Fresh Berries

Licking's fallen hero SSgt. Tyler Smith

Tyler Smith was born and bred in Licking. After high school, he joined the Army and severved two stints in Afghanistan. Last week, he stepped on a land mine and lost his life in the call of duty.

This weekend is the funeral of SSgt. Smith. May God bless him and his family.

I didn't know Tyler personally, since I'm new here in town, so I don't have a photo of him for my personal blog. But here are some pictures I took around town and of the motorcade thatdrove through on Friday, April 13, on its way to the funeral home in Summersville.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The motorcade passed through town again today, Saturday, April 14, to the Pentecostal Holiness Church for the funeral. He will be laid to rest in his family's private cemetery near Summersville.

 

God bless SSgt. Tyler Smith.

God bless America.

 

Tapestry for the whole family

 

I -- excuse me, we -- have decided to brush up a bit on a smaller loom before starting on the first large project in too many years, sort of like practicing scales. And a one and a two...

Clearly, it's become a family affair.

The smaller loom I'm using to bone up on is a tapestry loom by Mountain Loom Co. of Colorado. Unfortunately, Mountain Loom Co. doesn't make looms anymore. I was fortunate enough to order mine in the 90s, when they were still in operation, and had it shipped to Switzerland, where I was living at the time and learning to weave.

And in fact, this loom slipped through my fingers when I sold it to a friend several years later and immediately wished I hadn't. About two years after that, I happily bought it back from her. This time, I'm hanging on to it.

Here's a view from the back:

 

 

It's a great little loom, perfect for workshops because it folds up and fits in a big suitcase.

You may be wondering why the celestial heavens are rolled up on the warp beam. Yes, it looks a lot like Christmas. When I came to wind this warp on, I discovered I didn't have enough wooden slats the right length for this loom and no brown paper or corrugated cardboard, which I also like to use for winding on a warp. What I did have, however, was leftover wrapping paper.

It's really kind of nice to look up from weaving and see the cosmos hovering above.

 

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On a related note, I just bought The Tapestry Handbook by Carol K. Russell and I highly recommend it. I bought mine used from Amazon for about $15 in hardback. Worth every penny.

One interesting little tip I picked up from Carol is to use a loopy acrylic yarn between the initial rag-woven warp-spacing rows and the heading of the tapestry that gets woven before the design begins. This loopy yard does two things: it helps space the warp ends because of its loops, and it pulls in just enough to establish the final width of the tapestry, so all the pulling-in takes place before the heading is woven. Very neat.

Carol uses a nice black loopy yarn for this purpose. Of course, when I went looking for my loopy yarn at the only yarn store within a hundred miles of Licking, this is what they had:

 

The first rows of any weaving are always colorful, at least at my house.

What you're looking at here are actually the warp-sreading rag rows followed by the spacing loopy yarn and then the heading. The heading will get tucked under the tapestry like a hem and the rest will be removed and saved for later use after the tapestry is cut off the loom.

See how the heading is already very neatly a quarter-inch narrower than the rag strips? It's like this on both edges. This is exactly what you want. Now the selvedges can remain straight for the next five yards of sampling...if I do my job well.

 

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And speaking of jobs, I'm on a well-deserved four-day vacation from the newspaper. My wonderful colleague at our two-person enterprise was out on medical leave for a month, just returning full-time this week. I managed to do most of the work of both of us, with a little supplementary help from our larger parent paper in Salem, for five issues.

All I can say, folks, is don't try this at home. It's why I've been away from my blog for so long, and from just about everything else in my life as well.

In case you're interested, by the way, here's a link to our little newspaper: The Licking News. Small-town life.

These next four days, my nice loooong weekend, are meant to restore me to human-hood so I can go back to work on Monday and stop making the kind of silly mistakes I tend to make when I'm stressed out and overworked. And on a newspaper, all your silly mistakes end up in people's mailboxes every week.

My therapy? Guess.

The plan is to dress the big loom this weekend and continue with my practice on the small loom in preparation for what I'm calling my Lotus Tapestry.

Oh yes, and rest.

 

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Swiss weaver Silvia Heyden has been one of my favorite artists for many years. Today, I ordered a new film about her weaving life, A Weaverly Path by Kenny Dalsheimer. This link will bring you to a short video of Silvia and some of her amazing work.

 

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So this morning, I'm rejoicing in the sunny day, reveling in my time off and, of course, snuggling with my ever-present fuzzy companion, who likes weaving almost as much as I do and denies all responsibility for fugtive yarn balls.

 

Till later, from Moose Lodge...

 

Irresistible.

 

Spring in Missouri. What could be better than staying inside and setting up a loom?

 

First, you assemble the pieces.

 

 

You inspect them very carefully.

 

And then you leave while someone else does the work.

 

By evening, it's done.

 

 

Then the yarn comes out and what do you know...it's interesting again.

 

 

The colors of a tapestry...

 

Irresistible.

 

A day late, but...

 

...Happy Birthday, Lucy!

 

 

You're two years old (yes)terday

and I still love you, despite it all.

