Tuesday, June 5, 2012
A Different Drummer...
In recent months, I've broken away from the pack, and have been in a totally different space... wandering about within the confines of my own mind - a fairly expansive place, to be sure, but somewhat restricted when it comes to sharing with the rest of the world. I've made some music, done some sewing, taken some classes, started several new quilts, revived about 25% of my garden, adopted a couple of new cats, done far too much drinking and not enough exercising, am very grateful I didn't make any New Years resolutions because they'd be shot to shit by now, and am, only now beginning to come out of my fog. It hasn't been a bad time, and I don't regret any of the isolation... in fact, I enjoyed it. I really think all of us have a serious need to veg out now and then, so I gave in to it, and that's pretty much what I've been doing.
Today, Martin and I spent much of the afternoon running in and out of the house, looking through our telescope, which was set up on our back patio, at the transit of Venus. It wasn't the most exciting thing we've ever done - not as bad as watching paint dry, but certainly more interesting than a baseball game, and something we like to do. Astronomy fascinates us both, and this was an astronomical phenomenon in the once-in-a-lifetime category. Actually, it was a twice-in-a-lifetime event, but the first event, in 2004, was whacked by bad weather, so we missed it. This was The Big One... it won't happen again until 2117, by which time we'll, hopefully, have a much better seat from which to observe it, but it won't be quite the same as standing on our nice back yard patio.
This evening is quiet and wind free; the crickets are cricking, the neighborhood dogs are conversing over their respective fences, and the traffic on the Interstate is barely audible. A train is clattering along the tracks across the river, it's multi-toned whistle echoing across the water, and filling me with memories of childhood nights lying awake in an upstairs bedroom of my grandparents rambling ranch house, and listening to the trains rumble by through the lower acreage down by the ocean. I miss those times, but am thankful for the delicious memories that will hold me as long as I need them.
This weekend, I'll be giving a talk at a local art gallery where I currently have five of my quilts on exhibit. The curator had a pie-in-the-sky idea that I could teach people to make a quilt in an afternoon, and scheduled me for that before I was fully aware of what she wanted. After I assured her that wasn't possible, we settled on me presenting some of my finished and unfinished work, and telling people how I do what I do. It should be fun, and I'm looking forward to dredging out some of my works in progress and talking about what makes me tick, quilt-wise. If you're in the area and would like to come, please let me know, and I'll give you the where and when details you'll need.