Moonshadow

Today I have been working on yet another fabric thing, using words from Cat Stevens' Moonshadow. I got really excited about it and thought it was working out wonderfully, but the overall picture is drab. This close-up is much better. Will I do it again? Everything is so layered...it is easy to forget in what order I did things...the pigment has to dry between applications, or in some cases if I am on a roll it doesn't have a chance to dry and then new interesting things happen.

Springtime in Georgia

It is good to live in Georgia in spring. I remembered this today; in fact, this is the only reason to live in Georgia. And the best thing about spring is wisteria.

This wisteria grows across the street on our neighbor's property. I have never met them; I have only seen them at a distance when they stop by in their pick-up to get stuff. They moved out a year ago or so when a tree fell on their house and they decided not to live there anymore. (Can you see the tarp on the roof?) More recently we've seen the fancier cars of realtors and developers stopping by. It is only a matter of time before the house is bulldozed and a small development of 'quaint european-style cluster homes' or some such thing goes in. That's the way of it in my eclectic neighborhood. (Our realtor also told us her brother caught lice from the girl who lived in this house when they were in high school. Uh, yes, go ahead and bulldoze away!) I hope they don't take out the wisteria-covered tree, though.


The other reason to live in Georgia is to be able to stop on the side of the road and get boiled peanuts. I loooove boiled peanuts, good and soft and salty! I am sorry if you do not live in Georgia and cannot enjoy these things right now. Let's say if you have to live in Ohio, for example. Do they even have wisteria in Ohio?

...that all the glories of the universe may beautify it.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I have to laugh: just found a write-up of Ella Wheeler Wilcox in the back of Garrison Keillor's Good Poems. It goes:
"Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) produced nearly forty volumes of poetry, poems about temperance, spiritualism, sentimental poems, which critics loved to scorn and millions of readers took to their collective bosom. Except for "Solitude," her work has mostly disappeared in the gentle mists."

I would pick a verse by a poet whom critics (used-to-when-they-knew-her) loved to scorn!

Roman Capitals misbehaving

There is a quotation by Eric Gill floating in my mind, 'Letters are things, not pictures of things.' These letters are definitely Things. They were supposed to help me compose a piece, but instead they curled and suddenly seemed like playful little animals, so I took their picture to capture the nice shadows and consider the possibilities. (they are about an inch and a half high)