Mom

Lately, there's been a lot of this going on...

 

Of course, at our house it looks more like this:

 

And I'm not the only one.

 

 

Two nights ago, we were treated to this amazingly rare sight here in Licking: northern lights that reached into Arkansas and astounded those of us blessed enough to see them. I credit Alex Roberts for sensing them, spotting them and sharing them. His article will appear at this link later this week.

 

Photo by Alex Roberts, science geek extrordinaire, and a darned good photographer to boot.

 

After this display, you'd wonder what else could be happening. Well, I helped a friend dress this loom, which just came into her life and of which I am insanely jealous...

 

 

...while my own weaving lies dormant in the setting sun...

 

 

...because I'm busy doing this:

 

 

...and this:

 

 

Outside, of course, there's a lot of this going on...

 

 

...and this...

 

And while this little photo essay doesn't capture the peripheral activities (such as interviewing people, writing articles and fielding lawsuits, sharpening translation resumes, attending 4 a.m. webinars and boning up on German, revamping diets and relearning how to cook, cleaning out the clothes closet and trying everything on), it does account for the more important things in life.

 

Which means that at our house you will find us, frequently and unapologetically, doing this...

 

...which I may yet do some of today.

 

Whatever you decide to do today, have a wonderful time doing it.

Wishing you blessings, from us at Moose Lodge

 

 

The undone pieces.

 

 It's an introspective day at Moose Lodge...but then, when isn't it?

It's not surprising that I'm a little more reflective than usual these days. For one thing, my 60th birthday is three months from today. (By the way, I'm welcoming this event with open arms because I've learned you may as well grow older with a smile. Your face will thank you in the end.)

Nevertheless, at almost 60, I'm a woman in transition, floating in a kind of weightlessness between the emotional events of the past three years and the new life that's looming on the horizon. My job is about to change. With all the good this will bring, it also means I'll soon be much busier at the office than I am now. So, while I'm grateful my situation is improving when many others aren't, I give thanks for the peace and quiet that is my life today.

And in the quiet, I can't help reflecting as I string my beads and watch the years pass by.

After a year and a half in this new place---learning it, navigating it, absorbing it, and accepting its ways---I've finally reached the point where I can begin differentiating myself from it.

For me, this means bringing things I've loved from my past into my present. Some of them are small. I've resubscribed to The Brattleboro Reformer, for example. This is the newspaper I used to read every day when I lived in Vermont. It's quirky and interesting, and it keeps me in touch with something important. And I'm ordering my favorite coffee in the world, a unique Vermont blend I've dearly missed. I don't live in Vermont anymore, but why shouldn't I enjoy those things I loved when I was there? They have, after all, become part of who I am.

Some, though, are bigger things. I've completely lost my sense of fitness and style. I have no idea how to be or what to wear. This will sound ludicrous to anyone who hasn't experienced it, but for someone who loves to feel good in colorful clothes, dumming down your wardrobe is unnecessary and depressing. Who is this old woman looking out of the mirror at me? The me that was always my friend seems to have gotten lost along the way.

So here I am, at almost 60, reclaiming myself, and I'm not reclaiming anything I don't love.

I'm skimming the past for those shining moments when I felt my best and looking to see what it was that made them shine. Some things that shine from a distance aren't so lovely when inspected up close. Others are surprisingly endearing. And enduring.

 

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On the whimsical side, one of the things that has stayed with me since my time in New England is my love for the Red Sox. So please excuse me as I'm off to watch them try once again to squeak past the Yankees into the post season.

 

While I watch the double-header today, I'll be working on one of my unfinished necklaces, probably this one:

 

It's a bit of an experiement and the jury's still out. I call it The Not-Round Necklace. On the front are stone beads, and the clasp is a round copper snap that complements them very well. The wavy ends are not part of the design but rather what I'll be sewing in today. One of these days, I'm going to have to make something with ends waving around. There's a wildness I really like, if I can figure out how to keep them from just being annoying.

 

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In the meantime, from Moose Lodge on this gray, introspective day, Fuzzy Wild Thing says goodbye.

 

 

Introducing...The Necklace

Yay!

So, here it is: my first sale for Fresh Berries Beadwoven Art! It was delivered to the birthday girl and I'm free to share.

However, that's not where the story ends. It turns out that this particular design doesn't fit the birthday girl's wardrobe or lifestyle. The solution is that she will send it back to her mother, who will keep it because SHE loves it, and the birthday girl will get something more suitable.

Me? I'm delighted that the necklace is finding a home with someone who will love it and wear it.

There you go.

 

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Today, I covered the Licking Mill Festival for the newspaper. It's raining like nuts and the weather chased all the vendors inside, but this annual celebration of the historic mill here in the middle of town was musical and colorful nonetheless.

Here's the mill at last year's festival, when it wasn't raining:

 

 

And today, inside, The Sunny Side Up Band from Licking and West Plains with some GOOD bluegrass:

 

 

And a peek at the quilt show upstairs, a penny a vote:

 

 

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You might be excused for thinking this blog is about anything but writing a novel.

