Spring Break Wednesday

For the past 5-6 years a pair of doves have returned to our plant hanging from the patio cover. Don has suggested moving it to a more sheltered area but they have rejected hanging plants that are set farther back undercover so I convinced Don that if we expected to keep our doves returning, we must leave the plant where it is. This plant has really been through it. It is a combination of two succulents so thank God it does not expect much watering. It has died back to next to nothing as many times as the doves have nested. Right now it is at its peak and I did not expect the doves so soon so did not have a chance to prune it and clean away the dry growth. So, now it must stay lest I disturb the dove mommy. Dove daddy spends hours daily sitting on the back fence puffing out his chest and warning off any and all interlopers. Many dive bombing Red Baron fights have been witnessed over the years in the quest of maintaining their territory. Even the cats seem to understand that the doves are off limits. When the babies start practicing their flying it can be very nerve wracking in the backyard. But mommy and daddy doves are very good at protecting their young and so far cats zero, birds 100. Who would have thought that doves would be so assertive. I hesitate to use the word aggressive because, after all, we are talking about doves.

The pansies and Icelandic poppies went in today. The pictures I took later didn't turn out too well so I'll wait a while and when they are mature take more pictures and post them. In the meanwhile, I put a struggling geranium in a pot with a guardian angel. With luck, she will recover and bloom large.

Stephen, my boss, called me today. Big project and short deadline landed on his desk, so off I went for about three hours. Not my favorite thing to do during spring break but things are the way they are and it's better to be a team player in this event. Later I went to Raley's yet again and then home to work here. Now the day is winding down and I'm already planning my day tomorrow. Only four days left. I'm missing my time off already.

Someone called me brave today

Annie, who is brave and has a blog and has been artjournaling and now postcarding. Well, the list goes on and on, and I would need my own blog to address all.

Dee you are such an angel. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of myself through YOUR eyes.

Spring Break Tuesday - Part Two

Biene and I met for brunch today at A.J.'s. Turns out Don had lunch at 11 a.m. and ended up there too. He sat across from us but Biene and I still had a girlie tete a tete. Yes, girlie. I don't care how old we get, women stay girlie. We had a blast. The big plan is to get together one Saturday and go to this little yarn shop that she discovered at Knight's Ferry. K.F. is a great destination place. It is a one street town in the foothills east of Oakdale and is located right on the Toulumne River. There is a great historic covered bridge to walk across.

After lunch I picked up mom and brought her to the bank where she cashed in two of her savings bonds. That will keep her set for a while. The best part of the day though was going back to Sequoia Lake and feeding the ducks. Mom was so happy there. She and her walker went after the ducks and eventually she settled into one of the Adirondak chairs and enjoyed the spring sunshine. One of my independent lady ducks appeared unescorted and she very boldly approached mom until eventually she was brave enough to pick at the crumbs right at her feet.

I took lots of picture of mom and the ducks but not being digital, they'll have to be developed another day.

THEN!! this huge ruckus ensued. A very aggressive male chased, pecked, mounted and pulled the wings of a very unwilling female. They were circling our chairs and it was really quite wild. She finally shook him off and he then went after my independent lady. Miss I. L. was back in the water by this time and she was having none of it. Lift off! and she was gone. The nasty bad boy of the pond paddled away no doubt in search of other pray.

And so it went today. I picked up more flowers for the backyard and I'll put them in tomorrow. Knitted another square for my blanket this evening and watched TV. Nothing happened with the kitchen today so I'll tackle more of that tomorrow.

Spring Break Tuesday - Part One

I am on spring break at the university where I work and the inspiration is just pouring from my fingertips. I just finished an altered postcard for a young woman in Finland whom I received a postcard from via postcrossing. If you are not familiar with postcrossing, check it out at www.postcrossing.com. I have received postcards and sent postcards to like-minded people all over the world.

This particular altered postcard was inspired by a most unusual card I received from Anni, a 20 year old journalism student. She sent me an oversized postcard and included a message of an accounting of her day. I was so touched by this glimpse of her daily life that I instantly started working on a postcard to send back to her that includes elements of her fun day.

