Toe Jamb

 

Ouch! This posting starts off with a clever pun for a title. While moving barefoot from the bedroom, where I had finished a pleasant yoga session, to the bathroom- a distance of approximately eight feet- I succeeded in ramming that awkward space between my little toe and it's neighbor (ring toe?) into the jamb of the doorway. (*1) Two days later, I'm still limping. It is somewhat better, but my plans to ride my pony were hobbled by my inability to get any pair of boots on my hoof with causing excruciating pain. My old sneakers are the best I can do. I am resigned to sedentary indoor activities.

We do have a new(er) car, however, which is big news and good news! It was shockingly debilitating to be transportation-less and although helpful friends volunteered rides to stores and Insta-Cart-like experiences, we succeeded in locating a likely car rather quickly.

Hooray! We're very happy with our new red rocket, although temporarily I am unable to drive it as my right toe is part of my right foot which is required to depress the gas and brake pedals. That causes pain! But it looks good sitting in the driveway and Bob can drive it. 

In the meantime, I am eagerly awaiting the start of the seventh January 6 Select Committee hearings. It was supposed to be on at 10:00 am but got moved to 1:00 pm. At least this is something I can do while incapacitated by a swollen and painful toe. Lock him up!!!

(*1) I am aware that "toe jam" is a nasty, smelly substance that develops between the toes of unclean individuals. Fortunately, I am not one of these sufferers! And on that note, do you know anyone who admits to toenail fungus? Is this really an epidemic? Because I see all kinds of ads in magazines and on-line that want to cure it!

Remembrance of Trusty

 

This tribute is several days overdue. There is an empty spot in the driveway and in our hearts. Trusty the Accord is no more. 

Trusty was a trooper. My sister Beatrice who, with her partner John, bequeathed us Trusty several years ago, always maintained the Trusty had the quietest, most dependable engine of any car she'd known.  He always started, he ran smoothly and comfortably and had provided them with years of reliable transportation. They, in turn, took good care of Trusty and kept him running like the proverbial top. His only downfall was the inconvenient fact that people seemed to like backing into him, leaving Trusty with a curiously dented driver's side. His passenger side was unblemished. You will remark on the steel straps holding Trusty's headlight in place; Bob rigged this after we inherited him. I think Trusty viewed it sort of like an eye patch: it lent him a rakish, devil-may-care air.

 

(Oh and someone stole my WTF sticker off his bumper. Really!!?? Of all the nerve!) Trusty came to us and seemed to enjoy the change. He experienced new adventures he could never have dreamed of: transporting artwork and hay bales and an amazing assortment of plants. He always performed whatever automotive task was asked of him with good grace and humor. He did have a surprisingly impish sense of fun and was quite the joker. Beatrice had warned me that the radio was "unpredictable" and that his doors locked and unlocked with a random impertinence. He continued this practice until the day he departed.

Despite being warned by Beatrice and John's mechanic to, "Not drive to Atlantic City" (I guess he meant don't gamble or take chances...) we drove Trusty for almost four years, with only minor troubles. We recently took Trusty to Massachusetts to a friend's memorial and he performed beautifully, humming along the highway as if he'd rolled off the Honda production line yesterday. Many mechanics and auto parts salespeople attempted to buy him, remarking on just what great cars these older Accords were. But put a price on Trusty... never!

But time caught up with Trusty and his timing belt proved to be his down fall. He got us home, rolling into the driveway, delivering us safely before expiring in a billow of black smoke. As I laid a hand on his front fender one last time, I bowed my head and whispered, "Farewell Trusty! You were a good car!"

A Diversionary Post

 

Picture of me, above partially minus my head (*1), astride, as a diversion. And I may well be posting as Neko and I are at the trot- a gait to which one posts (*2). And I'm posting a post to my blog so let's discuss how confusing the English language is. Or not!

Okay, so I've established my attempts to divert my own mind away from what's seriously on it: the (not-so) supreme court. All I am going to say is I am so out of my mind in wonder and anger that the conservative majority has proven to be so radically out of step with the average American and has imposed their Draconian religious views on all of us. Did that sentence even make sense???!?! You get my point... I'm truly pissed off.

