Among my various experiments, hobbies and creative kicks I have acquired a large blob of clay. It is grey and has some firing point I forget and needs a certain amount of cones ...whatever. It is clay and I want to make something. Specifically I want to make a clay vessel. I use that term loosely as anything I would fire up would never get vitrified enough to hold water and would seep and leak.
I should be so lucky if I could manage to make something that would seep. Almost everything I have attempted that would be vessel like has either exploded in the fire pit ( just place them in or near a fire we might have burning outside) or has promptly dissolved back into dust the moment I pace it decoratively on a table.
I tried again this early Spring. I did a simple pinch pot method, dried it as best I could and placed it near the edge of a red hot fire pit, occasionally turning the pieces to get an even burn. Then I carefully placed the hot pieces in the fire coals itself.
The spectacular explosions and showers of crackling sparks was very exciting. However it left me with nothing but sharp pieces of rubble barely fit for the drain layer in the planters. Undeterred I purchased a child's potters wheel.
The wheel and assembly was brightly colored plastic in primary colors. I stuffed it with batteries and was good to go. After wedging any air out of the clay I smooshed the ball in the center of the wheel and proceeded to paint the surrounding area with clay splatter while simultaneously giving myself a clay facial. Multitasking.
The first few attempts were disastrous messy, misshapen and I have no idea how an uncoordinated child with no patience would ever be able to craft anything but a wet clay missile launched in frustration. Resisting the urge to fling my sticky mess I slowed the speed and carefully nursed the lump along until it looked like a giant booger with a good sized hole in it. Eureka!
In fact I produced three smallish "vessels" that were quite cute, a little bottom heavy, but cute. Pots only a mother could love. They stayed drying in the sun room all Summer. I finally fired them three days ago. One popped and broke sounding like a musket being fired. The other two would pop and flake off shard on the base of the pots but did not lose all integrity.
I have them sitting on a window sill now. I might even paint them. They are unmistakably hideous. But they are mine and they make me smile. My ugly clay children.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Too old for saplings
It is the first day of Fall. My gardens have endured torrential Spring rains, a Summer of drought and the crazy experiment of hugel kulture. They look like overgrown mortar craters. Now I know why nobody posts pictures of their raised beds after the harvest. They just look buffugly. Every garden is having a bad hair day.
The tomato plants, now crunchy and leggy are still producing the odd misshapen tomato fruit. The Giant Amaranth has either fallen over from the relentless wind or is putting out clusters of seed heads. I'm hoping for a decent harvest if the birds don't beat me to it.
None of the fruit trees have died yet but the Pecans look dubious. They are stunted, broken from hail and neglect. The once proud stand of Maples that circled the yard are also soon to see their last Winter. They are held together only because the termites are holding hands. The leaves have long fallen and the branches snap off, brittle and lifeless.
This is the progress of life and growing things. They flourish, nourish and then perish.I see bonfires in my future and lots of chipping and shredding to make mulch. I used to mourn the loss of a tree and now I just register it like I do a shooting star or a sunrise. I see it and say "Ah how beautiful, I saw it..."
Jane Fonda once said it was her indulgence to plant mature trees because she was too old for saplings. I use this wisdom to justify paying insane amounts of money for a bigger tree. I have let my grey hair show, refusing to dye it anymore. I don't want to look younger than my age. I am too old for saplings.
The tomato plants, now crunchy and leggy are still producing the odd misshapen tomato fruit. The Giant Amaranth has either fallen over from the relentless wind or is putting out clusters of seed heads. I'm hoping for a decent harvest if the birds don't beat me to it.
None of the fruit trees have died yet but the Pecans look dubious. They are stunted, broken from hail and neglect. The once proud stand of Maples that circled the yard are also soon to see their last Winter. They are held together only because the termites are holding hands. The leaves have long fallen and the branches snap off, brittle and lifeless.
This is the progress of life and growing things. They flourish, nourish and then perish.I see bonfires in my future and lots of chipping and shredding to make mulch. I used to mourn the loss of a tree and now I just register it like I do a shooting star or a sunrise. I see it and say "Ah how beautiful, I saw it..."
