Civic duties done, germination under way

The mail yesterday brought my voting receipt with peel off sticker

And the Xerces Society stickers 

I'm doing my best for the pollinators.

And here's what's happening on the patio

Most of the pots now have seedlings, the zinnias the biggest, the wildflowers microscopic. The peppermint has kept the squirrels away and the seeds are undisturbed. 

The bottom picture is for you, Chris -- I poked about and found the morning glories have self seeded from last year. I'd just let the seeds fall as they wanted and here they come. This is the first time ever they've done that. Always they've grown one year, rarely even blossomed, so no seeds to fall. This year your flowers are doing as you promised. Yay.

Then after this early morning wander about the deck, I made coffee and finished the weaving on the repaired loom. 

It's now a rug under my water glass on the coffee table, with room for the pill I take three times a day.

This was mainly a proof of concept piece, to be sure the loom was in working order. Now I'm going to create a narrow band weaving on the other loom, with the same krokbragd motifs, which will work better smaller and tighter. At least that's the plan. 

And here's the band design coming up after that, courtesy of poet Padraig O'Tuama who took the picture. 

This is looking like a tapestry to come.

He's a brilliant poet and nice man, very thoughtful and maybe what I make might end up with him. We'll see.

Here's some of his recent thinking 

This reminds me of the narrator in William Cooper's novel Scenes from Married Life, musing on how people tend to get attached to their problems. They're reluctant to solve them, even when there are available solutions, wondering how their lives would go on without them as the mainspring.

I've often thought about that since I read Cooper decades ago, so astute and so ruthless. 

Happy day everyone, beautiful day today, out walking and terrifying local teens busy hanging out and being cool, by greeting them! Shock, horror, mumble mumble.. I have to say something back, mrmrm. Tiny smile. They'll learn I come in peace.

Make all the things, grow all the things, greet all the passersby..

Resting Sunday

Today I'm trying not to spin, weave, knit, because my neck and shoulder are asking to rest. 

I'll walk and think.

Yesterday I made this, no idea what to call it, some sort of fryup. Spiced tuna, steamed broccoli, red lentil crumbs, bound with an egg, fried. Served with the rest of the apricot sauce 

You need plenty of spice here, and I added baharat to the already spicy ingredients. With the sweeter apricot sauce, good.

And since the very hot day Friday brought on the lavender scent, 

I cut a bunch for my neighbor. 

I do this each year, except last year there were no flowers at all, and I wondered if it had died. But this year it's back looking as fine as ever.

I was thinking recently about poet Padraig O'Tuama and his thoughtful newsletter, about our perception of time and other things. 

Here's a great new thought from him, which I'll pass on in his own words

And I have an example of art making something happen, not to me, but to an observer of my work, which then affected me.

This was years ago, when I had a local solo show titled Four Sisters, made in copper wire, black gesso and  metal upcycled items.

Most of the pieces suggested three sisters and an observer. None of my sisters made any comments on it though I had sent pictures of the pieces in the show.

Here's one, most of the show sold to collectors, so only a couple are here 

Then, years later, sister Dogonart said they'd all gone out for coffee and to look at the pictures. She said they kept wondering why it was called four sisters when they could only detect three people in the various works.

Then she said it suddenly dawned on her that the fourth was relegated to being an outsider, observing the group. The artist was the fourth, outside looking in. She was dismayed and said you must have felt you never had sisters. 

I suspect that's why I never heard from them about it, didn't even know they'd looked at the pictures. They got it.  They just didn't know what to say to acknowledge it. But one sister reached out, much later, as a result. 

That was the power of art, which words and my personal reaching out for many years,  had never achieved. It wasn't my intent at all. I was just creating a concept based on my experience, as artists do. So that came as a bonus.

In another context, here's an ink and wash if Four Sisters. 

It takes a bit of looking to find them all, a metaphor for the life of a large family, of which this was only half.  And any of these sisters could be any other, depending on circumstances. Identities and relationships are fluid. 

Do you have any experience where any art form, music, theatre, dance, painting, created an epiphany for you? Maybe you'd like to share? 

Happy day everyone, I'm off to walk in the sunshine. Trala!