Raven and Sparrow

After-Christmas scrub up

We always have to move the furniture in the living room to make room for the tree at Christmas, so when the holiday is over we push everything into the next room and do as thorough a clean-up as we can. The empty space allows us to bring in the big ladder so we can wash the tall windows on the inside and make a close inspection for dead flies and cobwebs. The rug gets an inch by inch vacuum, then is rolled up so the floor underneath can be washed too. Then we reverse the direction of the rug so the faded patches won't get too noticeable and bring in the furniture, vacuuming and polishing each piece as required. It took three days this year to get the room back together, but it feels so good to know that it is as clean as I can make it. 

Sweeping away the fir needles and all the Christmas paraphernalia is a good way to start a new year. 

Fierce rose

We have been spending the last two weeks with my son's family, who live about two hours away, helping to care for our new granddaughter. Our daughter-in-law had four months of maternity leave, due to expire on June 1. Upon checking with the day care she arranged last November (with confirmatory email in hand) she was told that her application had "slipped through the cracks" and there was no place for the baby until August. Crisis!!! Several tense phone calls resulted in a place opening in July, but that left June to be covered by someone else, so the grandparents stepped up. It was interesting to be immersed in infant care... babies are little so briefly, but what devourers of time and energy they are! We enjoyed experiencing this stage of life again. The baby is a bright, smiling child (whew) that made all the myriad tasks a pleasure. What a blessing to watch her grow!

Having abandoned our house during a peak growing period, we came back to find a tangle of weeds and the evidence of a big wind. It took a full day to tidy the circle garden and planters and sweep the terrace.

While we were gone our fierce rose came into its first bloom. Its name is "Tropical Lightning" and it is always a bit of a phenomenon. It is a climber ( I envisioned it growing sweetly against the garage, perhaps draping gracefully across the siding) that grows from monstrous canes with giant thorns. It produces garish yellow and orange buds that mature into rose, peach and white striped flowers that then age to ivory and purple. All these colors are present together on this lavish bush that reminds me of a tiger. It is intimidating and not always pretty, but a source of great energy in that corner of the garden. Oddly, its fragrance is not aggressive, but light and fruity like Juicy Fruit gum. It is good to be home.

What the...snow?

After an unusually cold February including a week of snow (we got about 4 inches here on the island, but my family got almost a foot in Seattle and my son over two in the Cascade Mountain foothills) we were thinking we had had winter and were looking forward to spring. Today the forecast called for rain but it has been snowing all day. Its not sticking very much, but still. Many winters have no snow at all, so this seems like overkill. (I know, I know....... all of you in hard winter areas can call me a snowflake.)

The element of surprise today takes me back so clearly to childhood. I grew up on this same island and in those days (dinosaurs had just disappeared) weather forecasting was much less accurate. The mountains of the Olympic Peninsula on the western edge of Washington State protect Puget Sound from the fury of the open ocean, but they split and twirl the air streams that flow over them, resulting in highly various weathers on this side. Before satellite imaging meteorologists could see the big fronts coming from the west or the north, but had no idea how they would affect any given area in the Sound. They gave percentage possibilities for precipitation but we knew it was guesswork and could not depend upon them to make plans. Mostly, weather was just what it was where you were, a daily surprise. The best surprise was snow, of course because it was so unusual, and meant a break from school. I remember dragging myself out of bed in the darkness of winter, expecting to go through the usual morning motions, dreading my scheduled arithmetic test, when my mother threw open the drapes and the transformed world announced a holiday. Oh happy snow! 

Now the forecasters have so many more tools to work with that our weather is much less mysterious. We get updates on our phones that tell us to expect rain at four o'clock and nervously warn us of approaching snow possibilities. It is better in many ways but sometimes I miss the blessing of unexpected delight.

The pursuit of happiness

Its not like I don't have anything to do here in the aftermath of Christmas, but I always experience this interlude as a release from the incessant demands of December. There is so much to be accomplished in what never seems to be enough time that all personal projects go on hold for the duration, and that creates a kernel of resentment. No matter how lackadaisical I have been through the fall in pursuing my work, having to set it aside feels like an affront and the feeling is stronger when the work has been stymied as mine has been for a while. So now the knot is releasing and my imagination eagerly returns to its former channels. This very eagerness is a special gift of this time. It is a renewal and re-dedication, a confirmation that I am still interested in what I am doing. I am prompted anew to  improve and elevate my efforts. I think about what is trite and expected about my projects and search for ways to deepen them. I go back over the decisions I have made and question them, trying to figure out where the snags and hold-ups are and how to smooth them out.