Whether it's relaxing concealed carry laws (a day after Congress passed the first (modest) efforts at gun control in a decade) or it's reversal of Roe vs Wade (a day after the fourth January 6th hearing showing The Orange Menace and CO attempts to subvert the Justice Department), the supreme court has basically affirmed Clarence Thomas' view that the people's voices just don't count.

I'm with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in saying that several justices should be impeached for lying under oath to the Senate. No one is above the law. Or so we can hope!

So there is now steam spewing from my ears and I'm probably red in the face. But I had a lovely ride and Neko and I are making fine progress together. My trainer (hello Maiya!) who took the above picture, is challenging me and helping me become a better rider. So some things in life are pleasant despite my ongoing consternation about the State of the Nation. And seeing as how our car died (*3), I may need to ride my pony into town to do the shopping.

(*1) But in riding, who needs a head? A useful equestrian adage about the proper position of a rider on a horse, "Shoulders of a queen, hands of a lady, hips of a whore". Hahhahahaha! No mention of your head!

(*2) Posting to you non-equestrians out there is the act of rising and resitting when the horse trots. You rise when the outside leg of your mount is forward and you sit when the inside leg is forward. It prevents bouncing and is easier on the horse's back. And to further complicate matters, you CAN sit the trot. Utilizing your core muscles, you can learn to absorb the bounce. Advanced dressage requires that you sit the trot but I'm not there yet!!

(*3) Yes, Trusty died. More on that in an upcoming post!

More Garden Charm!

 

Well... that picture looks sorta small and doesn't convey the extended view through the garden. It took me by surprise: I was hard at work on the back side of the Blue Garden and I looked up and realized that there is an incredibly long perspective all the way through the Blue Garden, past one of Bob's fabulous (new) sculpture, past the golden Chamaecyparis obtusa "Crippsii", past the Rosa rugosa all the way to the horse barn. Why had I never partaken of this view?

(Delphinium in a cage! It keeps them from toppling in the wind (and goodness knows we've had monster winds of late!) and it keeps Robin the Good and myself from running into them when we're at work in the garden. Gotta love that blue color!)

Probably I was too hard at work, planting, edging, weeding and generally trying to get this year's garden into shape. And I'm almost done. (*1) I have a couple of orphans still in need of the perfect home- a stray Anagallis monelli, two small cups of Morning Glories, a few other stragglers. But most of the heavy lifting is done and the garden looks pretty damned good!

An overhead picture of a cluster of containers on the corner of the terrace. Dizzying but in a good way. Oh and Happy Summer Solstice!

(*1) Ah yes! the eternal question... is the garden EVER "done"? There is- inevitably- a section that could have benefited from editing, or rethinking. My gardens always have at least one problem zone. I know the area I'm thinking of right now; not sure what to do about it. Alas!

So Busy I Forgot to Blog!

 

I suppose this is a mea culpa. Spring is a notoriously busy time for gardeners (and artists! (*1) what with buying plants, planting seeds and plants and digging out dead and dying remains of last year's gardens. When I checked my last posting, I realized it was from two weeks ago. I don't think I've ever gone this long between spurts of words.

So I am illustrating my blog with attractive pictures of what's happening here in our garden-in-progress. I mowed the lawn yesterday (beautiful weather!) and the beds- some of which I have actually weeded and edged!- are set off to perfection. Add in the misty, overcast fog of this morning and you have what looks like an English garden. Just in time for the Queen's millionth birthday or something jubilee-ish!

So while running around multi-tasking and generally moving at warp speed and trying to do everything at once, I have stopped occasionally to muse on those weird individuals who do absolutely no gardening at all. I remarked to a fellow plant-enthusiast with whom I was out purchasing horticultural delights, "Look! There's one of those exotic houses perched on a wide expanse of green lawn with nothing interrupting it! How... unusual!" Indeed, I was tempted to snap a picture to immortalize the sheer brazen nakedness of their landscape. How do they resist the urge to plant? To fill that void up with flowers and shrubs and trees... I see it as an unrealized opportunity; I guess they see it as an E-Z care, no-brainer on the order of polyester no-iron sheets or microwaveable plastic-wrapped meals. In my mind, I am laying out garden beds and designing magnificent borders. But the inhabitants of these unadorned houses are the first to exclaim, "So much work!" when they see our gardens...

