This happens infrequently! One day someone will be here to take photos when it presents because I cannot do it on my own. It is the wind that causes the magic. It blows from the south and the east, randomly, sometimes in unison. The trees and bushes are certainly dancing and proclaiming the presence of wind. But until I get outdoors and raise the wand from the bubble solution bottle I have no idea - no breath is needed; there is no time to even consider raising the wand to lips; the wind is there. The bubbles fly from the wand and travel far to the north, to the west. If it seems to subside I need only turn the wand slightly and that erratic wind masses into the film that holds the spheres - and releases them. It requires effort to stop and come indoors.
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Tea blend of the day
This is a nice combination of flavours: licorice root .... fenugreek seeds ....... lapsang souchong tea. The sweetness of the licorice and smokyness of the souchong make a pleasing combination. It was an intuitive measure - I just put in the amount of each that felt right. The second brewing is stronger and suits the ongoing morning.
Filming on the Avenue (Oak Bay; Victoria BC) : Gracepoint
The Village was in major 'shutdown' yesterday as the filming of Gracepoint took over.
This is looking west in the early morning: normal traffic - including the buses! - were detoured.
And this is facing east toward the actual area where the filming happened.
It was quite surreal.
Haiku: trees at sunrise
Trees in silhouette
Softened by newborn buds; soon
Contrast will be gone.
Dolls!
This sudden urge to make dolls again (and what causes this??!!) got me seeking out those I have made in the past.
The ballerina and mermaid were done more than twenty years ago and are showing their age. They are nicely pose-able and on more than one occasion, the ballerina, perched on a shelf, would suddenly have a limb move and startle me considerably.
These are English peddler dolls, made with a clothespin base, displaying their wares from toys to bread to cooking utensils; one is knitting, of course. They are around thirty years old and I only have a picture of them: they were part of an art show.
This sunbather couple is part of a series of dolls made from rocks over the past twenty years. Large ones have occupied the garden and the veranda; small ones are paper weights in the house. Each one is named: they are characters!
This is the doll knotted from the interfacing material I was using to wrap Christmas gifts and the first in the recent parade. I love the fluidity of this doll and how she places herself depending on where she is 'placed'. For the photo shoot it was a seat; in the kitchen, on the table, she leans back against a clear glass vase holding knitting needles.
This is a doll in progress. I'm not entirely sure she is going to 'work' to the vision I have of her but so far it looks promising. It's a slow progress, a slow unfolding with only a few inches happening in each session. What is interesting is that her name is Millie - so I suppose, having this established, she is planning on making a definite appearance - and - I had better go and take those knitting needles out of her!!!
Haiku: Confession of a fibre artist who leaves the edges free
Little old ladies,
Behind me in queues, tend to
Pick off hanging threads.
Dolls: Day 5 doll
(re-post ; part of the series)
I took a workshop with Joy Macleod and this doll came home with me. We continue to get to know one another. Innocent and talisman were the two cards I chose before the session; or they chose me.
Fibre archeology ; repurposed thrift store skirt : pot-pourri vase / pillow
A medium weight linen skirt was discovered in a fibre archeology jaunt at a thrift store dig. It had a broken zipper.
A rectangle of the lovely fabric was cut from the front of the skirt and turned into a pillow.
An irregular piece of raw silk material- I think this was from a box of remnants at a rummage sale - was sewn diagonally onto one side of the pillow and left open at the top to provide - well, an opening.
The pillow was then filled with pot-pourri from last season's plants and sewn up.
It can be used as a vase in which to put a January garden harvest such as this rosemary and a sprig of sweet woodruff. Once dried these will be crushed and added to the ongoing collection of pot-pourri for either another pillow or other uses.
It is also quite wonderful as a pillow - the fragrance releases when touched.
And it is filled with such things as rose petals, scented geranium, Australian bushmint, sage, sweetgrass ....
Dialogue with a crow
You have to imagine Young Mr. Crow sitting right there, on the wire, because when he was actually doing so I did not think to take a photo. It was his subsequent behaviour that made me wish I had captured him from the start. That I had gotten a few photos of him lazily preening his feathers, checking out his toes, rubbing his head on his shoulder, absorbed in his own world, not at all alert to the world around him. In retrospect he was a teenager with his earplugs in.
I threw out a peanut. Normally, when I do this, if there is a crow in sight, it immediately swoops down. Most of the time, if I throw a peanut, and not a bird is in sight, one will suddenly appear and swoop down. So it was rather unusual to see YMrC pay no attention. I watched, fascinated, and was just on the point of getting up from the restaurant's patio, picking up the peanut, waving it at the bird, and tossing it again.
He suddenly sat up straight, looked down, spotted the peanut, sailed down. I suspect crows can smell food and the fragrance of peanut finally got through to whatever music he was bopping to.
Now this is funny: he looked at the peanut as if he had never seen such a thing before. Maybe he hadn't. He walked around it. Peered at it more closely. Stepped back and seemed thoughtfully puzzled or puzzledly thoughtful.
Stepped up to it again and nudged it with his beak.
At last he put one foot on it and broke open the shell.
At one point he picked the whole thing up and I thought he was going to fly away with it but, no, he changed his mind. Went for the other half.
A passerby startled him and he did then walk a few feet away. Actually, maybe it wasn't the person passing; maybe he wanted to get in the shade.
He finished the peanut, flew back up onto the wire, sat there briefly and kept looking around, maybe wondering if another would appear.
I did not have any more.
He flew away.
A dialogue? Yes. The kind one tends to have with an adolescent.