Spring Break Monday

The roses are in. Much winter debris is now in a pile in the corner. I don't compost so it will all end up in the green can for trash to haul away to the city composter. So, no waste after all. I purchased a birdbath last summer that for some reason the birds never used. At least I never saw a bird there in all the months it stood waiting for them. So this morning the birdbath became a planter. It is filled now with cosmos, oregano, and German chamomile. There is still plenty of room for more so later today I'll pick up a couple more herbs and set them in. It feels wonderful getting my hands dirty again.

Kris called before leaving school and was hungry. Late lunch, early dinner, call it whatever, we ended up at Vito’s enjoying caesar salad and calzone. The ducks at the lake enjoyed the bread and dough leftovers. It was a lovely hour.

Before going home we stopped at Raleys where I picked up cilantro and dill to add to the birdbath now herb garden. Once it fills in a bit, I take a picture. Right now it is a lot of dirt and splashes of green. Not terribly impressive but give it a week or two and it will look wonderful.

I also picked up the film I finished today. I’ve left a few images here of my cleaned up garden. I was feeling very arty. LOL

Just Ducky

My building where I work is right across from Sequoia Lake. Every spring we are able to watch the male ducks escorting the females everywhere around campus and fighting off competing males. It really is quite funny sometimes and I always cheer when the occasional very resourceful female can slip away from her escorts. But in the end nature always succeeds despite the few independent ladies and the result is an explosion of baby ducks throughout the spring. These pictures are from the second group I've seen. They are about a day old and amazingly fast. Even though I followed them all over, probably totally freaking out the mommy duck, these little guys moved like they had one brain between the bunch of them. I move one way, they moved the other. Looking for a contrasting shot was tough. Mommy kept them in the bushes and undergrowth. There is a reason these little guys are camouflaged. If you look hard you can see them in the road picture. Finally I let mommy and brood waddle off and I finally got my contrast shot in the grass. It was a nice way to start off my morning as I walked into work though I doubt if mommy duck would have agreed with me.

Connections

To my two mountain woman girlfriends.

Biene - V is in Placerville. Vicci - B is in Angels Camp.

You both have inspired me in such marvelous way. B, you got me knitting. V, you got me blogging and writing. B and V and ME - we three love coffee. Starbucks rules.

Today I plant roses, seal the drawers in my kitchen, take a walk, feed the baby ducks, and crop and chop a bunch of photos.

There will be a trip to the bank for my mom's business. Well, there had to be SOMETHING mundane happening today.

When we were wee . . . - Sunday Scribble #3

When I was very young, my dad was in the Navy. When he wasn’t stationed on a ship and overseas, we would live in either California or Illinois. At the time air travel was financially untouchable for most people and even though low ranking military could get along then on one income (unlike today) air travel would have been financial folly.

The romance of the road that is nostalgically recalled as Route 66 was for us a reality. When dad was with us, he would load us up in our old green Nash Ambassador Airflyte. The irony of the name of this car isn’t lost on me either considering cross-country flight was never an option for us. However, I had the entire back of that car for the days long trips back and forth between California, Illinois, and oh, let’s not forget the Korean War era and our trip to stay in Wisconsin. That car was so big you could practically set up housekeeping in the trunk. The backseat was a child-size bed and it was in that backseat that I claim my earliest memory.

Route 66 for us started in Illinois and dropped south through the Texas panhandle, across New Mexico and Arizona until we finally reached California. Somewhere in New Mexico or Arizona it was night and I was tucked into that big old bed of a backseat and was staring up into the desert night sky. I was maybe four at the most and definitely under five because my sister was not yet born. There was little or no moon and the stars were so dense and unbelievably bright. The world then was cleaner, the sky clearer, the stars visible even on a full moon night.

Now, fifty plus years later, when we travel at night through the desert I lean my head up against the car window and gaze at the night sky. It looks a bit different today. Even in the most remote areas one can see a solitary light where some independent soul has decided to live. Or high up on the horizon one can see lights blinking suggesting radio stations, weather stations, or military posts. The sky isn’t as bright, air pollution has dimmed its luster but that earliest memory still sparkles in my heart and mind like the stars that so enchanted me in my long ago childhood.

