1... 2... 3... Green Door!

I did it! I painted the "front" door green! Bob had gotten the paint a while ago and inspiration seized me yesterday after lunch. It changed the mood of that whole side of the house.
So now we have:
One door, two door.
Red door:

Blues door!

Festive, silly, cheerful and helpful seeing as how we have no real "front" door; they're all on sides of the house and we're not clear which is properly to be considered the front.
But watch my next blog posting to see what the simple act of painting the door green caused. Sort of a snowballing of events, opening up all sorts of new possibilities!

Wrong Color!

(Gee, it looks better here! Oh well...)
Bob and I bought paint to redo the upstairs bathroom three months ago.After months of pinning paint samples to the walls and considering and re-considering we arrived at a consensus and purchased the paint. I am sure we all know how tough it is to determine the best pigment based on a tiny paint sample... But I was optimistic and awaited the perfect day to apply it. Lord knows it's been hot and humid and not great painting weather this summer.
So last week, Bob held his finger to the wind and declared that TODAY was the day: nice and breezy and dry so that you could air out the upstairs and the paint would dry quickly and thoroughly. I set to work.
And there is always waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more prepartion needed than you remember. You have to get the actually applicators and stirrers and pans and you need a screw driver to prise the lid off the can. Not to mention moving everything off the sink and the racks and out of the room. And then you need a step ladder; yes, it takes a while to prepare!
Finally, I began painting. I felt less and less sure as I went because it just looks so light.

See? Here it looks almost white! It's not a bad color, but I wanted one room in the house to have a saturated hue. The whole house is white!! I think I wanted a more "Wedgewood Blue": that is, a blue that has more grey to it... we'll live with the color as is for a while. At least it's clean!
                                                      
 In the meantime, Bob has become inspired to make us lovely and functional towel racks. We have had a stupid plastic one that was never correctly anchored to studs in the wall- that's what those holes are above. (Bob is spackling the holes with a unique way of securing the spackle when there is no stud behind. He has a small metal disk, to which he has affixed a string that holds the disk flat when the spackle is applied... neat!) Besides, we never had hooks or a rack on the door so we were limited as to where to hang towels or clothes. I can't wait.
So again, at least progress has been made. Maybe the color will grow on me; I think Bob is more sanguine about it than I am. It's a big step in the right direction!


                                                         


                                                             

New (Garden) Rules!!

Echoing the phrase "My House (or Barn or Studio or What Have You) My Rules", I am hereby asserting "My Garden, My Rules". There are only a few- and they are simple- but from here on in, these are the Rules:

1.) Please do not visit my garden and point to my Tithonia, (or Brugmansia or Cimicifuga et al) and say, "Gee I have that but it's three times bigger!" It's like penis size; make no comparisons. Maybe my insects are bigger than yours.

2.) If you spot a weed, please don't tell me. Chances are I know it's there and simply haven't removed it yet. Or, feel free to pull it up and compost it yourself. I appreciate the help.

3.) If some poor plant looks parched and in need of water, again, please don't moan to me about it. I  am probably tired of tripping over and dragging that hose (it weighs more than I do!) around the yard. Or I have become thirsty myself and put my needs before the plants. There are plenty of watering cans available and a deep well. Water that thing yourself.

4.) If there are holes in the leaves of my plants, please (again ad nauseum) keep it to yourself. Yes, I probably have some bugs and slugs but I refuse to spray and I hand pick as much as I care to- which may not be as often as you and your higher standards demand. Holes can be a decorative addition (or subtraction) from a leaf and just think of it as filigree.

5.) And finally, ENJOY my garden as just that- MY garden. I think it's super and while I may not do things the way you do, you needn't worry about it. You can admire mine for what it is (or isn't) and then go home to your garden and admire that, too. It's great that we all do things differently and have different standards; it's what make me me and you you.

Crabby Muses Dig Bigger Holes!

Look at the color of these portulaca! They've outdone themselves. I purchased them as a sort of impulse while shopping for doggie chew bones at a local discount store, thinking to have them supplant the expiring violas in the two containers by the front/side door. Holy cow; they've really repaid my investment. Here's one of the two containers:

