do, something to love, something to look forward to and some place to be in my old and comfortable clothing.  Gardening, volunteering, reading, writing and painting need only replacement items.

Even our dead wood and other debris placed on our front curb, set out for the annual "Fresh as A Daisy" pickup by the city, funded by tax dollars, was eschewed by several clunker type bashed up pickups.  This was after the old wrought iron paraphernalia and plastics were previously snatched by recyclers seeing gold in our discards.

One decision made last summer regarding our garden was that I would never purchase an accessory for the outside that was not made from natural materials: iron, clay, stone, rock, wood are all acceptable.  Look what I found yesterday while clearing off fallen leaves from our cottonwoods.  It is a tree stump hollowed out over the years by little ants (carpenter ants?) that turned the wood into "frass," something that looks like sawdust.  When I moved the stump and turned it over, the bottom portion turned out half eaten and decayed, a perfect place for planting pansies.  How fortunate when turned upside down, a lucky benevolence!

And now nary a piece of plastic to show in the wildflower garden!

This week a friend whose husband recently passed away gave me a polished rock from his collection.  He was a lapidarist with a massive collection of rocks and equipment that she donated to Ft. Lewis College in Durango where he taught for over two decades.  

This rock has snails embedded in the fossil.  I looked it up and found it is called an "ammonite" and the snails could have lived as long as 415 million years ago.  I am wearing it today and thinking of her and her lovely garden.

My last writing class in April 28, and I will have some readings to share during May.  And for all you Garrison Keillor fans of "A Prairie Home Companion," Sharon Olds will be on his show tomorrow evening, April 25, live from Town Hall.  We have read some of her work in our writing classes, so I am looking forward to hearing her.

Measure Twice

After watching a YouTube tutorial by Irmgard Rawn, I decided to paint a rose in watercolors in an impressionistic manner.  Or two or three, or maybe even a whole bunch.  They turned out pretty well, so I recycled a matt, glass and frame to use as a wall hanging.

But I cut the danged watercolor paper too short to correctly fit inside the matting.

So now I will cut up all the roses on the paper and use them for note cards.  And I will start over on another painting, this time ensuring the size will correctly fit into the matt before cutting the completed watercolor.

This was 140# paper, soaked for 15 minutes prior to stretching.  The predominant color is "Opera," which gives a punch to the usual pinks.  Although Irmgard produced a magnificent piece, and mine won't compare, that is really not what painting is about.  Let's put it another way: painting is all about what makes one happy.  The roses made me happy.  And I get to try again and make even more impressionistic roses, and perhaps they will actually get framed.  We shall see.

My friend PomPom whose blog can be accessed here, talked about slicing up lemons, layering them with sugar and refrigerating them until the juices seep out sweetness.  A friend of hers from the Ukraine taught her that trick; I did just that a few minutes ago and cannot wait until this afternoon to try some in iced tea.

Happy spring, all!  Time to go play pinochle and have coffee with friends.

Watermelon Socks?

Have you heard of picture yarn?  Well, Abi Grasso from Colorado Springs dyes it up in all kinds of colors with graphics that make pictures when knit.  She has an Etsy shop here.

Example: my watermelon socks

A neat trick, and the pictures are either closer together or conversely, further apart, given the size needles you use for knitting.  At one time, Abi dyed Santa Claus yarn, but it is not available this time of year.

This watermelon yarn was knit on size 1 needles and I was oh, so careful, to make the stripes match up because that is my OCD (my little tiny problem) that comes out in my knitting.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Elise working on a new website for The Grand Junction Brush and Palette Club.  We put together pictures but we need many more for greater punch to show off this club.  It looks like only my photos are on there now, because others have not yet sent theirs in.  This is where you can see the Brush and Palette new website.  

Next week's program on April 16 at the Artist's Haven in Grand Junction will be a not-to-miss activity with Jim Brock.

He says:

My work is accomplished for its meditative possibilities. It is reflective of my interest in contemplative art that explores nature´s dualities, serendipitous qualities, and inherent spiritual mystery. 

There are three things that my work is teaching me – what to paint and what not to paint, when to start and when to stop, and when to have at it alone and when to ask for help – all dual, serendipitous, and spiritual.

Jim Brock 

Easter Eggs Dyed with Nail Polish

Scouting around on Pinterest, I found an easy way to color hard boiled eggs for Easter decorations.

Steps for a DIY project that literally takes only a minute!

• hard boil some eggs
• add water to within an inch from the brim in a throw away cup
• add glops of old nail polish in all the colors you have accumulated (yes, go ahead and splurge and use your new colors, too)
• the colors do not mix, kinda like oil and water won't mix, don't worry
• put an egg in the water, roll it around and voila! the shells take on the nail polish
• use a plastic spoon to remove your egg from the water
• put your colored eggs on a paper towel to dry
• discard your throw away cup

A fun and easy project!!

More: Owl, Bowl, Pause in Lent

Olly is back, but too frightened for me to get a better picture of him. This was as good as it happens on zoom lens. He is present only in the early morning, before sunrise; our neighbor says he is likely inside the box sleeping during the day.

Just the moment I got a bit nearer and steadied the camera on the fence railing, as I peered into the camera for a snap, he was gone.

More fabric bowls finished yesterday in prettier fabrics:

:

Today is Palm Sunday and I join in with Floss in A Pause in Lent, where Henri Nouwen's comments can be seen here on Path to Writing.

Fabric Bowls and Laundry Line

As usual, when Elizabeth posted her pretty fabrics bowls here on Washing-Line Tales, I had to copy her and make a fabric bowl also.  Monkey see=monkey do.

I had a bit of trouble envisioning how to start off the center part, but Link #6 below from Crafty Stylish gives a good picture of the beginning of the vortex of covering the laundry line.

