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!

Wall Panels in Acrylic

not finished, but hanging on the walls to mature and let the colors settle into a new environment, each panel 10" x 30", in acrylics

updated 3/19

updated 3/19/15

updated 3/19/15

updated 3/19/15

Joining in with PaintPartyFriday!

A Musing

      One goes through a lifetime very sure about one's parentage, or at least I did. You were either born to a mom and dad, or to a single mom, or you were adopted by a family who very much wanted a child because your parent or parents could not adequately care for you. And if you were not adopted, you grew up in an institution called an “orphanage,” not a preferred method of living for a child since Charles Dickens' writings and the story of Oliver often comes to mind. As a kid, I must have become aware of how children came to be in families or other various iterations of children being cared for. It is likely a prevailing world view of how children begin their lives.

     I was born in the south in the early '50's to a stay-at-home mother and a father who was farming a family dry land ranch plot outside San Angelo, Texas. My two older brothers, six and three years old at the time when I came into being, may or may not have been aware that their world would change when a new baby was brought into the house. There must have been infant crying and other demands on their mother's time which they would likely have felt as intrusive. But then again, most of the families I knew as a young girl had many siblings at home, so new babies were just a fact of life.

     Cousins, childhood friends, kids at school, in fact anyone born to a parent were all compared to their mother or dad in these terms: she/he has his mother's/father's nose, or hair color, or body structure, or temperament. My older brother was said to have my mother's artistic talents and more sensitive temperament. Our male cousins so strongly resembled their father that it was always commented on. And my mother lamented the fact that she did not inherit her mother's musical abilities for playing piano and organ. My father did not inherit his mother's musical abilities either, and could hardly carry a tune. I must say that choral singing was one of my childhood favorite past times, and I spent years singing in choirs.

     Both my brothers, as they came into maturity, had idiosyncratic ways of speaking or moving their hands in a certain way when talking that it often brought on comments, especially by mother. As in, “you look just like Charlie when you do that.” They were of similar height, too. But I was always taller than they, and I was blonde whereas they were deeply brunette with skin that easily took the sun. I always burned when outside for more than a few minutes, whereas they sported nice sun tans during the summer, like our dad.

     Fifteen years ago, as my mother was dying and when the cancer had reached deep inside her brain, she became less inhibited. Once she looked at me and said “Are you really my daughter?” I assured her I was, patting her hand and giving her consolation. But then just a few weeks before she died, she asked me if there were anything I wanted to ask her about before she was gone, while I still “had time.” I assured her that I thought we had talked everything out, and that I could think of nothing else to ask her. I prompted her and said “Is there anything you want to tell me?” but she shook her head “no.” Pushing her a little further in this direction, she again responded negatively. The moment passed.

     It was a year or two after she died that my brother and I had a conversation about this odd, amusing event of mother asking me to ask her a question. It was then that the light bulb flashed on in my subconscious. Was my father of 94 years my biological father?

     I don't know. I will never know now. Funny thing, at this point, in the grand scheme of the universe, it does not matter.

Lenten Season and New Starts

Joining in with Angela and the Henri Nouwen discussion groups, I have responded to this third Sunday in Lent, writing on this blog some thoughts about the Prodigal Son and how the elder son might have perceived being left at home.

Our church as been having soup lunches and dinners during the Lenten season, and we all pitch in and bring soup and bread after noon services on Wednesday.  Here is a recipe I have made several times, and it is a pretty darned tasty crock pot recipe:

On the painting front, I am in the throes of creating four panels, 10"x 30" each.  The term, according to Wikipedia is a "tetraptych."  It will be of a tree, in four colors.  Here is the first panel:

then again on the wall in the living room to see how the greens look against the peach colored paint on the walls...

 

Have a great week and make some delicious soup!

Mereta, Texas and a Cardboard Box

It appears that I have abandoned this blog in favor of Path to Writing, but alas, that is not the case. Seems that  now I am spending more time for my class with writer Sandra Dorr.  And it also occurs to me that I have not shared a picture that my talented brother and commercial artist Charles H. McCarroll put together some years ago of the farm house where we spent our formative childhood years in Mereta, Texas, dry farm land in Central Texas.

Here is his rendition of our farm in mixed media:

... this is my rendition of the farm house in watercolor (yes, it was a pink house)

I wrote about a corrugated refrigerator box where I made-believe when I was five years old.  It can be read here if you are interested, which is a stretch of the imagination, even for me.

Brush & Palette Club

Yesterday was the second demonstration of the year for the Brush & Palette Club in our town. Dani Tupper showed her techniques of applying watercolor paints diluted with water, using spray jars filled with the watered paints. She introduced, new to me, the idea of using spray webbing over her paper.  She said one could also use the Halloween type webbing available in bags at hobby stores around that season, and that it would give the same effect.  She would pull apart that type webbing and cover the paper with the wispy material prior to applying the paints. 

Tupper applied spray webbing (available online) to the 140 lb. Arches watercolor paper, securing it onto her paper with tacks.  Then over the webbing she sprayed on her colors, allowing them to dry. The webbing was then pulled off the paper, and various pools of color emerged with textures giving differing effects.  

You can access Dani here at her home website and see some of her beautiful works.

Below is one of her paintings in process.

Linking with Fiber Arts Friday and Freshly Finished Fridays, I have made several crochet book covers for writing journals.  The inside of this one uses Mardi Gras material in like colors of purples and greens and blues. The flap is convenient for holding my mechanical pencil.

The journal cover is an idea with some directions given on Elizabeth's blog, and she even has one featured on Google images.  I tried to channel her crochet talent, but did not end up with one nearly as pretty as hers using granny squares shown here.

I leave you with lemon yellows and pictures of a pie and lemon water from organic lemons shipped from a Florida backyard directly to friend Norma, who shared some with me.  When one is given lemons, after all, one MUST make a pie.  This one I made just before Brush & Palette Club, and it haunted me throughout the demonstration.  It had to be tasted (after dinner of pot stickers, I must say it was pretty palatable).

Ending the Day in Arizona

This evening I am writing from Tempe, in a rather chilly hotel room.  I can't seem to get the temperature just right, as it seems either too hot or too cold.   The regulator is set to 74 degrees but it seems confused.  So the fan is blowing away.  It will make a nice white noise for sleeping.

The Scrabble tournament is finished and sweet friend Linda came in first place in our division.  I fared rather poorly while having a strenuous time of it.  I'll show you a picture of one of my games after its completion.  The fun part of it was my opponent, Erik, made a most excellent find when he put down the word " birdcage" and then my next move after that was "bird" because it looked symbiotic.  Not many points, however. 

Erik won the game.

After the tourney ended this afternoon, Linda and I took a metro bus northwards and saw the Phoenix Botanical Gardens.  It was beautiful weather for viewing cactus.

Chihuly glass purchased for their gardens on permanent display.

We had a nice lunch at Gertrude's.  Home tomorrow.