There's also a hefty coleus and Japanese ornamental corn in the mix. I'm more than happy with the overall planting, which is a good thing as I'm not happy with much recently and that's made my muses crabby.
Gardening has been a healing force or energy in my life so many times previously. Whenever the world seems out of control or just amazingly fucked up, gardening has been there for me. I guess it's as simple as urging pretty things to grow; color, texture, smell... all of that reward for coaxing seeds and cramming annuals into tight spaces! It's also a way fro me to be creative without the expectations and demands of art making.
Don't get me wrong- they are very different impulses. But sometimes while in my studio, I can be overwhelmed with the "weight of the world" and feel awash in cosmic junk. Mass shootings, a government run amuck, child sex predators (good riddance Jeffery Epstein!)... good grief! People can really suck! And that's just the external stuff. I have the internal voices yodeling along, complaining about the perfidy of the "art world". The "why am I not rich and famous?" Or even, "why am I not famous?" (fuck the rich part!!) It can feel very dispiriting to keep making the best work that you can, really pour your heart/mind/soul into producing rigorous art and still feel like you're screaming into a giant vacuum. And creeps like Jeffery Epstein and The Orange Menace are rich and powerful... (until they're not, I guess!)

Anyway, that's part of the reason I spend a lot of time gardening. It quiets all the noise that raves and rages inside and out. I spend a good deal of time, now that it's a bit cooler, digging up a new-ish area and moving some things around and planting birthday gifts. It's felt so good and I find myself humming tunelessly to myself as my muses and I trench out big holes.

A Brief But Heartfelt Post

Right now I am not happy with people. We have had several mass shootings: one (in El Paso Texas) being handled as a hate crime (as opposed to a "love crime"? Most crimes seem to involve hate!) by a guy who felt that Texas was being invaded by immigrants. The other (in Dayton,Ohio) seems to have been committed by (another) young white guy who had a "hit list" and a "rape list". Nice young man! And there was a shooting last night in Chicago- maybe not quite as splashy, but people are dead.
And don't get me started on the glib rethuglican responses of "thoughts and prayers" and video games being responsible and questions of mental illness. The rethuglicans need to grow up and take responsibility.
I had to suffer through some of the scripted remarks recited by The Orange Menace. I'm so cynical about the rethuglican comments on gun violence; it makes me gag. The same platitudes are invoked and there was some weird mention of "their deaths won't be in vain". WTF?!?!? These poor people were shot while buying socks and underwear at WalMart, or enjoying a night out with friends. Of course their deaths are in vain. They died because our country is too stupid and corrupt to pass meaningful gun laws.
And this was going to be a happy post about nice plants growing in our lovely garden and how happy I was to spend the day on Saturday designing and planting a whole new area. Instead, we finished up the day with the news of 20 people dead in Texas (and of course, the death toll has now risen to 22.)
I'm not going to spend time dwelling on the idiotic rethuglican (woman!) who ranted about the causes of this violence being gay marriage, drag queens, fatherless families and marijuana. Really? How about the vile anti-immigrant rants of The Orange Menace; the "leader" of our country who smirked when someone at one of his truly terrifying rallies suggested "shooting them" as an answer to immigration issues? The El Paso shooter obviously heard that suggestion.
And how come the rethuglicans have such a hard time admitting that the problem IS guns? The ease of getting one, the fact that almost any asshole can buy an assault rifle... why is the idea of a background check or a gun registry so appalling to rethuglicans?
I know several one issue voters and guns is that issue. They intone their 2nd Amendment "right" and think their wish to have "fun" reducing targets or animals or people to hamburger should trump someone else's wish to stay alive. We'd better do something fast but I know we won't.