Jane Fonda once said it was her indulgence to plant mature trees because she was too old for saplings. I use this wisdom to justify paying insane amounts of money for a bigger tree. I have let my grey hair show, refusing to dye it anymore. I don't want to look younger than my age. I am too old for saplings.
Friday, August 3, 2012
So Hawt!
Is it possible to actually have a grasshopper jump from the shade and cook it self in mid flight because of the heat?! I'm pretty sure that is what I just saw. It is so epic hot that the dog went out to pee and just quietly collapsed. Poor thing. Now he has ice cubes in his dish and sleeps happily on the floor vent, enjoying the air conditioning.
He looks like a poodle version of the flying nun with his ears being blown gently up. I can even hang clothes outside and have them dried in minutes! I'm sure I could dry meat too but why? The air smells of ozone and burning tires. Birds just flop around not bothering to fly.
I believe that ice tea might just be the god of my idolatry right now. Anyone remember Winter? Anyone?
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Damn you stink bugs!
I douse the gardens with collected rainwater or use the hose if there is none in the buckets. The leaves of the plants glisten and water trickles down to soak the thirsty morning soil. Then I pause. Sometimes I munch on whatever is growing and producing like a crunchy snow pea or succulent strawberry.
Then they rise up, crawling, ugly stinkbugs/ squash bugs from the soil to sun themselves at the tops of the leaves. Dark brown, grey and charcoal against the bright green of the leaves they are easy to spot. Easy to kill. I wait till they are exposed and then squirt them with my water and dish soap mixture.
If I am lucky I catch them mating and get a two for one kill. They will not prevail this year. They will be suffocated with my diligence. I kill their babies too. Yes, I am a baby killer. I remove leaves they have laid eggs on and crush them all dead!
Damn you stink bugs! You will not hurt my precious pumpkins....my precious.
Then they rise up, crawling, ugly stinkbugs/ squash bugs from the soil to sun themselves at the tops of the leaves. Dark brown, grey and charcoal against the bright green of the leaves they are easy to spot. Easy to kill. I wait till they are exposed and then squirt them with my water and dish soap mixture.
If I am lucky I catch them mating and get a two for one kill. They will not prevail this year. They will be suffocated with my diligence. I kill their babies too. Yes, I am a baby killer. I remove leaves they have laid eggs on and crush them all dead!
Damn you stink bugs! You will not hurt my precious pumpkins....my precious.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
When Mountain Bikes Attack
It was about an hour into a supposed 20 minute mountain bike ride that I began to wonder if this trail would ever end. Half the time I was off the bike pushing it uphill sweating and breathing hard. The other half of the time I was hurtling down the sides of cliffs white knuckling it with the bike rattling down rocky steps of the rutted and worn path.
I was grateful at least for that, the path was pretty clear, well not so clear that I was reaching the 1 and a half hour time mark on this 20 minute loop trail. I was actually passed by twice by the same cyclist at that point. I couldn't believe he lapped me and told him so.
He was a real mountain biker with the matching spandex outfit, camel back hydration unit on his back and special super shock absorber bicycle. He said he realized that I was way out of my league on that trail and came by to check up on me ( more like identify the body so he could tell the Ranger what mesa I fell off of.)
His other companions asked if I needed anything and I said I was fine. They were genuinely concerned. They encouraged me and said I was halfway there. HALFWAY!?
No longer playfully stopping to take pictures of butterflies and flowers I began to panic. I had two sips of water left and I was in over my head. I'm sure the city bike and the yoga pants were a dead giveaway. I mustered and continued my now grueling journey onward. Perhaps I should say upward.
While the valley plunges were exhilarating with bone rattling ferocity, the uphill climbs were a hot messy drain.The authentic cyclists peddled upward along the twisting path like spandex clad gladiators leaving me in their superior dust. I barely managed to push the bike up a foot at a time, breathing heavy and sweating.
Sweating was good right?! I mean you aren't supposed to panic until you stop sweating. Jeez, I hope I don't have to end up in some gross survival situation where I have to drink my pee. It was at that deliriously exhausted moment that I secretly hoped a snake would bite me and kill me before I had to drink pee.