Lisa's table has been stalled for while now. I thought I had a good solution for her summer cloth, but my drawings and doodles haven't produced anything with enough energy to take further. I thought maybe the pillow project would spark something but so far that hasn't happened. I need a new idea or a turn to an old one that will push me to take action and actually bring what is in my head into being. Perhaps the forced hiatus of Christmas will be the fertilizer my project needs.

Stepping back a little from my specific work, I am reminded of the importance of imagination. Living in the moment is an attitude to be cultivated, but the projection of possibility into the future is essential to hope and hope creates meaning. Imagining something new illuminates a previously untried path which may lead (one hopes) to something of value. Even though that value can't be accurately assessed from the start, its pursuit grounds and endows life with purpose and I think we need that to be happy. 

Clean at last

Another project has been completed, although I know it is just momentary. I am so lucky to have such an extensive studio space in the old house, but between my own messy habits and the porous qualities of the building, I am always battling to keep it clean. It has taken me three months to work through the lastest accumulations of cloth, dying kettles and spider larders, but for now it's clean. I have taken some pictures to prove it. 

The windows have been washed, the floors have been mopped, the blue indigo streaks have been wiped off the stove. Time to mess it up again.

 

Time takes its toll

Our "new" house is now seven years old, but still the process of settling it into the landscape goes on...and on. It grew up from the wild, rough, glacially hewn rock of our island and is surrounded by a temperate jungle that is always trying to come in the door. We like the way it fits into its surroundings, but we have to set limits. We hired others to build the giant retaining wall for our terrace, and also had the paving for it and for the entrance patio done professionally, but where the door in the living room stepped out into dirt, we thought we could construct a small patio ourselves. It took two years. 

Mike and I have always worked well together. I decide how I want something to look, he figures out the most efficient way to accomplish it (sometimes requiring a re-think of the design) and then we make it as best we can. He does the really heavy lifting and I provide a steadying hand and do the running and tidying and small jobs that require patience. The respect each of us has for the talents of the other keep us moving through the endless tasks of fitting our environment to ourselves pretty happily most of the time.This division of labor has led us through garden, deck and various interior constructions through the years and is a pretty accurate metaphor for our life together. 

Building the back patio seemed well within our capabilities when first envisioned, but it has shown that time is having its way with us and that strength and energy can no longer be taken for granted. Both of us have had serious health problems in the last few years that have required big changes in diet and attitude. We are coming back slowly, but neither of us has the resilience of youth any more. Climbing in and out of the back of the pick-up takes more energy than it should and carrying pavers and equipment from front to back taxes us completely. The pick and shovel effort of hewing and leveling even a small area requires way more recovery time than it used to. To deal with these humbling realities we divided the patio into four small sections to keep ourselves from being overwhelmed. We did the first two last summer and have finally finished the second two just before the autumn rains began to fall.

The odd angles of our house and the severe drop-offs of our topography led to an angled patio that demanded lots of cutting to get the pavers to fit. We didn't have enough experience to place our pavers without a lot of gaps, so even more small pieces had to be made. Mike is always pursued in his mind by the professionals he imagines could do any job faster and better and sometimes I too wish we could be more finished in our execution, but these little oddities do make our house more our own in the end.

Here is what remains to be done. We need to extend a walkway around the living room to connect the back patio to the front terrace. Maybe next summer.

 

Pillow project

I was looking around my house the other day and noticed that things are getting a little shabby. My bedspread is wearing through, all my towels are dog-ready and my sofa pillows are mostly boring and worn. I used to change the pillows with the seasons, like my table settings, but for several years these green/gray ones have become the unvarying default. I have long thought I should make some new ones, but have always been pulled away by my tablecloth projects. Cleaning out my studio (still an ongoing effort) has refreshed my appreciation of how much fabric I have stored in it. Every tablecloth produces scraps and I have never thrown any of them away. Dye experiments, failed tablecloths, over-dyed calicos, white base cloth for this or that prospective project-that-never-solidified...all still waiting in file boxes, Rubbermaid tubs, drawers and closets for inspiration to strike. Now, perhaps, it has. I'll make pillows following the fabulous patchwork, collage-y examples of  the wonderful cloth conjurors (stealing Mo's term) here in blogland. I will do it alongside of whatever tablecloth I am working on, as a companion project or as a relief and contrast. Little bits instead of always the large scale pieces for the table, to freshen and energize another part of the house.

French seams

For quite a while now I have been thinking about my next seasonal tablecloth series for my sister Lisa. I found some commercial fabric that looks good with her dishes and together we happened upon a scarf at a local store that will be an interesting base for a setting. Because she is sort of starting from scratch with her table I also made her a white full size cloth and some napkins because it is always good to have the basics. I thought by making this "starter" cloth I would work out the dimensions I would need for the other undercloths I will be making as the seasonal settings come together and I was glad that I did.

