Rag Roses

I thought when I retired, as I am sure most newly retired people do, that I was going to have time unlimited, time that was filled with a leisurely approach to all that I wanted to accomplish. Well, granted I'm not so much a leisurely person, I still thought my life would slow down and I would have ample time and space for all. This is just so not true!! I often think it is time to retire from retirement, as this is so frequently tire-ment or day by day, retire-ment. I do not mean to complain, as I LOVE retirement; time spent with my grandkids; time in the garden (despite the weeds racing ahead of me); time for the vineyard; time for biking; time for cooking and baking; time for writing; time for friends; time in the workshop, weaving, sewing, creating.

I can honestly say I am not 'tired', but I do feel crunched and often have to leave something out of my day that I long to have done, for instance a bike ride. Somehow that is always the first to be left out, but that is changing today, for as I leave this computer, I am hopping on my Gary Fisher.

The latest item to emerge from my workshop is a Rya Rag-roses lampshade. I am having lots of fun weaving lampshades, and have plenty of frames still to go. I am nearly out of rag balls, so I am going to have to explore other avenues for further shades.

This is the Rya Rag-roses shade as initially completed.

This is a shot of that same shade with the addition of a tendril of leaves connecting the roses.

This looks lovely lit from underneath, but I think it is pretty as is, as well.

I'VE GOT THE BLUES....

Before getting to the Blues, below is the completed lampshade, which when placed over a bulb, lightens beautifully, any blue feeling one might have. This shade took quite a long time, and is woven on a wool warp with cotton and silk weft. I found the frame many years ago, and loved its unusual shape. One doesn't often see a rectangular lampshade anymore.

And now for the BLUES!

Way back in April I had been weaving a blue wool rug on my old Union #36 loom. I began, of course, thinking it was going to be lovely, although as I wove along, I started to see the 'rug' differently, and not altogether kindly. I plowed ahead, being unable to just hack it off, and when it was done, gloomily cut it off the loom.

Here it is just off the loom, and truly I thought it ugly. Mostly I did not like the warp-faced white showing up so strongly on the blue wool.

It sat until just last week, rolled up, forgotten and unfinished on the couch on the unused front porch. For some reason last week, I decided to return to this rug, and at least finish the ends.

And here it its, and I still don't like it very much. While I was tying and twisting the ends, my husband walked by and said, "That's beautiful!" My reply was, "I hate it."

I laid it out on my workshop floor and kept it in my mind, wanting somehow to make it into something that I did, in fact like.

I decided to put some fabrics and object on it that complimented its colors. I gave some thought to turning it into a wall hanging. Mmmmmmmm.....what could such a BLUE background support. I thought, perhaps the ocean. So I drew and cut out some fish templates and laid them there as well. I hunted up some beautiful Chinese silks that I had been squirreling away for years, and laid them on the rug as well.

And for several days, when I entered my workshop I saw this...and let it sit in me and peculate.

This is the hanging that was born from that prolonged thinking. The fish were assembled beforehand, each from multiple silk fabrics. After I had finished all of the fish, I laid them out on the rug and thought for another day or so.

Finally, I appliqued them to the rug. And yes, I do think it is nice now.


Some close-ups of the fish.

And though I do have lots of Blue, I don' have the BLUES anymore!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

Thinking about my father, Bartholomew John Adragna, especially today, Father's Day!
I owe so much of what I am, and so much of what I love to this man, who despite being 'on the road' as a traveling salesman so much of my youth, has left an indelible mark upon my life, my loves, and my talents, especially regarding food preparation, and creating in general.

I owe my love for and ability with food, to my father who always showed deep respect, even reverence, for the ingredients that he used. I never recall him using 'short-cut' methods, or using anything remotely ready-made. I do recall him using the freshest ingredients possible, and he always seemed to exude a love for what he was using...and for the finished products. I do not recall anything he ever made that was not beautiful and delicious, except of course for squid, which I simply could not even pick up with a fork. He never, as I recall, used a recipe, but conjured up his artistic dishes from his soul. No holds barred where food was concerned. We may have gone without a lot in our childhood, but food was never skimped upon.