St. Clare's Retreat Center

Silent retreats at St. Clare's are so rejuvenating. I went to them three years in a row and then stopped. I need to go again. St. Clare's is in Soquel, CA in the Santa Cruz mountain.

Cars and Telephones, and Computers, and Isolation

I've been thinking and writing for the past few of days on how the CTC's of life keep us connected and what happens when we lose these things. Gathering these thoughts and getting it all down is taking longer than I expected but here now are these thoughts.

I am old enough to remember partylines and despite the way that sounds, I am not talking political doctrine or 800 numbers. No. What I am talking about are telephones. For those of you who are part of the cell phone/blue tube generation, you may not know that at one time people shared phone lines. They were called partylines. Today we are beeped if we have incoming calls while on the phone. Back then, we would hear a click if we were on the phone and that was a signal that someone on our partyline needed to make a call. Politeness dictated that we free up the line.

Oh how things have changed. Now we screen calls, ignore calls, block calls, and God knows we don't call back, we just end one call quickly and go on to the next one. So, what in the world, you may ask, got me going on this? Well, a few weeks ago my friend Vicci, who has only a landline, found herself, due to severe weather, intermittently without a telephone and a computer for email. Then her car died. Here she was, a rural living woman caring for her 90 year old father, husband at work and no way to communicate to the world. The results? Isolation.

But WHY isolation? Why not solitude instead? What makes solitude feel positive and isolation feel negative. Is one chosen? Is the other imposed? Is the one pleasing? Does the other feel empty? Can we turn isolation (a negative) into solitude (a positive)? Deep questions all and I find that I am turning to Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore for insight.

Back in my early 20s I first heard of the philosopher, Teilhard de Chardin. This was my first exposure to the idea of a dark night. Then I learned about St. John of the Cross. I saw Gerald May's book on the subject and eventually discovered that the dark night is something that we all encounter. Dark night has certainly been knocking at MY door lately. But it was Vicci's problems with communications that underscored to me how much we, all of us, need each other. It was Vicci's problems with communication that underscored how global meeting people has become and how fragile the maintenance of these friendships and the maintenance of family ties has become. Without computers, Vicci and I would have never met. Without a telephone, we would have never connected for that coffee meet-up at Starbucks that first time we met face to face. Without the computer and cars we would have never been able to share the Day of Art at Penny's house in November 05. That fragility needed a cure and I recently started sending postcards to friends and find that this little written form of communication is both anticipated now and deeply appreciated. It has become my way of not being so dependant on fast modes of communication in such a wired world as we now live in.

Winter has been brutal this year. Well as brutal as it can get for a flatlander like me who does not live in a flood zone and simply has to put up with a lot of rain. But for Vicci, relentless snow and rain has narrowed her world to the occasional ability to move outside of her rural home. And when the car died her world narrowed even further. Her isolation was a huge frustration for HER and by extension, a frustration for all who care about her and want to be in touch with her. However, her "isolation" did turn into a positive, at least for me. It started me on the road of thought about my own "isolation" and how it may be turned into solitude instead and thereby an avenue of change for me.

52 pick up

I have a habit of creating idealized images of myself. Dream (below) is an ATC collage I made a couple of years ago. What first attracted me was the back of the female figure. I hope I'm not breaking every copyright law known to man by using it. I don't sell my work. I create from bits and pieces I find here and there and just for my own satisfaction. This particular ATC was traded off to someone else like much of my work is. This has left me with little of my own work other than what I have scanned to retain the image. I miss not being able to hold my own work.

I recently decided to start a new project of creating a deck of 5x7 cards, 52 in all. I'm starting with my previously created ATCs and altered pages as a starting place for inspiration. I won't be able to create them again exactly as before but I'll have these now to hold and keep.

