Midnight


I took my cat, Midnight, to the vet today because he was losing his hair. The visit didn’t turn out so good, and I don’t think we’ll be welcome back anytime soon.  It seems that once I got Midnight out of the cat carrier in the examination room, he panicked and basically destroyed most everything in the room.  The vet had some really nice artwork on the walls, thoughtfully framed and hung.  It took about 10 seconds for Midnight to remove them all.  I have never seen a cat do some of the things he did. Such agility!  It was amazing how fast and furious things came crashing down as he bounced from wall to wall.  At some point, I went from shock to trying to figure out how to contain him.  I quickly grabbed the cat carrier, flung it open, and whispered to him, making eye contact.  He shot in there like a bullet from off of one of the walls and as I staggered backward, I was able to slam the door behind him. I apologized at least 3 times before leaving the office, but I don’t think the vet was very happy about me, my cat, and all the damage.  As we were going out the door, he raised his voice and said, “the cat has fleas.”  When we arrived back home, I let Midnight out of the carrier and he immediately skulked under the house.  But it didn’t last for long.  I brought out a nice stinky can of cat food and that did the trick. He forgave me.  

The Fern Stitch

I just finished making the above basket. It usually takes me about a week to make one, but I only work on it when I'm watching TV.  Well, I'm not actually watching the TV, since my attention is on the basket, but it's good for background noise.  It's similar to playing guitar while watching TV with the sound off. 

The fern stitch alluded me for many months.  Try as I might, I couldn't join smoothly from one row to another and reading instructions from a book didn't help. I longed for a wise woman basket maker to show me where I was going wrong.  I even emailed Bessie Johnson, who is a renowned basket artist here in Mississippi, but she never replied.  Finally, after stumbling around for way too much time, the light came on.  I think I'll email her again and tell her never mind, don't bother, I figured it out by myself. Yes!

                                                               Before:  Front View

                                                                   Before:  Side View

                                                     After:  Work Still in Progress

Before and After

When I moved to Raymond, in 2007, Bill promised me that we would fix up the house. He had owned it for about 10 years, and was quite happy living in the dining room and kitchen. The rest of the rooms were mostly used for storage  In the past five years, we have managed to bring this old house back to life again and make her into a comfortable, old, southern farm house, and I just love it. 

One area that Bill was not even remotely interested in though, was the yard. He said he liked having the bushes grow up. It made his house more private. From the street, however, it looked like Sleeping Beauty’s slummer home. The briars had grown almost completely around the house, and one of the big oak’s branches was almost to the front door. The Azalea, by the back door, was intent on keeping the screen door closed, and you had to squeeze through to get into the house. One hundred year-old Azaleas are tough customers. I cut it down to the ground  two years ago, and now it’s challenging us for the back door once again.

So with shovels, rakes, saws, and clippers, I set out to tame the wilderness, and sent Sleeping Beauty packing. I’ve learned a lot about landscaping in the past few years – good ideas, and stupid ones as well.  But I am determined to be a good southern gardener, and maybe in a few more years, I’ll have it the way I think it should be. In the meantime, check out my progress. I even found the rest of the front walkway six months ago!

                                                St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Raymond

                                                               The English Garden

                                                       A Place to Meditate in the Garden

I pass this church each morning when I walk, and it has always been very easy on the eyes.  The above photos were taken in the early morning hours when the sprinklers were on.  One day, my walking partner and I got to see the inside, which was just a beautiful, except where you can see the blood stains on the floor from when it was used as a hospital during the Civil War. It's located across the street from the courthouse,  and very much a part of Raymond history. 

                                                                            NUTS

One afternoon, I came home from the thrift store with some Korean theater masks, and found my husband eating mixed nuts.  There was such a variety of textures in the bowl he was using, that I had to put them together to form the above design.               

 

                                                                   We Are Watching

Black Walnuts have always had such pathos about them when they are cracked open.  They remind me of monks or hollow-eyed spirits looking in on life.  And of course, the moon always adds her magic

Fountains in the South

About once a month, I have to clean out the two fountains I have.  One is located on the front porch, and the other is hanging on the back wall of the house.  I keep these as a source of water for most of the animals that live around the neighborhood.  Most mornings, when I go out on the front porch, there are dog tracks, and sometimes raccoon tracks leading to the fountain.  If there’s mud, it’s definitely the coons. One morning I came out to find that someone had actually thrown up in the fountain.  There were two teenagers living here when that happened, but of course, they knew nothing about it. 

The other fountain, in the back, has different customers.  There are lots of anoles that hang out nearby, and it seems to be the preferred drinking source for all the squirrels.  In the underworld of the fountain, those hollow places that are hidden to plain sight, live the tree frogs, specifically, Cope’s Gray Tree Frogs.  In the wintertime, the algae isn’t so bad, and I can usually clean the fountain carefully, allowing the frogs to stay hidden.  However, in the summer, the algae grows at a phenomenal rate, and I am forced to use a small amount of bleach to clear the lines and reclaim its appearance.  Each time I bail out the fountain and remove it from the wall, I search in all those hidden places to remove the frogs, so they won’t be hurt. I even donk it on the ground to jar out whatever is hidden. However, those little bastards always somehow escape my efforts. Never mind that they are cold and clammy to the touch, and I hate sticking my hands in places I can’t see... They just won’t cooperate.  This morning, once again, I discovered a frog in my bleach water.  I took him out quickly and washed him off with the hose, hoping this wasn’t his last bleaching.  It always dismays me since there are so few of them left in the world.  I certainly don’t want to contribute to their demise.  But what is a southern gardener to do? So after the cleaning, I go around and chase after the former occupants and put them back in the fountain till next time.