Speaking of the magnetic properties of water and other things

 But first the winnowed storage area 

Quite a bit of this stuff is Gary's. I've always left this door unlocked so neighbors can borrow and return tools rather than buying them. So other tools have migrated here to join mine, for the same use.

Sunday morning on the  antfree deck.

Everything's booming now and there's been rain, always a help. It's such a pleasure to just sit, look, listen, breathe.

About lucets, here's a gallery of what occurred to me just now and what happened after that. Here's the grabber just innocently hanging about.

Look at the working end

Too big for yarn, why not rags

A rag rope, wobbly first try. There are a couple of slight drawbacks, one being the grabber is designed to hold on, not let loops slip off, and another is the unwieldy length of it.  Also the size of it, which is why I tore cotton strips rather than wrangle yarn. And you need a hole to start the yarn through, so I had to improvise there. Other than that, Mrs Lincoln.

But all in all, I think this was a good adaptation. And the process, slipping loops over, is like spool knitting, except that you turn the tool a one-eighty to create each new loop.  

Now I need a real lucet. But meanwhile I made a cardboard one to try 

Notice I put the hole in the wrong place. Then I made another one higher up, and that worked better.

I need a wooden lucet, to keep the tension steady. You can see the irregular loops where the cardboard kept buckling, didn't hold tight enough. But it was okay to learn on. And with a polished wood tool, the yarn will slip over the horns better and feed through the hole smoothly.

I learned a lot from these two experiments.

Happy day everyone, learn something. I think the results are less important than the fun of trying something like this braid -making, where you're developing skills.  You're doing what people did in medieval times.  

Up at dark o'clock, and why I won't take people walking. Again.

Now and then I wake up way before dawn, ready to start the day. Today, for instance. Up at five and having coffee, reading, enjoying watching dawn break.

Of course by nine I was sleeping on the sofa. In fact most of the day, with intervals of texting, blogging and spouting. Also making lentil squash soup. Not really a morning person.

The soup was a bit low-key despite umami mixture, garlic, onions, smoked paprika, all that. Then I added cumin and tomatoes and suddenly it cheered up. I blended it then added a drop of coconut milk. Now it's really good. 

It used up some leftover red lentil croquette things in the freezer, and a butternut  squash.  It's a beautiful color, always a good point with food. And the texture works. I can't remember the ingredients of the lentil things, but they're sure to be what my mom used to call "all good ingredients" when something wasn't as good as hoped.

And I had a chat with Gary. The chocolate cake I took over the other day, enough for two, vanished fast, evidently, his guest helping. You can't go far wrong with chocolate cake.

He's at it again to get me to haul our neighbor out walking, and I said firmly fitness is something you have to do for yourself. I suggested they walk together, taking his dog. At which point he said, but I don't do that myself, don't like the cold! I guess he's happy to send his friends out though, too funny. 

And I got a walk a bit more like the usual distance, figuring if Helen doesn't get worse, okay to push a bit.  Then home to a heat pack, well, a heated rice-filled sock. I certainly feel a lot more cheerful and hopeful for doing it. Walking, not heating socks.

I need to get potting soil soon, as the longer days make it feasible to repot a couple of small plants outgrowing and exhausting their pots. One of them is Gary's tiny anthurium, which has put out a new leaf, so I'd like to encourage her.

And, hearing local friends' stories about their retirement communities and politics, reminds me that I'll do whatever it takes to stay here!

Happy day everyone. I guess soup would be a good idea for Florida friends, not just the frozen northern wastes just now. 

Sunday morning

Breakfast in bed. Hot tea from flask, fruit stuffed pita. White nectarine. 

And here's Richard Rohr's Sunday meditation. This is so exactly right for how art happens. Every word is how it goes. 

I don't need to add anything, except Go, Richard!

Yesterday's beading went till late, when tired eyes made me stop. I love the physical picking up of the beads in a string, watching them move into place when I draw on the thread. 

I'm very much liking the untamed look that's emerging. I should probably refer to it as a beaded figure rather than a doll. The language seems to push the notion of toy, not what this is at all.

This kind of work is like painting with beads, each bead in the needle a brush stroke  decision, going back in with a different color here and there, backing off to see better. Learning all the time. Letting it tell me what's next.

The head is getting more solid in my hand with the considerable weight of the glass beads. 

I'm beginning to see how the body will go. The head has a way to go yet. And I'll need to allow for the weight as I attach the body so the head stays upright. Probably a fine dowel or skewer will work.

Happy worker here, looking forward to more.

Sunday morning

 Every morning, while the kettle's boiling for tea, I step out on the patio and get that first morning breath of air, smelling of grass and damp and earth. Then I take a look around, do a bit, today tossed the last tomato plant and retrieved the pot for other use.

Here's a bramble, planted by birds out front, right next to the path, transplanted by me to the back. Fruit next year, maybe.

These few minutes each day are very calming and centering. I'm going to keep on as long as the weather is up for it. 

Then I come in to breakfast, pot of tea, toast and marmalade. Those Full English Breakfasts you read about would be an entire day's intake for me. 

Early Sunday Morning

After a night of heavy rain, this morning was all diamond studded, and full of rainbows as the sun came up.