Dream

More things about me - How true it is

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion: You have medium extroversion. You're not the life of the party, but you do show up for the party. Sometimes you are full of energy and open to new social experiences. But you also need to hibernate and enjoy your "down time." Conscientiousness: You have medium conscientiousness. You're generally good at balancing work and play. When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done. But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it. Agreeableness: You have high agreeableness. You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly. Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise when necessary. You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance. Neuroticism: You have low neuroticism. You are very emotionally stable and mentally together. Only the greatest setbacks upset you, and you bounce back quickly. Overall, you are typically calm and relaxed - making others feel secure. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is medium. You are generally broad minded when it come to new things. But if something crosses a moral line, there's no way you'll approve of it. You are suspicious of anything too wacky, though you do still consider creativity a virtue. http://www.blogthings.com/thefivefactorpersonalitytest/

Back sooner than I expected

I've been doing a lot of thinking, much of it subconscious, for the past two days. It is still a huge shock to me of how creating this blog and writing has opened me up. And I've been discovering other writer/artists so far beyond me that they actually inspire the art of FOCUSING in me. Case in point - http://growwings.blogspot.com/ Laini is amazing and after reading her Sunday Scribble from today and then looking at it again, I realized the 14 year old girl she was writing about was ME!! Well, not literally, of course, but at 58 I feel myself definitely slipping sideways to the left and seeing all manner of new possibilities.

Don and I celebrated our 28th anniversary last night over dinner at a favorite restaurant of our's, Henri's. We talked a lot about our frustrations at work and though there is no immediate solution in sight, it was certainly helpful to both of us, I think, that we were able to talk about our various challenges. I don't know where this is all going to end up but I do know that if nothing else, I will work for four more years and THEN be totally prepared to walk into something else whatever that may be.

Taking a Break

I need to take a break for a few days. I've spent so much time here that I've totally gotten behind working on my art journal class I'm taking through Artella. I've been taking an on-line art journaling class for about nine weeks now. The class cost me only $40 and has been so worth the price. My friend Lotus took this class previously and that is how I found out about it. The next class starts the end of May. Please check out the link below. If you like what you see and decide to sign up for the class, tell Zura Annie sent you. I'm so happy I took this class. Not only do I have an art journal now, I also have a terrific tips, techniques and art exercises book. The link is : http://artellawordsandart.com/ZuraBethLedbetter.html The most important thing I've learned from art journaling and blogging is that the journal is for the inner me that I might share individually; the blog is the part(s) of my world that I don't mind sharing. Sometimes the two overlap like the knitting I will post here eventually and the art journal page I'm working on now that was inspired by the knitting. So see you all again in a few days. I'm off to various places and Don has told me not to make any plans for this evening. Today is our 28th anniversary and he has cooked up a surprise.

New Meaning to the Phrase "French Postcards"

Over the past few years Francine has cleared material clutter from her life. She has been relentless and brutal in her quest of simplicity. But since she knows that my idea of simplicity does not match hers at all, I have come into possession of some amazing treasures. Case in point - She was given the most remarkable collection of over 100 postcards by her cousin who lives in France. They all date from early 1910 through May 1911. They are all from one man to one woman - Phaa's grandparents. I was fascinated by the tale of their romance and how little was actually known of it. I find that it is all the empty spaces that, if filled with imaginings, would make a great love story. Since the real story is now forever lost in time, I asked Phaa to write me of what she DID know. Here is the story that surrounds the postcards of Henri to Yvonne.

Dear Annie,

I feel lucky, happy and relieved that you WANTED to acquire the box of my French Grandmother's 1910 postcards from the mysterious "H" whom my cousin Edith managed to deduce meant Henri. My own mother's actual father.