I was alone now, not even the faint trace of dust in the air from the other bikers to keep me company. I was peddling so slowly that the butterflies were mocking me by flying circles through the spokes and laughing. I guess I wasn't entirely alone if you count the butterflies...and the buzzards!? Are you kidding me! F#cking buzzards doing areal reconacence on me as I gasped my way along this grossly under marked biking trail.
I'm still moving you rude bastards! I yelled at the buzzards. OK, I'm not really moving but I am resting and breathing! I shook my fists at them and said REALLY?! I kept my sense of humor by thinking of all the survival stuff I could like drinking pee, eating bugs ( yeah, not so cocky now you little punk butterflies.)
About this time I was out of water and sure my hubby was getting scared. I was getting scared. I couldn't see the other cyclists and began to wonder if I had taken some weird path and would end up in another county. I was frustrated at myself for pushing onward when I should have gone back maybe. ( However, being at the halfway point I did want to see the rest of the trail.) Stupid, stupid. I could feel the almost hot tears stinging. My legs ached and the prospect of the survival pee drink was looming as a reality.
Before I could feel sorry for myself I heard a small child crying. Out here in the dessert with only my entourage of hopeful buzzards and my dusty yoga pants and my hurt ego I hear a child crying. I never thought that I would be relieved at this sound but I was. Where there is a child there is sure to be parents, a mini van and perhaps even some water!
God bless that little family. They shared their water and the little boy patted my bike in admiration. They were nearly run over by the super bikers before me. He had been crying because he wanted to say hi to me when he saw me on the other side of the canyon. ( I had take too long to get to them.) I admitted I wanted to cry too. They pointed me in the right direction and I was buoyed up by their kindness to trundle on.
Another 30 minutes of crawling uphill and careening down limestone death stretches of path to go. I picked my way through a twisted shady forest so cool and enchanted I almost forgot how scared I was. I knew I was getting closer to camp. My butt hurt, not from the spine shattering clatter of uneven ground beneath the bike but from my constant clenching whenever I came up to a hair pin curve with a gut sinking drop off cliff.
I felt lucky though. I fell only once and in the grass not the copious cactus. As I pitched over and landed in a sweaty heap I merely said to myself " There you go." I wasn't sorry for myself just amused and tired. A borderline dehydrated out of body experience, I felt like I was watching myself in a really cheap survival movie.
Nearly there and the trail got worse. Steeper, more gravel, sharper turns, random cactus that reached out to grab at your ankles, so evil. I know somebody wrecked 'cause I saw the scrape marks, the skid and the impact in the cactus. This I avoided myself by humbly getting off the bike and walking it along.
I was still in tact. People had been kind to me. The bike was in great shape. Lots of air in the tires. The day was fair and not too hot. I captured several cool pictures on my phone from the adventure. I crested the highest peak and was hit by a glorious view and soughing breeze. Best of all I had phone reception! I fired off a few positive and comforting messages to my husband. He would surly get them when he drove up to the Rangers station to report me missing.
When we finally met back up his distress and concern was as palpable as a sauna. He said very little and held me. We have a new rule in the family now. 10 minutes out and 10 minutes back. No matter where I am I must go back at that time. Poor man he married a fool. A lucky fool!
I was grateful at least for that, the path was pretty clear, well not so clear that I was reaching the 1 and a half hour time mark on this 20 minute loop trail. I was actually passed by twice by the same cyclist at that point. I couldn't believe he lapped me and told him so.
He was a real mountain biker with the matching spandex outfit, camel back hydration unit on his back and special super shock absorber bicycle. He said he realized that I was way out of my league on that trail and came by to check up on me ( more like identify the body so he could tell the Ranger what mesa I fell off of.)
His other companions asked if I needed anything and I said I was fine. They were genuinely concerned. They encouraged me and said I was halfway there. HALFWAY!?
No longer playfully stopping to take pictures of butterflies and flowers I began to panic. I had two sips of water left and I was in over my head. I'm sure the city bike and the yoga pants were a dead giveaway. I mustered and continued my now grueling journey onward. Perhaps I should say upward.
While the valley plunges were exhilarating with bone rattling ferocity, the uphill climbs were a hot messy drain.The authentic cyclists peddled upward along the twisting path like spandex clad gladiators leaving me in their superior dust. I barely managed to push the bike up a foot at a time, breathing heavy and sweating.
