Iron Irises

A couple of years ago, my sister gave me a box containing a couple of dozen iris corms from her garden. We were still working on our garden and I didn't know where I really wanted them to go, so I planted them in a corner that wasn't yet occupied and forgot about them.

They thrived, and outgrew their corner.

I was advised to divide them; just dig up the clumps, cut off the "daughter plants" from the "mother plants" (what a thing to tell a mom who is this close to having an empty nest) and plant the daughters in their new location.

Sadly, the mother plants were to be thrown away; my iris mentor said I should toss them in the compost heap and congratulate them on job well done. I wasn't totally comfortable with that idea, but I promised to follow her instructions and be a good iris grower.

Little did I know how promiscuous those iris mothers had been. Or how ruthlessly I would deal with them after carefully digging up and dividing the first few clumps.

Each and every one of those original irises had managed to produce a bumper crop of daughters; 15-25 each would be my conservative estimate. After carefully separating and trimming the first 25 daughters from their mothers, I realized (with a certain amount of horror) that I was now looking at a pile about the size of that original box of iris corms. If I were to continue dividing and planting, I would have enough irises to plant our entire yard, which is already pretty well planted, thank you very much. I had prepared two small sections of the hill for these irises; sure, there's more hill that I could prepare, but I was beginning to see myself in a bizarre version of The Sorcerer's Apprentice if I didn't do something drastic.

And then I thought of the ditch.

We have a good-sized ditch running across the back of our yard; last spring, I cleared the weeds from it, but we hadn't planted anything there, because there really isn't any way to irrigate it, and California gardens thrive on irrigation.

My iris mentor had told me that there was a chance that irises could survive without irrigation in my yard; this year, we will find out. I stopped dividing and begun digging up great clumps, which I wheel-barrowed over to the ditch and planted, more or less. Let's just draw a curtain over that scene and say that they were not coddled.

So, I say, "Let the Iron Iris Contest Begin!"

If these don't survive, I have no doubt that there will be many new contenders in a couple of years.

Report from the Trenches: Week Six

My sixth 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 sixth week:

I've finished my piece. It's been photographed and emailed; now I'm just hunkering down, waiting for the big reveal and the jousting to begin.

I was surprised when I realized it was done; until the very last minute, I didn't know how it would turn out. I ran with my gut on this one; I did what felt right. I'm happy with it; it was an emotional piece for me and it brought up a lot of strong feelings. When I started it, I wanted it to be a healing piece, and it was.  The stones I used were purchased in a time of loss, with the hope of healing. They sat in a drawer for a long time; I know now that I wasn't quite ready to heal.

There was more loss while I worked on this piece, and with it, came healing. I let go of some things that had been keeping me from healing; I found peace in spite of sadness. This piece embodies my strength, my stubbornness, my joy, my sorrow. It has all of my fight in it. No matter what happens in the battle to come, it's the best I have to offer.

It's not what I expected to bead. It's not a showpiece; it's my heart. I didn't know I could do that.

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Beading Babes: Nefertiti Goes Bollywood

I've joined a really fun group of beaders called The Beading Babes, and here is the result of my first project with them. It's a variation of a pattern that was published in the June issue of Bead & Button by the fabulously talented Helena Tang-Lim. Her original necklace is titled Echoes of Nefertiti; I'm calling my set Nefertiti Goes Bollywood.

Lucky for me, the Beading Babes and Helena Tang-Lim have been very understanding of my near inability to follow directions. You'd think a pattern designer would have more respect for other people's designs, wouldn't you? You'd think I'd appreciate the hours and hours that someone put into designing a piece and writing up the directions; you'd think I'd follow those painstakingly drawn diagrams right down to the last bead.

But you'd be wrong.

When I see a design that I love, it always sends my thoughts off in a dozen different directions. I immediately start with the "what-ifs;" I want to turn necklaces into bracelets and earrings, and earrings into chokers. I want to take bits of the design and rearrange them; add new bits, and swap out beads. A good design fires up my creative juices and inspires me to play with it; the best designs take me places I never would have gone on my own.

It's like taking a vacation for me. With other people's patterns, I get the chance to go to new places and see new things and get all excited about my own craft again; and, just like when I'm on vacation, I can't resist slipping away from the group and wandering down that enticing little alley. I love to get lost in new places; this time, with Nefertiti as my guide, I found an alley in Egypt that took me to India.

Thank you, Beading Babes and Helena Tang-Lim!

Thank my lucky stars

This morning, while I was picking berries, I had a little chat with a young man who was very upset about an unfair situation. As described, the situation was unfair; but I have to admit, I wasn't very sympathetic. I told him that he would be happier if he stopped worrying about things being fair, and just got on with it. He wasn't very happy with my advice, and left rather quickly.

Then, as I always do, I turned my own advice on myself. I've been stewing over an unfair situation myself, lately. I won't go into details, but suffice to say that there is something I want that I can't have right now; and, to make it worse, the people who have it don't appreciate it. That has made me unhappy; I would take care of it much better than they do, and it seems unfair that they have it and I don't.

Of course, there's more to the story than that, but you get the idea.

As I picked, I had a good long time to ponder fairness. Of course, there are two sides to it; sometimes when things are not fair, we lose out - but, other times, we get things unfairly, and someone else loses out. Yet, when we're on the winning side, we don't ever call out, "Unfair!" Nope, we just accept the goodies that come our way and feel lucky. And if they keep coming, sometimes we forget to feel lucky and start feeling entitled.

And then, we feel that it is unfair if we lose the things that we got unfairly in the first place.

So today I'm thanking my lucky stars for the good things that have come my way, and I'm letting the bad things go. None of it is fair, but I've resolved not to just look at the unfair things that hurt me; there are plenty of good things in my life that I don't deserve.

I think I'll do better if I focus on those.

Report from the Trenches: Week Five

My fifth 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 fifth week:

Five weeks work done already? How can that be? Only three more weeks to go? It doesn't seem possible. I'm making good time; I still have to finish embellishing it, make a final decision on the clasp and bead it; but, other than marveling at how quickly the time has passed, I'm feeling pretty good about my progress.

I met my goal from last week; I've added more color, and more darker beads. It's not as light as it was a week ago, but it still has a lightness about it. It's very densely woven; not entirely solid, but definitely not airy. It's the sort of piece that settles onto me. 

I have had so many second thoughts and panics about it; it's not a typical "contest" piece, and that's a bit scary for me. For all it's weight, it's not what I would call a big piece, and there's no bling. Not a crystal or rivoli or chaton; the closest thing to bling are accents of gold. There had to be gold beads in it; this has been my year of using gold, and I couldn't leave gold out of this one.

It's earthy. And, even though it doesn't use traditional beading, I was heavily influenced by Sioux beading - and, of course, by everything that is Sedona. This piece is a tribute to my circle of friends; to the peace and joy that you bring to my life every day, in person, and over the Internet. It's one of the most grounded pieces I've ever made; it has a calm presence, which is something I need in my life right now.

Beading is a touchstone for me; I can use it to create whatever I need. Right now I need to plant my feet firmly on the earth and know that despite everything, I am still standing strong. Another time I will fly; another time, I will soar. This piece belongs to the earth, and so do I.

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