Report from the Trenches: Week Four

My fourth week of work on my "Battle of the Beadsmith" piece is over; and I'm going to to do my best to give you a report without giving away any top-secret information. I can't release any photos, or give you any specifics of the design until the battle has actually begun and my photos are turned loose to joust in their first round. But, until then, here are a few thoughts and musings from the fourth week:

Beading was my refuge this past week; I needed to lose myself in the weaving, and I did. It's turning out to be a methodical, symmetrical piece; it's in exact opposition to the way my week went. I got a lot more done than I had any right to expect; the more things fell apart around me, the steadier my beadwork became. As it stands right now, it's probably the most even, symmetrical piece I've ever made.

It needs more work, of course; right now, there are too many light beads and not enough dark ones to balance the design. But I really wanted to work with light beads; I needed them this week. I ended up using them in a very repetitive design that will probably become the background for some beadweaving with darker beads; at least that's my best guess as to what will happen to it next week.

As of right now, I've reached a set-it-down-and-think-about-it point. I'm done with the light beads, I think; no guarantees, of course, but that's my feeling right now. Perhaps I will put them back in their tubes tonight and let the darker colors out. I'm feeling the need to wake up to a fresh bead board on Monday morning.

It's time to put this week behind me.

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Berries for nothing and your kicks for free

As you probably already know, we grow a lot of food in our backyard. I'm often told how lucky I am to have so much good fresh fruit and vegetables for free, and I have to agree with the first part of that statement. 

I'm very, very lucky to live in a town where we can afford to have such a large yard; lucky to live in a place where the sun shines almost non-stop and things grow so well; lucky to have fresh, organic fruit and vegetables on my table.

But it isn't free. Not even close! 

It's not a large monetary investment; even the trees weren't really that expensive. Seed packets are cheap, and whenever I can, I save seed and plant them the next year. Berries love to reproduce; our initial investment in twelve strawberry plants has multiplied exponentially. And the blackberries come up all over the place; I've gotten to the point where I have to pull up the volunteers and toss them on the compost heap. I just don't have any more room for more plants.

It's an investment in time; I spend hours picking and processing every day. And it takes a lot of energy, too; gardening is hot, and occasionally heavy, work. And sometimes, like today, it requires a big investment in adrenaline.

There have been a lot more rattlesnakes in these parts than usual; not in my neighborhood, thank goodness, but out in the hills that surround our town. My sister, who lives in the hills, has seen quite a few, and two of her dogs have been bit by rattlers. Luckily, both survived; but it's made her - and all of us - a lot more wary when we're out in the garden. 

Rattlesnakes don't always follow the rules; they don't always stay where they belong.

My sister has reluctantly decided not to pick most of her blackberries; she's only picking the ones on the outside, and she's wearing boots and chaps while she's doing it. I'm keeping my eyes open while I pick, but, since there haven't been any snakes sighted in our area, I'm picking without leathers. It's hot out there.

Well, today, I had a scare. Usually, when I hear a rustling in the berries, it's a small lizard. I like lizards, and I say hello to them as they scurry off. But today, just as I was reaching for a nice plump berry, I heard a strange whirring sound and felt something strike my hand. After tasting that jolt of adrenaline, I remembered that rattlesnakes rattle, they don't whir, and rattlesnake bites hurt. I wasn't hurt, there wasn't a mark on me, so it must have been something else. All that in the space of a second or two. And then I saw a very large grasshopper fly out of the berries. 

I've got a big bowl of blackberries for my breakfast tomorrow, but it wasn't free. Nope, not free at all.

Report from the Trenches: Week Three

My third week of work on my "Battle of the Beadsmith" piece is over; and I'm going to to do my best to give you a report without giving away any top-secret information. I can't release any photos, or give you any specifics of the design until the battle has actually begun and my photos are turned loose to joust in their first round. But, until then, here are a few of my thoughts and musings from the third week:

This next week will see the half-way point come and go; time flies. Of course, there is nothing quite as cliche as that particular statement, but the older I get, the faster it flies.

This week has left me thinking about time, and about the threads that join us. Early in the week, I finished the components that will make up this piece - the friends, if you will - and I began to weave them together into a tightly-knit circle. As I was doing that, the news came that one of my friends will be leaving the circle sooner than expected; his cancer has returned aggressively, and there is nothing more that can be done.

There is no way to hold him here physically, but the work he has done, and the friends he has made, will keep him alive in spirit for a good while longer. He has added so much beauty to the world; I am thankful that I had the chance to know him; and this week, I did what I could to reinforce the stitches of our friendship.

It's a precarious existence, a fragile balance. In beadweaving, as in life, threads break; they can unravel so quickly, and beads will suddenly begin to fall off. Sometimes, they are found again; sometimes they are not. Sometimes they are woven back more firmly and stay; sometimes the thread continues to break at the exact same point and the whole thing must be re-thought.

I've never worked this way before; I'm beading my life into this piece. 

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Report from the Trenches: Week Two

My second week of work on my "Battle of the Beadsmith" piece is over; and I'm going to to do my best to give you a report without giving away any top-secret information. I can't release any photos, or give you any specifics of the design until the battle has actually begun and my photos are turned loose to joust in their first round. But, until then, here are a few random thoughts and musings from the second week:

Okay, first off, I didn't get nearly as much done as I wanted to this week. I'd hoped to be done with all the components, and I'm not. I'm close, but not quite there. I have one more large one and at least two more small ones to make; maybe more, by the time the design is finalized; but for now, that's the count.

To keep things light, Steven Weiss, of the Beadsmith, has been busy making digital badges for the contestants; here's one that he made for me. I love the bright colors! One of these days, I have to use this color palette for a piece of beadwork; it just screams summer to me.

Back to the Battle: by the end of this week, I'd like to have all the components made, and a good start on putting them together. That's going to be the tricky bit; I've got several ideas on how to do that, but nothing firm yet. I suspect figuring that out will take up a few more rungs on the design disaster ladder. So maybe I ought to revise that goal: By next week, I'd like to have finished the components and figured out how I'm going to join them together. The amount of said joining doesn't have to be a lot - it just has to be known.

See you next week with a report on how I've done!

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Wandering

I've always loved the concept of taking a walkabout; just pick up, head out, and find myself along the way. No itinerary, no plans, no rules. One foot in front of the other for as long as it takes; let the journey tell me what I need to know.

I like to wander.

Yesterday, we wandered up the coast; we took roads at random and saw what was on them. When we came to this pier, we got out of the car and walked it. I think it's the longest pier I've ever seen; I can't remember seeing a longer one. This picture was taken part-way down; I didn't think to take a photo at the beginning and I didn't like the photo I took on the way back. So, here we are, somewhere in the middle.

That's sort of a metaphor for life, anyway; none of us remember the beginning, we start remembering things somewhere along the way, and that's what is real to us. Just like this picture, we can't quite see the end, and we can't remember the beginning.

I took this photo near the end of the pier; not at the very end, however, because, just like the beginning, I forgot.

There were some people fishing at the end of the pier; they were catching kelp. Not on purpose, of course, but that's all that was biting.

Some days are like that. You cast for fish, but you hook kelp.

This day was clear, the sun was shining, and there was a stiff breeze that kept us cool as we walked. This spot was a great find; someday we will come back with our beach mats and bathing suits.

Or not.