Well, last week, I hauled out my manuscript and fiddled with it. This morning I got started again for real. I cut and pasted, condensed and expanded, and rewrote Chapter One. I can't express how good this feels---which I actually should be able to do, being a writer and all.

I'm happy it's raining today. And I hope it rains tomorrow, too. Rain makes me write, so I figure the more it rains, the sooner I'll get an agent.

Since I can't show you a picture of my writing, here's a look at the setting. Lots of beach, lots of hills, lots of Sonoma County.

 

 

 

And please, if you're the photographer of one of these pictures, let me know so I can either add your name or take the image off my blog, whichever you wish. I use your photo as inspiration when I write, and I thank you.

 

*

So long for now from rained-upon Moose Lodge.

 

 

A preponderance of beads.

This is a little something I'm playing with. It makes me smile.

Here's the full view, as far as I've gotten:

 

 

The loom is Don Pierce's Larry the Loom. I like its size and adjustability, and the fact that working on a white background is nice. With my other looms, I always end up putting a black or white board behind the beads so I can see what I'm doing.

I'm having fun with this piece, but I think that when it's done it can only be worn with white clothes. The beads are semi-transparent. That gives the piece a kind of glow when you see it in person, but any color that's directly behind it affects the color of the beads.

So far, I'm calling it Heavenly Sky Necklace. If it stays a necklace, I'll fit it with a cosmic silver clasp, like a moon or stars. Or maybe I'll just hang it in the window when I'm done.

 

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Red Toe Shoes is coming along as well. About two more inches and she'll be done. She's hard to photograph because the beads are glossy and reflective. After all, she's meant to be dancing against the sky!

 

 
 

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Just so you know, I don't just bead. I also eat. I made myself a Pumpkin Cheesecake today, low-carb. Here's a picture of dinner.

 

 

 

And here's a goodbye from my furry assistant on this cozy, overcast day at Moose Lodge.

 

 

Getting a grip

Not my strong point.

I can't count the times I've drawn diagrams of my life, or what I could see of it, with arrows and bubbles and captions, trying to pull in the squiggly ends to make some kind of sense so I could move forward without wondering what I'd forgotten that was about to ambush me from a dark corner.

I keep trying to hold life in my hands. Oversee it all, not be surprised...at least, not to the extent of being knocked off my feet.

Once, at the fresh new start of a long-term relationship with a man I eventually married, I shared with him a peek at what he could expect. I brought him the current diagram of my life. My entire week as I envisioned it, with blocks of time highlighted in neon and his name penned in.

If he'd had any sense, he would have turned tail and run. Instead, he put up with my diagrams for years to come, until even I could see they were pointless.

Why do I do this? I think I've learned.

One day, in my early twenties, I declared to a friend over lunch that I made art I because I had to. He dismissed it as dramatic bosh and I felt pretty silly for having said it, but really, it was true, and I didn't need to feel silly about it at all.

Some people are driven to build, some to fly, some to heal. I'm driven to write, to draw, to paint, to weave, to make...whatever. My famous diagrams of life are a valiant battle to carve out the room and time to do it.

Years ago, I had an uncharacteristic job at a reinsurance company in Switzerland. One day, a co-worker told me I was lucky to have painting in my life.

"'Lucky, my ass,'" I said. "I work hard to keep painting in my life."

It wasn't by chance then, and it's not by chance now. Still, a death grip is not the best way to keep something alive.

Yesterday, I walked across the street from the newspaper office here in Licking to the museum to snap some pictures at one of their painting workshops. This one was being led by Lanie Frick, local painter, instructor, horsewoman and all-around nice person.

Lanie's workshops are happy places. People have fun there and learn at the same time. And it's wonderful to see the folks, some self-proclaimed artists or crafters and some not, who make the time to keep color alive in their lives.

We all prioritize the things we love. We give them attention and feed them, and then they grow. If we let them die, they do. That's what I've learned. Focusing on lack of time creates greater lack of time. Focusing on art creates more art.

That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.

 

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One last word: My necklace is on its way to the birthday girl. As soon as I know she's received it, I'll post a picture.

In the meantime, I'm playing around with Fresh Berries...

 

 

...but that's a story for another day.

 

And the biz never stops

 

Sometimes it's nice to have a pretty picture for no special reason at all.

 

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Been working like a maniac (a very calm and focused maniac), but in between beads, I'm peeking at sites about craft marketing. Two links I found that look interesting and helpful: Craft Business Blog and Craft Marketer.

Lots of information and inspiration in both. I'm especially intrigued by a blog entry entitled Tell Your Craft Business Story. Crafts and stories--my two favorite things!

I've just about finished the necklace I've been working on to fill my vey first order for FRESH BERRIES Beadwoven Art. Still waiting on the clasp, so tomorrow I'll go on with Red Toe Shoes, which is quickly becoming a sun catcher. Pictures to come.

 

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To all of you on the esat coast, my thoughts and prayers are with you this weekend. Having lived through the great tornado swarm of the spring, I feel what you're going through. Take care and may God bless.