Snakes 'n' Scammers

This "attractive" fellow was lying in the grass near one of our compost piles, but I didn't have my contact lens in so I thought it was a heap of horse poop. Hahaha! Good thing I had the presence of mind to go in the house and insert my contact lens before attempting to heave him onto the compost! I did grab the camera and document him (or her) and go back into the house and onto the computer to identify the particular variety of snake (especially not wanting to disturb this individual if it proved to be potentially poisonous.) I am confident in reporting that- although ugly- it is a harmless snake, most likely a water snake. (There were many of these snakes at a garden I took care of one summer. Nasty things! They were sufficiently long and intimidating so that if one was "sunning" itself on the stone steps behind the house, I was forced to circle the entire house to gain access to the upper garden.)
But alas, there are human "snakes" a few of which feature in the next discussion...
Bob and I told friends that we were making (another) trip to the New York Botanic Garden to deliver an order of Bob's metal work. We always look forward to these trips as Bob's contact there provides us with free passes and we get to see whatever special exhibit is featured. The friends in question asked what route we took. They expressed horror when we outlined the highways we have (successfully) traveled many times now, telling us that these roads were off-limits to trucks and commercial vehicles and that hefty fines were levied on the drivers that violated these statutes. They said that we had been lucky to have evaded the law for so long.
Chastened, we took the advice offered and plotted another course, which looked direct enough. I was feeling perturbed, as we'd managed to get this route down and were sanguine about reaching our destination- not always the easiest thing when navigating our way into New York. Anyway, we gamely made our way, finding the first two connections easily... until we got lost. There was simply no sign  that announced the particular road we were looking for (even though it had shown up on our computer at home). We went too far, almost winding up in Manhattan. We back tracked and took the only exit that made mention of the botanic garden and The Bronx Zoo, which is close by. Suffice it to say that once off the highway, we got even more lost as there was a single sign pointing us vaguely easterly and then abandoning us. I tried pulling up maps on my phone but seemed to get nothing but gibberish and Pokeman. Here comes the fun part.
We were stopped at a busy intersection when a man called out, "Hey! Your hood is open!" We were already moving but Bob and I looked at each other and agreed we'd better pull over and check it out. This being NYC, we had hit several heroic pot holes and certainly the hood could have come unlatched. As Bob pulled the truck into a conveniently broad sweep of street shoulder, a man approached (a bit too well timed?) and said, "Hey! there's smoke pouring out of your engine!" Yes, in retrospect, it seems pretty obvious what was happening, but at the time- after being lost and turned around and anticipating engine disaster- we got out and cracked the hood while the "helpful" good Samaritan said, "Oh hey, you're really lucky this didn't happen on the highway. You cold have blown your whole engine!" as he helpfully offered to add anti-freeze. Then he made a big deal of rolling under the truck and exclaiming as how our "engine pin" had loosened and he'd tighten it...* this is where Bob and I simultaneously realized that there had been no smoke, or over heating or smell and the truck had been running just fine. I said, "Thanks; we'll just call AAA", but our patron saint persisted and said as how we should give him $60 for "fixing" our truck. Bob and I (feeling pretty stupid and just wanting to get the fuck out of there) exchanged glances and gave the guy $20 and drove off, being lucky that that was all it cost. (In fairness, it was a very busy major road, not some back alley so we were reasonably safe. But good heavens! This snake extorted $20 from a couple of artists! Go pick on someone else!!!) Then we figured out that the guy in the car at the intersection was in cahoots with our "impromptu mechanic": a setup!

Anyway, we finally made it to the Botanic Garden and had a lovely time strolling the amazing tropical plants and exotic installation that replicated a Brazilian garden as envisioned by Roberto Burle Marx. It was spectacular enough that we had a splendid time and enjoyed the rest of our visit. Needless to say, upon leaving, we reverted to the former route that we had safely traversed many times. And except for getting stuck in a major traffic jam and crawling slowly home once over the Connecticut line, nothing else happened.

* Bob reminds me that this guy had his schtick down pat! He asked if we had a rag and proceeded to offer the wetness of it as evidence that our engine was leaking (this was after he wet it with anti-freeze.) I actually think that if he hadn't gotten so carried away with his own multitudinous details, he would have been more convincing. I mean, if you suspect something is truly wrong with your vehicle, you often don't know where to begin diagnosing it. But there was smoke and leaking and an "engine pin" (when I realized he was a scammer!) and a few other problems!

Happy Birthday to Me

Here's a picture of my delicious birthday pie! Blueberry... my favorite (well maybe tied with peach!) and made with fresh blueberries plucked from our own berry bushes early yesterday morning. Maybe it turned out a bit on the tart side (Bob maintaining that it needed a pinch more sugar) but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
And I received lovely gifts from Bob and a million and ten birthday greetings on Facebook (everybody's favorite!)  and a number of thoughtful actual physical birthday cards- I'm very happy. Except that the weather sucked and we spent the day huddled in the air conditioned bed room, emerging only for refills of cold drinks and the occasional ill-advised trip outside to experience what life on Mars or Venus is like.
My birthday is typically hot 'n' humid but this heatwave is exceptional. We actually cancelled my family's celebration at our house because it was either sit in the driveway in Beatrice and John's new car with the air conditioning blasting (worrying about getting frosting on the immaculate interior) or hunkering together in the bed room (the only air conditioned room in the house) which would be awkward. Outside really was not a possibility and we had originally considered grilling: unimaginable!
So at last the hideous weather has broken and it's expected to rain late today into tomorrow. That's a good thing as plants and grasses were stressing in the garden and we were stressing in the house. I felt badly for poor Maggie the Mexican Pony (yes, she's still with us) who stood stamping flies in her stall. She was downright giddy the cool of this morning, breaking into a wonky trot when I fed her her breakfast grain.
Let's trust teh improved weather will last!