A few notes on Grandmere: Mademoiselle Yvonne Pardon, variously residing on Rue de L'Epe de Bois, Paris; in Cemboing (Jussy, Haute Soane); and in adulthood, in Salon-de-Provence between Arles and Marseille in the south. She was born sometime during the 1890s in Finisterre, Britanny, northernmost France. Yvonne was one of 4-5 sisters, another one of whom was the infamous Aunt Jerry (Tante Germaine) I sometimes mention. Yvonne became pregnant (scandelously) with my mother Gisele prior to marriage with this violin-playing Henri, who then disappeared into WWI. The dates are wrong so he probably was either disinterested or reluctant, a possible "fact" supported by Yvonne's description to me 50-years later: "He was a zero." But! as Edith said, when handing the postcards over to me last year when Gary and I visited the family now residing in the countryside south of Salon: "Ca, c'etais l'amour." Meaning, this box of postcards, sent by Henri, preserved by Yvonne, THAT was real love. Edith also gave me Henri's old violin, which you saw, Annie and Krista. Yvonne later married Emile Ripert and together they produced Josette, Gisele's 10-years younger half-sister and Edith's mother. Josette died about a year ago, after a life of close family ties. Her other two children, both sons, remain close together with Edith and their various spouses and offspring now constitute a group of about 15 relatives, most of whom we got to know during our wonderful visit last year.

French Postcards

Walking the walk

Saturday was walking day. Not that it was a scheduled thing but after lunch Francine got Kris and I out walking. So we three ladies dressed in pink plus Gary were off. First bit of news, "look up the hill Annie, that is where we are going". Oh my, I am thinking to myself. I am so out of shape. Will I embarrass myself by breaking down? Will my back spazz out on me? Will my feet in their fake Burkies fail me? There was only one way to find out so I was off. I have to admit that going UP the hill after the deceptively easy start was a real shock. Several stops to catch my breath in the company of the patient and supportive Gary got me to the top. Kris and Phaa had scooted way ahead of us by this time but the trip was worth it. The walk to the top of the hill through several blocks of neighbor ended up at a fabulous view of the entire lower South Bay. I was so proud of myself. I actually did it and never once indulged in a mental grumble over how the heck I had gotten to this moment in time. I felt instead a great sense of achievement. I also discovered that walking and confronting and conquering a hill was much more achievable and interesting than walking on a treadmill and programming in a hill. THAT is totally boring and easy to turn away from. But that HILL!! I just was not going to let it beat me. Unfortunately, now back at home there isn't a hill in sight. Not even a ripple.

Villa Montalvo

Montalvo is a non-profit organization dedicated to forging meaningful connections between art, artists and the communities we serve, through creation, presentation and education in extraordinary ways and settings. Located in the Saratoga hills Montalvo occupies a Mediterranean-style villa on 175 stunning acres, which Senator James Duval Phelan left to the people of California for the encouragement of art, music, literature, and architecture.

Back in the early to mid 1980's I was living in San Jose, CA. Don was going to school. Then I was going to school. We lived in married student house that was so substandard that even the roaches filed complaints for tenant abuse. But is was while I was living there that I discovered the dream place, Villa Montalvo in Saratoga, CA. Saratoga is a small town where a 3,000 sq. ft. house is probably considered a cottage. I went to the Villa a few times to art openings and drove around Saratoga weaving fantasies of life behind any of the doors I drove past.

When I visited Francine and Gary this weekend with Krista, we drove around in the afternoon exploring Los Gatos Village, which is just up the road from Saratoga. Gary and Phaa are considering moving there and so we explored back streets throughout the village looking at likely property. Eventually we moved on to Saratoga. Entering the town, we passed the sign for Villa Montalvo and I jumped at the opportunity to see this dream place again.

In fact, it isn't just the place itself but also the road leading up to the villa that stirs my imagination. The road is lined with magnificent homes and landscaping both natural and by design; one hardly knows where to look first. What was amazing is that I recognized and remembered EVERY home we drove by even after the passage of 20 years. Little had changed except for the random home that I spotted that had not been there before. Francine couldn't believe I remembered the road and was, in fact, able to note the houses that were not there before. But it was, after all, my dream and I had visited often. How could I forget?

I'm glad I had the chance to experience this special place again. It was interesting to discover that during a time when I had little of material value, I didn't covet what I could not have. Now 20 years later, it is easy for me to sit back and admire what others possess but like that earlier time, I don't desire it. I can enjoy the dream without feeling any hunger to make it a reality. This is a very comfortable feeling to have in this latter period of my life.