Taste of the Arts

Saturday I spent the day helping the Art Council with their yearly "Taste of the Arts" workshops. This is my third year being a part of this creative day.

We always have a good time but it's a lot of work for our fearless leader Christie.  She is the "teacher" and Mary Jane (who is a gourd artist and who I pick blackberries with in the summer) and I are her humble assistants.This year we taught three classes with 15 adults and high school students in each class.

We started with a lot of clean dry gourds.

The students pick one that they like. Christie introduces us and  talks about where gourds come from, how they grow and what we will do with them.
Then the fun begins...

They take a look at the finished gourds we bring (our own) to show what can be done with practice and many different kinds of techniques.

We show them the paint, glue, scissors, beads, feathers, glue guns, and all the embellishments that they will have available to decorate the gourd.
Then we let them be as creative as they want to be. It's so fun to see what they do. I'm convinced that everyone has a creative streak in them.
Some begin cautiously, start slowly and then get into it.

And some jump right into it.

Eventually we find that each person creates their own unique piece of art.
We guide, answer questions, help with the glue guns or hold a gourd steady while they glue something in place. It's so interesting to see how amazingly creative all of these folks can be.

These are some of the finished gourds.

 The beautiful gift from the sea.

 The charming beaded bird house.

This gourd basket, bought at a thrift store, was brought to the class to be "repurposed" and decorated for this lady's collection of crystals and stones.

One person wanted to make a gourd instrument or facsimile with a long gourd, shells and string. It was beautiful when she finished.

We set out some rabbit skins... which were more popular than we had imagined. By the final class, the supply was almost depleted and it looked like a bear attack on the sink..

This man, who came with his whole family, created a wonderful creature using the fur for its hair and a white mustache as well. He and his son had a great time working together on these gourd heads. The fur was flying.

This gourd was my personal favorite. I love a more natural look using nature's embellishments.  It also happen to be a gourd that I had in my living room for a long time. I had a personal attachment to it. The artist did it proud. I was so happy to see what the gourd finally decided to "become." In all the time that it sat in my house, it never told me what it wanted to be but, obviously, it told this lady everything.

There is an old adage in gourd art. It says that the gourd will tell you what it wants to be. This one waited, found the right person and look what happen.

 I'm a little sad that it didn't do this for me, but this woman was so happy with what she created that I felt it was meant to be for her... and the fulfilled gourd.
I think I better start listening more closely to some of the gourds that I have laying around the house.


We thought that all of the gourds were creative and wonderful, but this was our Best of Show...

It went, in our opinion, to a 16 year old with a flair for the Gothic, lord of the darkside ... "with a twist".  He said that the birds were for balance within the split personality. After he was finished, he decided this small gourd "being" needed a hat so he created "Le chapeau" out of two shells. He had a vision and wasn't afraid to express it.
When do we loose this ability to express ourselves so uniquely? When do we lose the ability to be unchecked and free with ideas and creativity? Society and our upbringing tend to put constraints on liberal, (I'm talking about being creative in thought here, not politics.) and original inventiveness. What an injustice we do to creative youngsters. Maybe children (and the resulting adult) would be happier if they were allowed more freedom of observation and creative expression and less of being given established, "safe" choices. Enough Farmlady?
 This young man was so happy about his "creation". Others might not understand his concept, but he did. It was his expression of his ideas.
Someone gave this boy a gift from the start. A gift of being creativity without   "a reason" or "a purpose"... or an in depth explanation of its value. I admire that kind of parenting in some ways. It's a fine line between giving a child some freedom of thought and expression and still maintaining some boundaries.
His gourd art is different... creative... inventive and his own.The ears are buttons. The fur is dyed  rabbit. We thought that this was the most creative gourd art for the day. This young man was really pleased with his work.

I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.

Frida Kahlo (1907-1954)

We had a very creative time.

Strange Behavior in the Hen House.

You do remember how excited I was about the very small amount of snow we got here. That night Butte Mt. was looking like a picture perfect study in loveliness. Like Mother Nature dusted her with powered sugar.

And across the canyon, the hills were covered with a beautiful sifting of snow as the fog set into the river valley.

The night was so cold and we woke up the next morning to a frosted world of beauty that I recorded in my Wordless Wednesday post.
Annie, our cat who sleeps in the garage, has a new bed and seems to be quite happy on these cold nights. She complained a bit the next morning but I set "her" lawn chair out in the sun and she was a happy camper for the rest of the day.
But, the hens were a different story. I guess I should pay more attention to them when it's this cold. Maybe I should keep a light on in the hen house. I don't remember this being a problem during other exceptionally cold winter nights.
When I went to get the eggs, I found six of them. Usually they are in the big laying box and sometimes one or two are in the little row of boxes we built above the roost. But all the eggs (I'm not complaining mind you, just surprised.)that I found the morning after the snow were in odd places. One was in the middle of the floor in the hen house, two more were in a corner under the laying box and another one was... well... kind of strange looking.

As if one of the hens was so cold that she had to squeeze it out of her little frozen rear end and it formed a goose bump as it hit the cold air.
And look at the colors...

Another was not the normal brown or blue/green, but a muddy grayish color.
I'm no chicken expert and I know nothing about raising chickens in cold winter areas, but I do think that my hens reacted to the cold and it affected their eggs.
The production is fine.