I owe my love for creating to my father, whose creative outlets were food, the saxophone, and the fact that he could sing. (Unfortunately, among all of the 'gifts' that were bestowed on me, singing just was not one of them.) He couldn't help himself from creating, and he loved the process, I think even more than the end product, which is how I feel as well. Give this man an audience and a mike, and he'd bellow out a song in his beautiful, deeply rich baritone. Give him a saxophone and without the aid of sheet music, he could wail out some lonesome jazz piece or a jitterbug special. No saxophone available at some Italian wedding??? Loan him the trumpet and he'd blow you to pieces.

It has been a very long time since my father passed away as way to young a man...and though I miss him, he is never far from me, my kitchen, and my creations.

WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT

An unlikely subject for my post today....the good old stand-by Duct Tape, the standard original sliver stuff! It's multiple and varied uses touted by high school students who use it to make wallets and prom dresses, among other things.

When I was having the basement put under my workshop, I had decided to use the excavated soil to put a Kitchen Garden outside our back door. I used the cement blocks that had held up the workshop to frame this little garden, and this spring got it planted. It is coming along, though I know it will take a season or two for me to get it the way I'd like it. I have herbs planted in it, along with a few flowers and two tomato plants...so I can step out the door at dinner time, and bring a really fresh one to the salad.

The Kitchen Garden.

I planted the just about visible two tomato plants about three weeks ago.

Now this Kitchen Garden is directly in the 'road' between the deck and the dog house, the two places Sapala, our dog, spends her time. So it is not surprising that she dashes through it, top speed, several times per day, no matter the reprimands.

Two weeks ago, the plant you see below.....

...was found languidly lying on the dirt, severed at its base, except for a thread of plant fiber connecting it to the stem...and I mean the barest of fibers.

Still, I did not want to loose this plant, and although I thought it was a goner, I got the Duct Tape out, taped it back together at the base, and buried it just a bit deeper.

and much to my surprise, it took. Here is the tomato plant, none the worse for wear. To say I was surprised is to put it mildly...but grateful, as I am sure the plant is, too. Perhaps I found it at precisely the right moment, just having been severed and eager for repair, or perhaps there really are 'magic' uses for Duct Tape beyond the ordinary.



On another note or two....

two 14" x 47" table runners just completed...



and dinner last night. A spinach salad fresh from the garden, along with an omelet of asparagus also freshly picked. (My asparagus is quite prolific, and I pick nearly 2# per day, needless to say, we eat a lot of it and I give much away.)

Garden Images

There is something about a spring garden that I love, perhaps most of all the gardening season. I love the tidiness of it all; the stretch of growth you can almost see; the verdant leafs of radishes, spinach, lettuce; and the potential that is almost palpable.

...radishes, like school children, neatly rowed up...

...the ruffle-like bouquet of lettuce...

...broccoli, at the head of the class, already heading up...

...peas, so far this year, untouched by rabbits, will soon begin their climb...

...and the beans, like umbrella-ed soldiers marching not quite so straight...

...unfurling quietly, but in big ways...

...onions shooting up so straight they seem like spears...

...and just a few of the 30 tomato plants along tomato fences...

...and this one I just could not resist. I saw it at an Amish greenhouse, and left it their that day, though it was only $2.50 and already had flowers aplenty and 4 tomatoes on it. But it just would not leave my mind, nagging at me constantly, so that the next day, back I went, and here it sits, at the head of the 'class' far and away advanced...

...and the potatoes which seemed to have sprouted and pushed themselves up all in a day...

I can sit in my garden chair for a long time just being. The relationship between the plant, the soil, the sun, the rain, it is almost visible, there at the edge of sight. It seems a holy place, my garden, where nourishment of body and soul abounds.

...and last, but clearly not least, the plethora of zinnias vying for their space, I can almost see their fall presence, exploding with a profusion of colors, shapes and sizes....

I am grateful for this garden. I feel privileged to be the one tending it. I am thankful for what these plants will give to me, and pray what I give back is worthy.