Sweating was good right?! I mean you aren't supposed to panic until you stop sweating. Jeez, I hope I don't have to end up in some gross survival situation where I have to drink my pee. It was at that deliriously exhausted moment that I secretly hoped a snake would bite me and kill me before I had to drink pee.
I was alone now, not even the faint trace of dust in the air from the other bikers to keep me company. I was peddling so slowly that the butterflies were mocking me by flying circles through the spokes and laughing. I guess I wasn't entirely alone if you count the butterflies...and the buzzards!? Are you kidding me! F#cking buzzards doing areal reconacence on me as I gasped my way along this grossly under marked biking trail.
I'm still moving you rude bastards! I yelled at the buzzards. OK, I'm not really moving but I am resting and breathing! I shook my fists at them and said REALLY?! I kept my sense of humor by thinking of all the survival stuff I could like drinking pee, eating bugs ( yeah, not so cocky now you little punk butterflies.)
About this time I was out of water and sure my hubby was getting scared. I was getting scared. I couldn't see the other cyclists and began to wonder if I had taken some weird path and would end up in another county. I was frustrated at myself for pushing onward when I should have gone back maybe. ( However, being at the halfway point I did want to see the rest of the trail.) Stupid, stupid. I could feel the almost hot tears stinging. My legs ached and the prospect of the survival pee drink was looming as a reality.
Before I could feel sorry for myself I heard a small child crying. Out here in the dessert with only my entourage of hopeful buzzards and my dusty yoga pants and my hurt ego I hear a child crying. I never thought that I would be relieved at this sound but I was. Where there is a child there is sure to be parents, a mini van and perhaps even some water!
God bless that little family. They shared their water and the little boy patted my bike in admiration. They were nearly run over by the super bikers before me. He had been crying because he wanted to say hi to me when he saw me on the other side of the canyon. ( I had take too long to get to them.) I admitted I wanted to cry too. They pointed me in the right direction and I was buoyed up by their kindness to trundle on.
Another 30 minutes of crawling uphill and careening down limestone death stretches of path to go. I picked my way through a twisted shady forest so cool and enchanted I almost forgot how scared I was. I knew I was getting closer to camp. My butt hurt, not from the spine shattering clatter of uneven ground beneath the bike but from my constant clenching whenever I came up to a hair pin curve with a gut sinking drop off cliff.
I felt lucky though. I fell only once and in the grass not the copious cactus. As I pitched over and landed in a sweaty heap I merely said to myself " There you go." I wasn't sorry for myself just amused and tired. A borderline dehydrated out of body experience, I felt like I was watching myself in a really cheap survival movie.
Nearly there and the trail got worse. Steeper, more gravel, sharper turns, random cactus that reached out to grab at your ankles, so evil. I know somebody wrecked 'cause I saw the scrape marks, the skid and the impact in the cactus. This I avoided myself by humbly getting off the bike and walking it along.
I was still in tact. People had been kind to me. The bike was in great shape. Lots of air in the tires. The day was fair and not too hot. I captured several cool pictures on my phone from the adventure. I crested the highest peak and was hit by a glorious view and soughing breeze. Best of all I had phone reception! I fired off a few positive and comforting messages to my husband. He would surly get them when he drove up to the Rangers station to report me missing.
When we finally met back up his distress and concern was as palpable as a sauna. He said very little and held me. We have a new rule in the family now. 10 minutes out and 10 minutes back. No matter where I am I must go back at that time. Poor man he married a fool. A lucky fool!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Fishing for Fun
Finally! Today after a year of talking about it, fantasizing about it and occasionally watching boring fishing shows on TV, I bought my very first fishing rod and reel.
I have been fishing before, with other peoples gear and even accidentally caught a Bass by the fin as it was swimming by. I also had my own Hawaiian sling when I still lived in the islands. I got one for me and one for my son so I could teach him how to spear fish.
It was a Mom thing at the time, I wanted to make sure he could catch fish and feed himself in the future. Primal but true.
