Blog

Since I have no new pictures this week I thought I would talk about the boxes I have made. Not all of them. Certainly not the boxes made from the countries I have traveled to (I showed them not too long ago on this blog). But just a variety of them filled with interesting things to complete their stories.

First is The Green Tea House that I still own. It was inspired by an early teaching job at Arrowmont School in Tennessee. I was totally taken by a young clay student’s celadon tea bowl. So once home I built this house for it, a shifu rolled up rug, drawer for green tea, etc. One could have their own private tea ceremony using this box/house.

The rug fits in the attic. A strainer I made from small cane sits sideways in the shaped space. Green tea is in the drawer. A votive candle in a frosted holder sits on its own shelf. A spare candle is in another drawer with matches. The light’s shade folds into a space made for it. The book for writing a meditation fits next to the tea bowl on the bottom floor. The roof is a shaped and hammered copper. And the door closes with a bamboo latch.  I loved making a house-shaped box to hold all the parts.

And then this one…The Traveler’s Box. It sold at an exhibition. Finding and making just the right pieces to fit in their spaces was an adventure. I put myself in the traveler’s head and simply collected.

Only the lower half unlatches to drop down and show the interior…a journal and his collected bits.

Here is what it says behind the mica in the upper right.

From the Traveler’s Box

By S. Webster

Once he returned from his travels,

there was so much to sort through.

So many memories.

Which ones to keep and which to let go.

Who to remember and who to forget.

This next one was for a miniature book challenge of a book making group I belonged to in Asheville, NC. I made my miniature book and then made a house to hold all the books made.

And the house-shaped box that all the pieces fit into.

It was auctioned off to raise funds, won by a friend’s husband, kept for several years and then given to their grand daughter.

And these that I had such a good time making. All but the one I kept had sold of The Curiosity Boxes.

This one titled, The Witches Daughter (named after a poem in the tall book I made to house it, now hangs over my bed as part of a collection of “things that matter”.

A friend sent me a post card from a museum shop that showed this Chinese puzzle box. I just had to figure out how it was assembled to make a couple for myself. I only had the one view and no instructions of how to make it work. The center section must be removed or the doors will not open.

Here is The Chinese Box.

And what is hidden in two of the doors. And old man’s shop and the sewing room.

The Chinese one has a harmony ball in its center and the Japanese one below has something I forgot behind the mica windows.

There are copies of wood cut prints behind this door. A Japanese garden with sand and rake behind another, lotus pods, etc. behind the others.

This box/book I made while receiving instructions from Gian Frontini on how to use my kangaroo hide to shape over the book/box. I used a disassembled traveler’s compass to embed in the cover and use as a latch to keep it closed. Inside is a collection of things from down under and a reproduction of an Australian painting titled, The Traveler.

And another box with collapsing sides housing an old padlock. The key is on the cover.

And one of the last series of boxes I made…Self Portrait from the Shelters Series. Evidently I have used up all the space for today. So til later….This post was fun to do.

Here is a simple meal to make…..Shrimp and Pasta.

Heat olive oil in a pan and when hot, put in a carton of grape or cherry tomatoes. Shake around until they split. Add chopped garlic, green onion if you have it, and several handfuls of baby spinach that you have cut into smaller pieces.  Now add one cup of medium-sized thawed shrimp to cook a few minutes until pink. Meanwhile cook pasta, angel hair, until just right (not soft). Drain the pasts (I do this with a wire spider so as to save the pasta water) and dump into the pan where shrimp, spinach, onion and garlic are cooking and toss til well mixed. Add some parmesan cheese and mix it in. You could also toss in some capers. Add some pasta water to keep it all pliable, stir and serve with more parmesan on top.

Whole meal takes less than 20 minutes to make and there is plenty of leftovers for two to three more meals. Tasty and healthy.

I dragged the newly painted bench out under the windows in the living room. The paint I had matched the tone of the cedar pergola. So it went in the space I was thinking of putting a swing, glider, whatever. Then I realized, why would I sit there in the sun when I have a rocker, table and chairs on the porch. Good thing I am learning to think more before pressing the “buy now” button on Amazon.

My yardman comes this week to help kill weeds and clean out the pond. I will ask him to flip over the bench so I can get more paint on the bottom of the legs. Also I can ask him what I could put on the bench to help hide the outlet I was hoping it would cover…..always something not quite right.

And knowing friends in Tasmania were still gathering to make things, I started a patch piece with fabrics I bought there at WafuWorks.

This morning I decided to dig out some of the threads I bought there, add them to others I had, and just draw them to fill out the two pages. So here is the latest page in the Gatherings Book.

I am back to writing. Another piece for the Brevity book.

 

Here and There

 

I will stay over here

  on the side of knowing

  that those over there

  have made the wrong choice.

 

And this one that only seems long because I kept it to a column of words instead of stanzas.

 

Old

 

Do you have any idea

how little things matter

once we get to Old?

That place hidden from view

somewhere up ahead.

Until suddenly here we are,

being escorted off the train

with all the things

we thought we needed.

We are told to “settle in”,

another train will come

one day to take us further.

But not today.

Once we discover

what Old has to offer,

we call it home.

Unpack our baggage

only to toss half in the bin,

and get comfortable

with what we cling to.

