I came home from work tonight and realized I really had to water the fruit trees. I planted them a couple months ago, two apples and a pear. I planted them on a terrace Mr. Spouse built last year.
Mr. Spouse does like to build things, especially when it involves stone.
We backfilled the terrace with Gucci dirt. Topped it with pony poop. Got a GREAT crop o’weeds growing between the trees. Thick and lush, waist high. Orchard grass. Rye grass. Wild peas. The biggest clover you’ve ever seen.
Umm…too green to whack just yet. Too tall to mow. But they blend in with the rest of our forest home. And yes, they will go away soon enough. A little slatted table will take their place. A couple of colorful chairs.
Meanwhile, it’s Sophie’s favorite place. She disappears in there. The weeds close over her head. She’s too busy hunting to come when called…all sorts of critters call the terrace home. Lots of rodent holes and I’ve seen a bunny or two.
Which is why I’m not bothering with a garden this year.
I had to water the trees by hand. Haul the water up the hill two buckets at a time. The hose was otherwise engaged and the irrigation isn’t in yet. So it was just me and a couple of buckets in A Little House in the Big Woods moment. Which is fitting since we DO live in the big woods.
Me and the buckets and the bees. Bazillions of big fat bees buzzing around the peas and clover. They weren’t bothered by me and I wasn’t bothered by them. By the way, do you realize how hard it is to photograph those suckers? They move faster than my auto focus.
A piece of clover caught on my shoe and followed me into the house. Told you it was big!
This time last year we woke up to snow. Ah, spring!
Helloooooooo, my sweetums! Been a long time. Took the weekend off from posting. Oh man, what a vacation that was. Channeled my creativity into painting. Yes indeed. Got some ART to show you.
But first…the weather report.
Remember all that rain I bitched about rejoiced over last week? Sumthin’ like 12 inches by the Friday evening news. That’s a whole lot ‘o wet. Indeed.
But Saturday we woke up to SUN! Blue skies. Big yellow orb. Heaven. Pure heaven. For a couple of hours.
Walked outside and it was like an enchanted forest around here. All that water going back up to the sky.
But it came down again. Only colder. Next morning we woke up to a different kind of enchantment. The kind that makes the dogs crazy happy.
But that’s enough about weather. Happens one way or another, every day. So let’s move on to ART! YAY!!! Let’s hear it for studio time. YAY!
I can’t hear you. Let’s do it again. LOUDER!
YAY!
Much better. Okay, so here are some works-in-progress. All acrylics. 12×24, (2) 24×24, 40×40. The closest one to being finished is the one with the woman.
'In Her Dreams' by Susan Lobb Porter. Acrylic on canvas, 24x24
Pretty close to being done. Might be, in fact. But until it walks out the door to a new home I always reserve the right to make changes. Just because I can.
Oh, how I enjoyed being in the studio. Enjoyed being productive. Did some thinking while I was painting and realized I need to do more of that. But since there’s only so many hours in the day something’s got to give. So I decided to cut back on the blog schedule. Instead of posting EVERY DAY (Is that nuts or what???) I’m cutting back to three days a week. At least for the time being. To make things easy to remember, I’m thinking Monday, Wednesday, Friday.
So I’ll see you Wednesday. Remember, that’s Random Acts of Art day. If you’ve got a link to share, there’ll be a link up on my blog. You can also send your photos to me and I’ll post them here. If you’re sending photos, be sure I get them by Tuesday afternoon, Pacific time (California). Can’t wait to see what you have to share!
Mr. Spouse builds things. If his attention wanders when I’m talking to him I know he’s calculating the price of lumber or how many sacks of cement he needs the next day. And no, this is not what he does for a living. This is what he does to relax.
Which is fine by me. Especially since his latest project is my new studio. Here are the photos from this weekend–because this is a weekend only project. As long as the La Nina keeps messing with our winter the building will continue. I expect the snow and rain will come eventually, it snowed well into May last year and even a few flurries in June–but if it can hold off just a couple more weeks until he can get it dried in…ah, bliss.
This is taken from where the door will be. The wall on the left faces north and will have no windows. There will be skylights. The wall straight ahead will have two large windows with a counter running the length of the wall. It faces east. The wall to the right will also have a counter. The windows will take up the entire wall. It faces south.
This is the view from the windows on the east wall. The two brown buildings are the hay shed and the barn, more of Mr. Spouse’s handiwork. As is the green building which is his workshop. Or as Missy B says, “Grandpa’s house”.