Five or six a day is more than enough to eat and give to neighbors. I just wonder if the cold was almost too much for them. We always lock them in at night. We have had cold weather before but I never saw the eggs so scattered or with goosebumps.
Does anyone, who has chickens, know what might have happen? Can a hen get so cold that she doesn't want to find her favorite "spot" to lay her eggs? So she just drops one anywhere?... with a goose bump on the end of it?
They all seem fine today. It warmed up.
The Little Red Hen attacked me, as usual. She is going to be "dinner" if she doesn't stop this,
 "I want bread (cracked corn, scraps, etc...) and I want it NOW." attitude.
She's the first hen I have ever had that jumps up and demands whatever it is that you have in your hands.
AND... she's picking on Squeekie.
Fair warning Little Red Hen.

Wordless Wednesday: The Frozen Breath of Rain

Choices

There is a vast difference between solitude and being alone. 

Being alone can be a fearful place where shadows become stick figured monsters that grab at me from beneath my feet.  Where my life drags the past blindly up the hill behind me and shouts obscenities about the future.

But there is this other place where I can choose to spend time with myself? 

Where I can take a deep breath and not care what other's think or do.

Where I feel the quiet of solitude

the connection of place...

 Where I can walk in my own footsteps 

and see the light between the shadows.

It seems an easy choice, but sometimes it's not.

joint tenancy

"Love consists in this...
 that two solitudes
 protect and touch and greet each other."

~Rainer Maria Rilke~

Wordless Wednesday: A Study of Orchids and Light

Sentience

" Just as you have the instinctive natural desire to be happy and overcome suffering, so do all sentient beings; just as you have the right to fulfill this innate aspiration, so do all sentient beings. So on what exact grounds do you discriminate?"

~Dalai Lama~ 

(Head of the Dge-lugs-pa order of Tibetan Buddhists, 1989 Nobel Peace Prize.)

So, are dogs or other animals sentient beings?
Here is a definition....
Sentience is the ability to feel, perceive, or be conscious, or to have subjective experiences.  Philosophers used the concept to distinguish the ability to think ("reason") from the ability to feel ("sentience"). In  western philosophy, sentience is the ability to have sensations or experiences. For Eastern philosophy, sentience is a metaphysical quality of all things that requires respect and care. The concept is central to the philosophy of animal rights.
What do you think? Is this an animal who has no purpose, cannot think or feel, have experiences?

I think not.

(Thank you Shorty, Max and Cutter for allowing me to capture your buddha nature with my camera.)

Cows in the Hood

Our neighbors heifers are starting spring early.

They are having BABIES.
Today it's trying to rain. I hope it does. We have had a very dry January with lots of sunshine.
I took these photos a few days ago when the sun was out and it was a nice, warm afternoon.
These cows were loving all the winter sunshine.

They look like the proverbial "Happy California Cows" don't they?... with a touch of  "Don't get too close to my baby."
The littlest calf, born a few days ago, was lying on the warm dirt looking sooo cute.

I just wanted to hop over the fence and walk out there... you know... pet the little sweetheart and play with him a little, but then I realized that someone was watching me.

I don't think this was the little calf's mom but with that look on her face, I wasn't going to discuss it with her.
Maybe she was just having a bad day. We moms can remember days like this.. Maybe the "teenager" next to her was giving her some "lip". Who knows.
I thought it best
                  to move on
                               down the
                                           road.

Joni Mitchell in my head

I've had a song going though my head all morning. I haven't had a song come to me like this for a long time.
I can hear every word, every tone, the key and that voice.
 Do you remember? Joni Mitchell sang it. Do you remember the music? The lyrics?

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

Oh but now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From WIN and LOSE and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all.

(This is only the last half of the song.)

I haven't heard it for years.  I don't know where this came from or why it's in my head today. But, here it is.

How I remember Joni M.

Growing older with grace and music...

And the beauty of being an older woman.

Not sure why this song has come inside of me today... but it's here and it feels good.

Carl, on Farmlady's absence

She was gone again...

Farmlady said she was leaving for a few days. She told us that she was going to see her friend in the Delta, and the little dog Max.

I'm always sad when she leaves but we make due, Cutter and I, because the other human in our life (the Prospector) always makes up for being the only caretaker.
Like he lets both of us get in his lap at the same time.

And he gives us extra treats and lets us run outside more. Sometimes he sits on the couch with us, like Farmlady does and rubs our tummies at the same time.

Cutter gets kind of spooked about it all.

and doesn't understand where she is. I, of course, being older and smarter, understand that she will be back.

***********

See?... what did I tell you. She came home last night and everything is back to normal. We had our Latte on the couch this morning and watched the news together.
I'm glad she's home. Her clothes smell like that dog Max, but it's OK. That will wear off.

Farmlady was so happy to see all of us and she told the Prospector that she helped her friend, "C", unpack more boxes and clean more spaces to put things. She said that they ate at a place called Pineapple. I, personally don't like pineapple. I'm more a steak and chicken dog. But, she said it was the best Chinese restaurant in the Delta.
They also played with THAT dog ...a lot... maybe a little too much, in my opinion. But, he is a single dog, and very small, so he probably needs more attention.
He was fun when he came up here one time. He plays well and knows his manners. Maybe he will visit us again.

Cutter is watching Farmlady's every move.

 He's still worried that she will leave. But I know, because I understand these things, that she will be home now... for a while.