Mostly fragments

of things we remember.

We find ways to keep

them close as we sort

through their meanings.

Some of us will measure

each one carefully into

a simmering pot,

wanting sustenance

for weeks to come.

Others will take the time

to scribble all they can

on pages of blank journals

to be read later by them

or those left behind ___

after the train comes through.

I will thread my needle

and hold onto pieces of my past

while I sew them together.

Never mind that the stitches

are easily distracted as they

wander across the surface

of what used to be.

 

None of it matters.

 

This last one came to me as I stitched those Japanese fabric scraps from WafuWorks and thinking of friends still gathering to share their memories together. I like thinking I am there with them keeping my hands busy and laughter on the tip of my tongue.

It occurred to me that the stitching lines were not only uneven but actually meandered a bit. I never pulled out a thread, nor did I even think of putting it out of sight. I finished my stitching and smiled that I still want to do more. Then picked up my pencils and drew.

Til later….

Yesterday was my last day of having someone test my balance and endurance. It was a very hot but rewarding walk to make it through the field to the gym using a single walking stick in the company of someone watching over me. I might go to tai chi tomorrow but will drive if the heat stays near ninety.

Last night was my first night out. A fund raising music event with two neighbors singing in the choir. Beautiful voices. I watched a middle-aged man in the men’s section and thought his voice quite pleasing. So I told my friend who took me there, that he would be nice to take home, sit him in the dining (they are too loud when they stand) and have him sing as I went about my chores and studio work. By the end I changed my mind. It was enough. I also was interested in the fit of the slacks/pants of the various conductors. Lots of wrinkles gathered under the buttocks with a tuck up high in the thigh, then smooth-ish until the back of the knee where they cascade in wrinkles to the heel. I would think black robes would be a good idea when they take to the elevated stand with backs to the audience. Or I should just enjoy the music and keep my mind on that!

This drawing took me two days to complete. I was following what basketmaking friends in Tasmania were posting and how they were spending their time together. Seemed to be lots of cut cloth (mostly wool blankets) being coiled around firm bases of wood and shell.

I liked having pencils in my hands and trying to get what is in my head down on the page.

I will return to stitched cloth when I turn the page.

And two days ago this delightful original print arrived from Patsy in Australia. She sent me her dragon a couple of months ago. I love her work!

I found a frame this morning that was in my new storage cabinets in the garage. Now it is hung not too far away from the dragon in the dining area.

Later this afternoon I will go back into town to watch a movie with MJ and a couple of the guys. I will need to be back here for the family call at seven.

Today was my very last physical with my doctor of over thirty years. She checked all that needed looked over and has given me a good bill of health. We ended by settling on the doctor I wanted to take over the responsibility of poking and prodding come next year. It will be a young man with a nice smile and a sense of humor. I doubt he will have to do it for the next thirty years but we can make a start.

Not much else new. Just getting better each day.

Til later….

I ordered these five pound weights on advice from one of the physical therapist. Then I removed two pounds from each one to make them more usable for where I am now. Shoulders, arms and legs can get a better workout with these. With the addition of the stretch bands they gave me, I am getting some good workouts. Plus the fellows have started me walking on the road, but only with them and a walking stick so far. I go a bit further each time.

The six way book has a new drawing/painting. The Wooly Mullein.

One of the therapists told me that Native Americans used to collect the seeds and once a year toss them in the water to drive the fish to the surface. Then they could catch enough to process for winter. Interesting. As a kid, I always liked this weed. It seemed impossible to kill and the feel of those lovely soft, fuzzy leaves was delightful. Speaking of weeds, my yardman is coming the following week to help rid my yard of those taking advantage of my weakness. That and to clean out my pond…algae is clogging the little pump.

I took the black bench off the front entryway, painted it with a color that matches the cedar pergola and will wait until someone stronger comes by and ask them to put it outside under the living room windows. I might put some pots on it come Spring. But for now it will just be waiting outside in the weather.

More phyllo pastries with cheeses, ham and spinach were needed. They make a good meal when effort is too elusive. Most of them are now waiting in the freezer.

The cats are such good companions and will move to whatever room I am in.

I went to my first poetry critique this past Thursday and read the latest poem. This one has inspired me to slowly work on a book to be titled, Brevity. Short pieces that are centered on spacious pages. When I wrote this one, it came all at once with no thinking or planning. I loved how those who might have witnessed this woman could take comfort in her easy passing and perhaps their own one day.

 

Her Last Breath

 

When she drew her last breath,

   it came with the smell

   of strawberries.

 

She closed her lips and smiled

   as she savored

   the last one.

 

And this one from a couple weeks ago. Definitely more autobiographical.

 

There is a Door      

 

There is a door

that doesn’t want to close.

 

I know this because it bounces

back from the door jamb

whenever I pass through.

 

Whatever is behind me

wants to follow, tap my shoulder,

and say, “Don’t forget me.”

 

I pause and say,

“What?”

“What do I need to remember?”

 

But the door just hangs there

on its hinges waiting until I return,

to gently pull it closed.

 

It drags its feet across the threshold,

sighing at my determination

to shut a door behind me.

 

Humidity and heat are slowing me down. I can’t wait until the cooler days of Fall.

In the meantime I write and build my body strength back to what it was two months ago…maybe better!

Til later….