I’ll be able to look out at the horses while I work. I don’t know where they were when I took the photo, somewhere out there but not in sight of the camera.
This is the view to the south. Umm…I see a garden here someday. Maybe a patch of lavender, a level little patio with a small table and chairs. I will put that idea out into the universe and see what happens. The universe in this case being Mr. Spouse because his other vice is building stone walls. We have a lot of stone walls around here. Matter of fact, the studio will have a stone facade.
This is what you’ll see when you step out the door and look straight up. This is facing west.
So that’s how studio-to-be progressed this week. I worked in Studio Grande today but nothing is ready to show. Maybe tomorrow.
Now I’m going to settle into the comfy chair and read the first draft of my friend Mitzi’s novel. A nice way to spend a Sunday evening.
Yesterday I climbed into the attic and threw stuff down through the trap door. Christmas stuff. Garlands. Bags o’seasonal treasures. If it was breakable then I carried it halfway down the ladder (the steep-narrow-shouldn’t-climb-this-thing-with-your-hands-full ladder) before tossing it onto my son’s old bed. Bouncing is good. Shattering is not.
So now, twenty-four plus hours later, most of it’s still on the floor of my son’s old room. Or on his bed. Everything except…ta ta…drumroll please–the lights!
Because if nothing else happens this Christmas, having a few lights up makes me happy. Very happy. So happy I could stop right there. But I won’t because we’ve got a two year old coming.
Toddler+Christmas=BLING.
Last year, in a moment of absolute freakin’ BRILLIANCE, I carefully put each strand of lights in it’s very own bag as soon as I took it down. It’s own special bag with a label. A label that said where it was supposed to go. Front windows. Back Windows. Tree.
Here’s the dining room without lights.
Boring. Positively spartan. Come January I’ll be eager to return to the simplicity. But now, see what a difference a couple strands of icicle lights makes.
Ohhhhhhhhhh…. And now, the same before and after in the living room.
Before. Complete with exercycle and floor pillow jumble on the window seat.
After. All the stuff stuff will go away. The tree will be to the right. But it’s a start.
And then there’s the reflections.
Ahhh…
And now I’ll leave you with the song that’s been bouncing around in my head all day. My go-to Christmas decorating song.
Don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll embed another one in your head. But not until this one becomes hardwired in your brain cells.
This fella showed up on my doorstep the other day. Well, practically. He was in the driveway, posing. The photos were taken through the dining room window. And the screen. So if they’re a little fuzzy, well, that’s just the way it is.
Never was much for washing windows.
Look at him. Bold as you please. Absolutely no fear. Captain of the football team. Mr. I’m-So-Cool. This morning he sauntered alongside the truck as I was adjusting my seat belt. Sauntered like he hadn’t a care in the world. Practically brushing up against the side of the truck. I’m surprised his antlers didn’t knock the mirror askew. Seriously, I could’ve reached out and touched him…if I was stupid.
Because this is the time of the year bucks go bad. I’ve seen them going at it like something from Animal Planet. I’ve had to seek refuge among the horses as lusty deer boys duked it out between the barn and the house. Crazy bonkers absolutely insane. Snorting. Huffing. Banging heads. Going after each other like a couple Marines in a barfight insane.
So I keep my distance. Admire them from afar. Don’t want to be labeled with the code my vet uses when dogs and deer mingle. She calls it GBB, Gored by Bambi.
I collect bird nests. Ones that have fallen to the ground and are of no use to their former tenants. I usually find them in the fall, after a storm with a lot of wind. Just lying there in the dirt or a pile of leaves, waiting for me to take it home.
Some have remnants of eggs. Pieces of shell.
One had the eggs themselves. This one was found in the spring. Poorly constructed. Barely held together. I watched it for a couple of days but no one came to claim it. I hope Mr. & Mrs. Bird built a new one and tried again.
Most of the nests around here are heavy on the horse hair.
A good swish of the tail too close to a tree…or even a good rub results in building material.
Long strands from manes and tails are woven with twigs and whatever else is handy.
Sometimes they’re made with the soft fuzzy stuff from spring shedding. Little bit of blue baling twine shredded and incorporated into the decor. Not very elegant but I’m sure it’s warm.
And then there’s my own creation. Copper wire. Polyclay eggs. Needs a TV and a fridge before I’ll be moving in.