Yesterday, every machine in a three mile radius was bellowing their song: weed whackers, mowers, chain saws, back hoes... nice weather and work to be done! The immediate next-door neighbors joined in with several work men accompanied by several large pieces of equipment shoveling and pushing and grading. I thought, "Hey! Maybe they've spied how lovely our yard looks and have decided to plant more attractive shrubs and ornamentals!" But what actually transpired, after the dust had settled and the workmen had departed, was that they'd had foundation plantings removed. The front of their house (*2) was stripped bare and you could now see the railings of their porch. Ironically, Bob and I had recently admired (from a distance) how pretty their full blooming red and white azaleas were... no more. Gone! I imagine they didn't want to prune or dead head.

 

In an abstract way, sort of like trying on some one else's glasses, I try and understand the urge to remove plants; to Marie Condo your garden... make it tidier, emptier and easier to maintain. But I say you can have it. I want abundance, fertility, over-blown, stuffed garden beds bristling and brimming with flowers and foliage and bugs and butterflies. Nature abhors a vacuum... and so do I!

(*1) In my own defense I am in 4 shows at present. that was a lot of finishing/getting ready/delivering to do, along with installing garden delights. I need  an assistant.

(*2) And (sorry!) their house is bland and not much to look at. Now it's even more anonymous. Sad.

It's Show Time!

 

After a two and a half year break from actual, physical, in-person art exhibits, it feels really good to be in a show at a gallery with real-life (or possibly "life-like") people in attendance. We certainly hope last night wasn't a super-spreader event, but maybe it was worth the risks.

As a friend correctly pointed out a few days ago, I have been lamenting not showing frequently enough- and then I was suddenly in three shows. Hahahaha! I guess I've been laying the groundwork; sewing up a storm and doing some out-reach and having a couple of studio visits. I have been busy and I have the minute puncture wounds all over my finger to prove it...

Above, a soft sculpture (in a private collection no less!) that's inspiring me to re-visit the word "resist". After last weeks leaked Supreme Court draft, I think at least 1/2 the population of this country should involve themselves in whatever acts of resistance they see fit. Like I intone all too frequently, DON'T GET ME STARTED!!! I am beyond pissed off, but thank goodness I can channel my rage into something productive like art. 

The piece at the top is a good case in point. "Women on Top" came about in a spontaneous self-challenge, driven by dead lines and the crazed desire to be in a museum show. Yes, when needed, I swallow everything resembling  principles and simply push myself. I really need to show my work and I really need to believe that someday, somewhere my hard work will pay off. Hahahhahahaha! That's the ringing of deranged laughter that you hear!!!

Losing your Mind While Gardening

 

Don't say I haven't been trying! It's Spring, the birds are singing, the sun is shining... and we've had nothing but incredibly strong, gusting wind for three straight days. If you dare to step outside, the wind knocks your hat off, takes your breadth away and destroys any impetus to do whatever it was that you went out to do.

 Like rake leaves? Ha! Three times I piled the leaves on my tarp and three times a bloody blast from Hell swept them up and sent them spilling all over the lawn. Reminds me of the stories of the Mistrals of France, where violent winds drive people crazy. I have an entire arms-length list of projects that are entirely on hold.

 And then the lawn men descended next door. These human locusts propel themselves back and forth over our neighbor's lawn creating a deafening roar. Only problem is that the lawn hasn't even begun to grow and what with that aforementioned wind there are clouds of dirt and dust. It now looks like a scene from The Grapes of Wrath out there.

 And to add the proverbial icing to the metaphorical cake, the air has been heavily scented with diesel fumes as one of the neighbor's kids is now driving an ancient diesel powered truck. He conscientiously allows it to warm up for fifteen or twenty minutes before driving off in a plume of acrid smoke. Typically, this coincides with my feeding my poor horses who are by now suffering from black lung, covered in dust and losing their minds due to that wind.

I'm staying inside until next month. Bye!!! (*1)

(*1) Yes! The tulips were all brought inside; they're supposed to be for Bob's birthday, but they were a bit early. Now they're exploding and shattering all over the house. We have multiple vases of them.