This time I was buying a Caucasian style fishing pole to fish for fun. For Fun! What a concept. fishing was for dinner, plain and simple where I grew up. Now as I looked about me for entertainment I decided I should learn to fish with a pole. ( Those lakes I go camping at are to muddy to see in anyways so the spear wouldn't work.)
What I really wanted was a pink Barbie pole and tackle set like they have around Christmas time. Alas, there was only Spiderman and Hubby in his wisdom steered me toward a rod/reel set up with tackle kit and instructions on the back.
Armed with my new found treasure I waited at the Walmart customer service desk to get a fishing license...Fast forward another 30 minutes trying to track down someone in the sporting goods department and I had my permission slip from the government of Oklahoma to kill fish for a year!
Now I am going to practice casting from the couch in the TV room and wait for the next camping trip.
Hubby asked me what I was going to do with the fish if I caught it? I said I was gonna eat it! Hell yes I'm going to eat it. I will probably catch and release anything too small to eat but I was raised running on the beach after crabs and fishing with a spear and net to have dinner and I just can't seem to give that up.
I have been fishing before, with other peoples gear and even accidentally caught a Bass by the fin as it was swimming by. I also had my own Hawaiian sling when I still lived in the islands. I got one for me and one for my son so I could teach him how to spear fish.
It was a Mom thing at the time, I wanted to make sure he could catch fish and feed himself in the future. Primal but true.
This time I was buying a Caucasian style fishing pole to fish for fun. For Fun! What a concept. fishing was for dinner, plain and simple where I grew up. Now as I looked about me for entertainment I decided I should learn to fish with a pole. ( Those lakes I go camping at are to muddy to see in anyways so the spear wouldn't work.)
What I really wanted was a pink Barbie pole and tackle set like they have around Christmas time. Alas, there was only Spiderman and Hubby in his wisdom steered me toward a rod/reel set up with tackle kit and instructions on the back.
Armed with my new found treasure I waited at the Walmart customer service desk to get a fishing license...Fast forward another 30 minutes trying to track down someone in the sporting goods department and I had my permission slip from the government of Oklahoma to kill fish for a year!
Now I am going to practice casting from the couch in the TV room and wait for the next camping trip.
Hubby asked me what I was going to do with the fish if I caught it? I said I was gonna eat it! Hell yes I'm going to eat it. I will probably catch and release anything too small to eat but I was raised running on the beach after crabs and fishing with a spear and net to have dinner and I just can't seem to give that up.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Mid Winter Still Gardening
Some people are blessed with really mild temperate weather and can garden all year. Normally that isn't the case in Oklahoma. I have a 3mil piece of plastic draped over a cage made of chicken wire that is held in place with bricks at the bottom and clothes pins near the top. In it I am still growing and harvesting lettuce. My ghetto green house is so fun. I even have a few shy radishes coming up in it the relative warmth of the plastic covered "cold frame."
Hidden under a few inches of pine needles I have leeks and garlic. The sage and parsley is still hanging tough too. If I had known that the Winter was going to be so mild I would have planted more! However, the whiplash temperatures and wild changeable jet stream may foil me yet.
The Farmer's Almanac is predicting ice storms in my future. Yikes.
The final wonder is actually in the sun-room. A single triumphant bell pepper plant, complete with bell pepper is growing in it's own personal eternal Summer. I fawn over it constantly. It is fun to have something fruiting now. It feeds my nurturing personality to have something to grow and look after. Likewise, I grieve when a plant finally withers and dies. For now I have lettuce fresh from the garden and soon a single bell pepper to munch.
Hidden under a few inches of pine needles I have leeks and garlic. The sage and parsley is still hanging tough too. If I had known that the Winter was going to be so mild I would have planted more! However, the whiplash temperatures and wild changeable jet stream may foil me yet.
The Farmer's Almanac is predicting ice storms in my future. Yikes.
The final wonder is actually in the sun-room. A single triumphant bell pepper plant, complete with bell pepper is growing in it's own personal eternal Summer. I fawn over it constantly. It is fun to have something fruiting now. It feeds my nurturing personality to have something to grow and look after. Likewise, I grieve when a plant finally withers and dies. For now I have lettuce fresh from the garden and soon a single bell pepper to munch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)