Using up odd bits of fabric from the closet and discarding the rest, it was a good way to not only have fun seaming up a quick bowl, but it helped in de-cluttering pieces of fabric previously used in Liturgical Art projects.

These links will give you all you need to know about how to make a fabric bowl if it does not come to you intuitively. Links will also lead you to some very pretty bowls made by other bloggers.

1 here (Mrs. Tittlemouse)
2 here (Radiant Home Studio)
3 here (Pretty Prudent)
4 here  (This Year's Dozen) explains continuous strips and a button decoration idea
5 here  (Cynthiaf) her dog sports one of her bowls on his head, sweet!
6 here for Crafty Stylish
7 here for Craftsy coils at the end
8 here  Wikihow shows the zig-zag stitch in detail

Besides reading and learning from the links above, my further suggestions include the following:

Cutting the strips of fabric about 1.25 inches wide on the bias makes twisting the fabric around the laundry line much easier and cleaner looking

Use a cording foot; my trust old Pfaff machine came with one in its box of attachments

use coordinating fabrics (I did not, so the resulting bowl looks like it was made out of Depression era materials)

Take your time and enjoy the process!  It took me about two hours total to make a bowl out of half a package of $5 cotton laundry line purchased from True Value Hardware

Find a decorative piece of jewelry or crochet a flower to cover the ending tale of the bowl

Now go out and do as I say, not as I do!

Spring Luck

As I have previously said, Jeans Knitting is one of the first reads of the morning when sitting in my chair, or actually my husband's chair, after I get up and turn on the fire and have coffee in hand.  She blogs daily and wakes me up with her perspective on her coming day.  Jean makes lists of things that she needs to accomplish that day. And updates me, for of course she is writing to me from Edinburgh, telling in her quaint ways of what on her yesterday's list was accomplished and what yet needs to be finished from her uncompleted list.  Most days she gives herself  a 100 percent rating, but a few times she laments that she was just too tired to finish one or two of her self assigned tasks.

Seems I follow Jean closely because I think of her as my one-generation-older friend who is keeping it together in her own way.  So maybe a list is the thing to keep in the forefront of my mind as I try to age with grace and wisdom.

So back to Jean's list, or my list, for the day.  Half of her day seems to involve taking care that her octogenarian, somewhat cranky husband, as she gets his lunch and keeps his writing files in order. That part of my day, compared with hers, does not exist, since my husband is in a reverse role with his own mother and ensuring she is fed and watered,  Although she still lives independently, except for not driving and having severe macular degeneration and not being able to read much or change the time on the clock or figure out how to order on Amazon.  But he needs no care whatsoever, other than being listened to, and occasional affectionate words and kisses.

Then Jean's list goes on to her knitting.  My, what a knitter she is, even to the point of designing her own laces and looking into software to aid in her motif designs.

My knitting, sorely neglected as of late, consists of this pair of socks on the needles, using picture yarn.  Google it and you will see clever yarns that have been mathematically designed to create pictures within the pattern, no matter the gauge you are using.  Here is a picture of my watermelon socks.  Notice those little black dots of color that play into the reds for the seeds within.

these are The Perfect Fit Socks, Abi Grasso Etsy Shop yarn


On the cooking front, two recipes I made this weekend are absolutely the best: carrot cake and hush puppies.

No pictures, but the carrot cake was found here, originally published by Southern Living. It has the usual suspects in the batter of grated carrots, crushed pineapple, with a little surprise of coconut.  We liked it, the neighbors liked it and I am serving it to friends today at coffee and tomorrow (frozen, but thawed) to the pinocle card group.

I was looking for an old fashioned sweet hush puppy like my grandmother used to make, but times have changed and what I found was from Paul Prudhomme, found here. We had fried trout with the couture hush puppies. Those puppies have onion, green onion tops, red pepper and only one egg, but after setting for a couple of hours in the fridge, the juices from the vegetables incorporate themselves into the flour and cornmeal and give an excellent texture. Beware these pups are fried, and I used only a film of grease, but they soaked up every bit of that canola oil. Not low calorie, but delicious. (And I did not find one recipe that called for just cornmeal, flour, egg and sugar, like Mom used to make.)

Saturday, I thought I was buying plain ol' johnny jump-ups for a splash of blue color on the patio while waiting for anything to rear its pretty head from the cold soil.  When I got home, I looked at the label more clearly after planting it and was happily surprised to learn I had purchased Rock Cress Axcent Lilac plants, a perennial.  What luck!  I needed new perennials.

The husband reminded me of what Garrison Keillor said:

“Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known. ” 
― Garrison Keillor, Lake Wobegon U.S.A.

If you are following Angela in A Pause in Lent, I have written a piece on Path to Writing concerning what I heard yesterday in church since we are just two weeks away from Easter.  (It is under revision, in case you click on it and do not see it.)

Have a great week, and haste ye back in a few days to see the laundry line bowls in progress, thanks to the tip from Elizabeth, seen here when she writes about Washing-Tale Lines.

Odd How Colors Play in Spring Time

The finished tetraptych does look bright when photo-shopped together:

(panels 10"x 30", acrylics)

But this is how it looks on the walls, with northern light the sole illumination in the room:

If the lamp between the chairs were lit, it would create even more of a glare in the photograph. Colors are still somewhat underplayed with help from natural lighting.

In the evening, after the sun has retired from its day duty, the colors on the panels are still somewhat subdued.  I like how the cottonwood trees living in the background of the glass mimic the painted tree branches with differing background colors.

"Spring" from Camille Gotera:

When the cold, harsh winter has given its last breath,
When the sky above shows life instead of death,
When the claws, reaching to the frozen sky becomes decorated with
leaves,
When the animals-long in hiding- scurry from trees,
We know winter has ended.

Source

Joining in with PaintPartyFriday!