An early start to the days this week. My cleaning lady helped me find her favorite nursery and just one hour later they had my two new trees planted in the yard. A weeping plum and an October Glory maple. More privacy in the view from my sunroom.
We are having beautiful Spring weather right now, so I am looking to freshen things up a bit around here. This morning I mixed up my bug deterrent to spray around the foundation. Mainly to keep out the occasional centipede and those pesky crickets. They have no resemblance to Jiminy Cricket or I would welcome them in. These look more like the ones a person would buy at a pet store to feed their lizards at home trapped in a glass aquarium staring back at kids who just had to bring them back from a trip to Florida.
Last night was the annual call from friends in Australia that finished their workshops at Grampians Texture in Halls Gap, Victoria. For over an hour I got to see the amazing work they did and were continuing to work on in the house we all rented together for many years. They are so talented in their embroidery, drawing, building of books and boxes. I miss being in the middle of that, helping by tossing out more ideas on how to say what they are expressing. They also brought along other greetings from other students I’ve had over the years. It was wonderful! I sipped an Australian wine as we caught up. After we said goodbye, they sent images of a cockatoo and kangaroo who came to visit.
Speaking of extraordinary students down under, I woke to see the news of one that continues to leave an impression on me. Charlotte Drake Brockman passed away a couple of weeks ago. She was the subject for an entry for the Archibald award portrait in Australia. I stayed with her and Inga Hunter in my early days of teaching down under and Charlotte was a favorite to share a scotch with when we were at the same venues. Here is the portrait entered in the Archibald.
She and Inga colored my hair orange and pink one morning after eating a breakfast Charlotte made me of scrambled eggs and those dreaded (at the time) fried tomatoes. Not fried as Americans think of fried, breaded and deep fried, but simply tossed in the frying pan next to the eggs. You did not say no to Charlotte. She lived to be 92 and I hope she had tomatoes and scotch up to the end. I loved her company, her independent thinking, her self-assuredness and her style.
Anyway, I promised my friends down under that I would get busy and make something to show them next year and in our frequent emails. I think something mechanical in nature…something that moves and tells a story would be fun. I told them it is hard to be joyful in a country that produced the kind of people who support Trump. They told me of their not knowing if there will be gas at the stations in the small towns they must drive through in their long trip back home. We are so ignorant and self-centered here in this country that we have no idea that the war Trump has waged on Iran and their response has caused a backup of trucks waiting for gas to come into the country and be delivered into these small towns. My country makes me embarrassed and sick for what we have let a deranged leadership get away with. I will disappear into my studio and busy my hands.
I do continue to stitch the shawl.
And now with Spring arriving, I have found more leaves to draw and paint into my book.
I might go get a bit of lunch. After this morning’s breakfast of French toast with Greek yogurt, maple syrup, and strawberries, I am not that hungry.
Okay, I need to have a bite to eat then thread a needle.
Til later…