Touching the Fence

 A new garden is born! I have been meaning to begin developing a serious shade area, as opposed to a small cluster of shade plants at the end of one bed. And for my birthday, I received a new hosta (Sum and Substance) and that was that! I began digging... (Doesn't look like much yet, but you'd be surprised at how many weeds and junk I pulled out. And rocks! Here's just a partial sampling:

The area that I selected for positioning the shade garden is majorly infested with poison ivy. While I have been careful (whatever that means) I invariably develop at least one case of what can only be deemed "heroic" poison ivy every year. Here's this year's offering! And of course, it's during the hottest, stickiest time of the summer, when I'm already crabby and battling evil weather. Like last Thursday. Bob and I were supposed to go to New York for a show that I am in. "Supposed to" being the operative words. Sanity prevailed as half way to the train station, I asked Bob if he thought it was totally stupid to be going into New York with storms threatening and it being just generally polluted and nasty out. We decided to not go and the skies did open and we missed nothing, except my being in an opening with 110 other artists. I'm delighted to be in the show, but feel like a minute carbuncle on the ass of the art world. Or should I capitalize that? ART WORLD. Carbuncles? You want to talk carbuncles? Just look at my arm...

 

So today I was in a foul humor, despite having several great art ideas on my morning ramble with Jules. I spent several productive hours in my studio, and still I feel sort of at odd ends. It might have been the tremendous thunder storm that we had last night. It woke both Bob and I with one of the loudest claps of thunder I have ever heard. So my present joke is about "touching the fence". You may remember that several months back, I was having a terrible day. Nothing seemed to be going well, I was out of sorts and just not my usual chipper Little Miss Sunshine self. And then I accidentally touched Maggie the Horses' electric fence. Hey Presto! It was as if a jolt from the sky re-routed my personal misaligned electrical field because everything was fine after that. (Perhaps it was a mild form of electro shock therapy?) Anyway, my standing joke now is that if the day sucks... go ahead: touch that fence!

The Whiteness of the Walls

Look! I have walls and they're painted white!
A blog posting of few words and several sundry pictures... because I'm tired! Nay, exhausted! All the schlepping and screwing and spackling and sanding then computer dilemmas that didn't want us to go online and post our progress. Days spent on ladders and in cars and trucks making endless forays to Home Depot. All the doing and wiring and then...
I have a studio.

I have switches- three way, no less (Thank you Jonathan!) (Surrounding wall not sanded yet in this photo.)
I have a fan: (well, I'd like to think I have many...)

That fan really works! It was quite hot in my studio the other day and I was worrying that the summer would do me in what with a black roof and lots of windows but the fan is super! Three speeds of air circulation and what a difference.
And I have lovely studio corners and spaces:

Look at that handsome space! I am so happy! But so tired. I'm retiring now. I have moved piles of art materials from here to there (and living room materials from there to here) and I deserve to sleep. I'm hoping to move the rest of my things in tomorrow, or maybe the next day. And  then to work!

A Rude Awakening

I can think of few more calamitous events to encounter first thing in the morning than no electricity. This is because with no electricity comes no coffee. Bob went down stairs to make our morning brew and was greeted by the apparent death of Mr. Coffee and then realized we had no power. I went outside to relieve Jules and happened to encounter our neighbor Meagan. She was also out of power (which at least answered the question of whether it was a blown fuse or neighborhood-wide). But she saved our lives by providing an already made 1/2 carafe of coffee. Yay! Hoorah for neighbors.
We in turn assisted her by schlepping buckets of water from our stream so that she could flush their toilet. (She has four children to prepare for school; I just can't imagine). Of course, after hauling seven or eight buckets of water, the power was restored. I'm not going to complain about that.
But, sadly, our Mr Coffee did die; the timing of his demise was simply a peculiar coincidence.