The diversity of table sizes always surprises me. You would think that dining tables would be fairly standard, but they actually are not. Ovals are especially various, but even rectangles can be quite different. For example, Lisa's table is 48" x 66", which is short and wide. My table by comparison is 40" x 72". It is narrow enough that I can sneak by with one three yard length of 60" (56" after shrinkage) wide linen, if I use the selvages as the hem. That leaves me with an 8" fall around the table, which is a little on the skimpy side, but not bad. The practical result is that at $10.00 per yard I can have a tablecloth in any of the many many colors that linen comes in for $30.00 plus shipping, needing only to be hemmed on the two short sides before I slap it on the table.

For wider tables, however, I have to order twice as much fabric because I need to add panels to the sides (and the ends to finish it properly) to make it wide enough for a generous fall. For Becky's table (44' x 70") I needed to add 4 inches to each side (and the ends) to make a 10" fall. By cutting the panels 8 inches wide I had enough to fold the panel back on itself, encasing the raw edge of the large middle piece completely, with a double thickness of cloth around the edge and both sides cleanly finished. Four eight inch panels (actually 10" with seam allowance and hem) could be cut from fabric 56" wide with plenty to spare (napkins anyone?), so I could make Becky's big cloths from six yards of linen. 

You wouldn't think that four extra inches in table width would make much difference. In fact, I didn't think it. For Lisa's table I had to add seven inches to each side to get my favorite 10" fall. Doing my usual double edge meant that each panel had to be 16.5 inches wide to accomodate my usual inch and a half hem. It never occurred to me that I couldn't get four panels out of one fabric width (duh!) until I was deeply into it.  I had to buy another length of fabric to make that last panel, which really added time and money to the project. I ordered more fabric but it didn't exactly match because it came from another dye lot. It makes me feel so foolish not to have seen this in advance, but sometimes that's how I am. 

Having had this experience makes me wonder how to make future tablecloths for Lisa out of the original six yards. One option is to lessen the size of the fall. If I made an 8" fall I could get four double panels out of one three yard length and that would solve the problem. However, Lisa's table is one of those tall tables with tall chairs and while I feel okay with an 8" fall on my table, I worry that it will seem even skimpier on hers. The other possibility is to make the panels out of single pieces of linen, instead of double. That would solve the width problem, but would leave me with open seams on the back side. When I made Lynne's tablecloths for her oval table I had to add large curved panels to each side and used plain seams with zig zag edges. I could do the same with Lisa, but after the completely enclosed seams I have been used to, I balk. I have been experimenting with french seams, in which you sew a double seam encasing the raw edges in a neat little tab. It works well until I get to the corners, which I have been mitering. I can't figure out how to finish the ends the french seams or how to miter the corners without falling back onto zig zag edges, which maybe isn't the end of the world, remembering that I still have to do another mitered corner with the hem. Does anyone have any suggestions?

 

Don't sit under the apple tree

The apple tree outside the old house has split asunder. Oddly, it has a heavier than usual apple crop under construction and even though the trunk has broken apart, none of the leaves and apples on the limbs are wilting or acting like anything is wrong. The deer are enjoying having the apples in better reach, and I think they are magnifying the split by standing on the branches as they reach for higher, tastier fruit. At least I assume it is tastier. We have found the apples on this tree to be sour in the extreme. It was planted by the woman who built our old house, around 1942. I have enjoyed having its flowers in spring, its animal and bird attracting qualities and its historical associations and will miss it when it is gone. 

We have entered high summer here in the Northwest, with clear skies and warm temperatures. Not too warm though...we are almost always ten degrees cooler than Seattle, which means our average is about seventy five degrees Farenheit in the afternoons. Perfect.

Garden at last

I've been waiting for years for a small garden space and finally I have it. Yippee! It has taken so much time and effort to bring it into being.

Here is how it looked right after the house was built....a thin scrim of gravel over a rock spine. See how the makeshift decklet hangs out into empty space at the corner of the house.

We had to build the front terrace first and used pavers to finish the surface. That took forever.

Then we continued the paving around into the entry area, leaving a rough circle for a garden space. The rock was so close to the surface we had to jackhammer it out. Our sons and daughters-in-law helped tremendously, although they weren't there for the refilling with topsoil. Fortunately our neighbor brought his backhoe over and our backs were saved again.

Finally, finally, the plants are in. I have kept mostly to low growing plants so we can see over them to the water from the house. This year its mostly annuals, but I'm experimenting to see what does well in perennials and tiny shrubs. I love having a small controllable space amidst the sweeping wild plants that cover most of our property.