Low Batteries Won't Stop Me

Yes, I've been making a pretty every day, however, my camera batteries won't be found to prove it.

#3 Saturday we had some friends for a pasta chicken supper. The napkins sported white ribbon. We turned the lights down low and talked, cried some, laughed a little, and collaborated on one stanza of Nancy's poem that had a hitch in its giddyup.

She brought me a bouquet of tulips and some specialty daffies to hurry and get in the ground. Thankfully there are only a few. Brita and I outdid ourselves last fall.

#4 Sunday, I made a paper collage of two chubbly, ragamuffin girls getting their toes sandy at the beach. Pails swinging, hats askew, and happy hearts.

We just found out two weeks ago that she has pancreatic cancer. Something cheerful in the mail doesn't change that, but it might make the day brighter?

She has been saving for retirement only a couple of years away, but life changes in mere moments. Everything is different now. She has always lived like she believes this isn't all there is, so it is all good. Healed now or later. It will be a grueling time ahead. I see much love already being boomeranged back -  many of us have been loved well by her.

We are both beachy girls - most content by the ocean. I want her to be there in her happy spot, at least in her mind's eye. With me.

#5 Today, I wound all my ancient lace on tubes so I will be able to use it. It has been tangled and stuffed in a bag in the linen closet for years. I forget about it in the dark. Loverby made a rack for all five of the finished ones to hang on the wall. They are finally accessible and approachable.

Tug is Gone

My brother's black lab died last week. He'd been sick a long time. Old age and a tired heart claimed him. Tugboat adored his master and mistress. Going hunting was his joy in life. He was synchronized perfectly with my brother, they worked together as one. He was a noble fellow. Our entire family will miss him. I think he is slobbering profusely as he runs full speed into the water making a big, big splash.

Day #2. Facing a blank white piece of paper is terrifying. Always. This is Tugboat's Tribute.

Making Pretties Day #1

Every day I'm going to make something pretty, take the best picture I am able to, and post it. I need to create and play and participate with life right now. Too much passive spectating and admiring other's work can keep me from producing anything of my own. On purpose creative play is my current RX. Let's see how long it lasts. I'd love to see what you've been making too. Show me please.  

Going through my vintage textiles I have come across pieces that could be thrown away, but instead I'm trying to save them by re-purposing/altering them. Lime green and cream batiste flowers today.

Gunkholing

We did it before hearing the word spoken. We lived it before we knew there was such a word. We experienced it before we knew the definition. 

Gunkholing. Racks of books by several authors exist about it along with a plethora of blogs and forums devoted to the subject. Who knew? It was waiting right outside our back door all this time, but we had to step off the porch and onto the deck of a boat to experience it. 

For years we have explored our San Juan Islands by ferries carrying us in our car to favorite spots. We take a map and pack a picnic basket. Once a year we honeymoon on Orcas Island. We have seen the wonders of the Puget Sound and gloried in the fact that there isn't a Sea World fee bracelet to wear. Nor are there hot lines of disgruntled people pushing and shoving bruises into our flesh as we ooh and aah over the salty treasures presenting themselves for our pleasure. 

We were content with our explorations until gunkholing last week. I'm afraid it has ruined us. There are islands public and private that aren't accessible by ferry. Gunkholing is the answer. Gunkholing on a sailboat is memorable, although the deep keel on a sailboat presents a challenge for the navigator. A map of the Puget Sound faced us as we sat on the toilet each time we visited the head. One more chance for the red marks warning of dangerous rocks to become engraved in our minds waking and sleeping. 

Gunkholing: Find a little cove to head toward after an afternoon of sailing. Hitch up to a mooring ball, or anchor in the mud and gravel that holds well. Untie the dinghy. Row to the nearest beach. Tie it fast. Follow the trails to myriad discoveries. Sunken ships. Lighthouses. An old one room school. Lime kilns. Historic Company Towns. Seal rookeries. A safari island with exotic animals transplanted to our rainy PNW. The water is too shallow and the coves are too small for the big boys. One night we had a cove all to ourselves. The quiet attached itself to our pores, breathing with us, inviting us to disturb the sacred.

The oven/stove in the galley was gimballed. It swivelled as the boat rolled. I learned to brace my feet and sway while making coffee or hot chocolate. A few times we pulled a meal together while under way with a topsy turvy galley, a few bruises, and creative second and third options considered. I reveled in the challenge of preparing tasty food under difficult circumstances. No spills. No mop ups. 

The first time all three sails were up and full, my throat swelled with gladness as I looked up. It reminded me of when I sat under the music of a massive pipe organ for the first time. I felt the vibrations through the wooden pew, wooden floor, and all along the wood paneling on the walls. When the sucking wind heeled the boat on its side it looked like water would rush the deck. It recovered and righted itself each time. I got the rush instead. 

The Kookaburra effortlessly did what she was made to do. Catch wind and fly in its laughing face while porpoises raced along side. 

Book Fun

I made this yesterday. The quote I used is from August Rush. I know, I know, it was a sappy, sentimental movie - but I liked it anyways.

This is what inspired me: Nancy mentioned she had won this paper house garland from Kickcan and Conkers. Her lovely and inspiring sight brought me to the artist and creator of The Button Book. My uterus lurched a bit at the thought of giving birth to anything so darling. Ahhh, the creative trail leading to a fun day. That's how it happens. If you would like this little book, I'd mail it to you. It is no bigger than 2" X 2" Making it was the fun part.

Full Cup

My dear friend Susan took a status I posted on Facebook some time ago and made it touchable and tangible. What a gift. I have it in front of my computer on my desk - to remind me when I don't feel so.

Drive By Shooting

During our Idaho vacation, mom and I came upon this ice sculpture unexpectedly. It was on a farm out in the middle of nowhere. We had to stop and take pictures. Afterwards we paused and let our astonishment suck in the beauty till the chill wind drove us back to the car. 

A creative, playful sort of farmer had turned a sprinkler on an unsightly, common pile of brush in his front pasture. Layer by layer it was growing ice crystal branches. Before our eyes it was being transformed into art.

Farmers are busy with chores. This one took time to play in between work. He and his family had quite view from their picture window. He gave us a memorable gift. Free. On the fly. A drive by shooting. :)