Showing posts with label Emma Mitchell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emma Mitchell. Show all posts

Friday, July 19, 2024

We need good things to look at and eat right now

 



photos Emma Mitchell, brain function researcher and silversmith. She explains that looking at nature, in life or pictures, resets the brain, and is an antidote to stress.

About fiberarts and weaving and thinking



And here's Misfits, which arrived while I was out walking, the weather having cooled to the 80s, heat index only(!) 94°f.




Unboxed, with tomatoes, cheese and eggs for hot weather minimal effort food 

And a still life composition, 
with plums, cherries and potatoes, on linen 

Still life, with its meaning of the fleeting nature of life and the inevitable decay, is a great art form where your model becomes your dinner.

The cherries, with a cheese sandwich, were great for lunch.

Happy day everyone, don't believe what you read anywhere just now. Except here. I'm unbought. 

Friday evening is the fundraising online speaking engagement, so my magic shuttle is getting its warp all tangled with nervousness. I've done this so many times, but it's always about stage fright.

Update on Gary: surgery  done Thursday afternoon, and he seems to be doing well. 





Monday, June 17, 2024

Freecycle, posies and other small things

I'm still winnowing. Art this time. From up in the loft. I've put these on free cycle, in hopes.  They're all framed and wired. That might be an attraction in itself.










One of the cutting things people do, sometimes innocently, is to ask about the frames. Not the art. But I'm not bitter.

And speaking of tiny tasks you finally get around to, the yellow skirt I made a while back, with patch pockets, needed a little something. The fabric is so soft the pockets kind of flop a bit. I've been thinking for, maybe a year mphm mphm, about running elastic along the tops to fix that.

This morning I finally got the skirt out and  found I'd done a really good job, making the pockets of double fabric. Not a hem I could open. Oh. Then I remembered I'm in my pleat period. Bingo. One little pleat in the top of each, nice design touch, and functional. Total time elapsed including finding thread and needle, five minutes.  

You could, of course, say the time elapsed since I first noticed the flopping was vital to the elegance of what now looks like an easy fix. In fact, I think that's what I will say.

And Emma Mitchell has produced a whole array, heck, a panoply, of tiny posies for our mental health.


Happy day, everyone, put your best descriptive foot forward. Nobody else will do it for you.






Friday, March 15, 2024

Misfits, muffins, flowers and Haggard Hawks

Because of an impending visit from Handsome Son, and a great scarcity in the house of any little something, whole wheat walnut muffins showed up



Shortly before Misfits did, here last week's insulated bag for pickup and whatever they do next with it





Nice haul, though they'd run out of strawberries, too bad, I had plans for baking poptarts with strawberry jam, but another time.

Meanwhile lunch was a tuna melt. There will be a cauliflower cheese in my future, too. And today I'll be roasting that little chicken you saw last week, do there will be plenty of go-to no-planning food around. Always a good thing.

I expect readers all got the Haggard Hawks puzzle?

MONSOON

Some people have seen this one before, but new readers maybe not. Anyway, that's it and thank you for not giving it away.

And current reading while I'm finishing up First Ladies, is a bit of fluff from D E Stevenson


It's for when you need a break from serious writing like the books I've read lately. An amuse-bouche. Before I delve into the 1819 Project for my online book group.

Emma Mitchell has created another great arrangement, and gives us notes on what's in it.



Happy day everyone, spring equinox soon in this hemisphere, moving along so fast.



Tuesday, December 26, 2023

Christmas present and past

We had a lovely day, thank you all for your good wishes. 

Our dinner was a joint affair, Handsome Son bringing ham, roast potatoes, ginger ale, crackers, eggnog, plus home baked cookies from his co worker, sent for me! Joined with the  cheese, vegetables and cranberry sauce, and the many edible gifts around here, we did very well. Also pots of tea.

After he left, I slept quite a while.

One Christmas Day when he was quite young, we took him to the reenactment of General Washington crossing the Delaware, on Christmas Night, 1776,  only about 45 minutes from here, figuring that every American should see this at least once,  to pay our respects.

If you're not familiar with one of New Jersey's main claims to fame, read on



And, credit where it's due, here's the militia group that did the heavy lifting of getting Washington's Durham boat  across a wild river in a snowstorm.   Many other boats were also commandeered to get the army across.

Nowadays the  reenactment is done in daylight, and only weather permitting!

The scene of the Battle of Princeton is about a 15  minute drive, from here, well known locally. Inger and Steve, I expect you're familiar with it. New Jersey is full of historic places where battles were fought, and when I had Brit guests, I'd take them around to all these places where we  were hammered yet again and got our little red coats all dirty. 

And here's a Christmas wish from my friends including dog Jennie, who among many good social works, knit in their rec. time, well, Jennie helps, and include my socks and gloves in their knitted offerings to the County outreach which cares for homeless people.

I particularly like that a community dressed in black and white has a black and white dog and cat. Harmony.

Third from left is Sister Monica, my knitting contact person, and second from right Sister Suzanne Elizabeth, who arranged the goldwork embroidery workshop a few years ago which changed the direction of my artwork. Much to thank them for. They're all stars in their professions, aside from being nuns, scholars, social workers, a force for good. 

My reading is also historic. I finally got around to Crome Yellow, Aldous Huxley's first, much quoted and referenced, novel. It's a satire on the mores of his time, full of real people and places, disguised and fooling nobody.

It's pretty heavy going, doesn't hold a candle to his later brilliant essays. I think, once again, that the early twentieth century English canon is full of works written and published by a tiny group of people with great social standing and privilege. I doubt if they'd make it in a competitive modern publishing world. Mitford, Forster, Waugh, Greene, readable, but I don't think the same works by writers without their access would have been accepted. 

I'm always a bit sceptical about "classics" for this reason. Some, such as Middlemarch, A La Recherche,  all of Austen, are certainly works of genius, but there's a lot we needn't get all excited about. 

Even the great Shakespeare was best in the tragedies and histories. His comedies are just plain unfunny, the tedious old Falstaff clunking about, usually overacted, probably good in their time in a different environment, different audience.

On a cheerier note, here's a little bouquet, courtesy of Emma Mitchell. 


Happy day everyone! Enjoy your day despite grouchy bloggers!

There's usually some kind of little bouquet to be found.