Raku Pit Fire Pt. 1

These pots are beautiful already, right? (Pheonix is here offering more of his all encompassing supervision). So what business do we have throwing them in a pit and burying them with all kinds of junk and then lighting the whole shebang on fire?

Well, I didn't know what raku was, k? I mean, I knew you "fired" ceramics, but in an oven, right? With heat, sure, but real flames? Really? Cooool. (I have a wee touch of the pyromania. Omg don't tell my dad. LOL jk) So apparently you dig a big ol' pit. And then you throw (see, another word that just doesn't seem right) some awesome pots. Then you put some kinda "sidge" or something on them to shine 'em up. I'm just the documentarian here, I didn't do research, peeps. Then you line the big ol' pit with paper. Don't ask me why, I'm reporting what happened, not why. Heh. So nice to let myself off the hook like that.

Then you pour a buncha sawdust over the paper, like 6 garbage bags full, I know, 'cause I hauled 'em. And it's gotta be from hardwood, k, not pine shavings or hamster cage lining.

Then, when you have a nice, deep, soft bed for the pots, you lay them in. Mom and Potterman demonstrate. Did I mention that I'm just the chronicler? Maybe not in those words.

There they lay, like goods entombed for the after life. You know, like the Egyptians did an stuff? And then Blogger doesn't let you put more than 5 photos on a post so you have to stop. I took over 200 photos of this process- don't worry, I only picked out the best for this tale. But there's still a lot more than 5. So I will continue on a "new" post.

Ok WHEW

It's all been cleared up- except for the part where I have to learn html code so my pics still can't be copied.... Aarrrrrrrgh for someone who spends so much time on the computer you would think I'd understand them better... when in reality I kinda hate computers. At least, when they don't do what I want. LOL. Anyway, I guess I will go ahead and continue posting- I don't exactly get enough random traffic to worry about it, I guess. Like not locking your door in a small town... the risk is still there, but it's a lot smaller.
Anyway, it's still a happy ending. Yay.

DISTURBING NEWS

Having just gotten back into the habit of blogging (and with three finished posts ready to go, dangit) I must put my blog on standby until I can protect my work better than having a copyright statement in the margin. A picture was copied without my permission and put on a website with someone else's name. I've already emailed the site but have yet to get a response. I hope it is resolved soon, but at this point I am almost ready to delete my entire blog rather than have my photos stolen. Wish me luck.

live video game action

Does this look like a sky that's about to spew forth lightning to you? Well, it didn't to me. In California not only did it never thunder and lightning- well, ok, maybe once every 5 years- it DEFINITELY didn't rain in the SUMMER. The SUMMER, fer cryin out loud. Summer has always meant dry yellow hills and heat with no humidity, to me anyway. NEVER would I don a sweatshirt, as I have occasionally this summer. So, the occasional sprinkle and storm has taken some getting used to. And I thought it was done for the day, and I really needed my hike. I've been trying to exercise (man I HATE spelling that word) everyday, you know, only because the camera is making me LOOK fat.

Slight digression, a shout out to my Dad: I fixed my bike up, patched tires and greased moving parts and dusted out and de-cobwebbed my helmet, and have been riding the hills and neighborhood. Sometimes even- GASP- at 7 in the durn morning! That's when I really think about my Dad- and my 4 miles to his 90. Not exaggerating here, either, y'all know he's a bike ninja.

ANYHOO, this hike was pre fixed bike, and, as usual, I took Nikita. In case of bear or mountain lion attack, I plan to throw her to them and run like crazy. KIDDING!!! About a mile out it started to sprinkle, so I put my camera in it's bag. Then, of course, wouldn't you know it, a fricken HERD of deer runs across the path RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I whupped out my cam but, as you can see, was too late. If you look REEEEEEEAL close you can see two of them.

Ah well. Onward I continued. What's a little rain when it's 70 degrees out AND you're working up a sweat. Niki doesn't like the rain at all, though, so she was alternately crowding against me, nearly tripping me, and tugging the leash towards home. Then it REALLY started dumping, and ka-boom BLAM thundering. As the path headed towards a stand of trees I had my first thoughts of turning back. Because under trees is the last place you want to be in a thunderstorm, right? At least I think that's it. Hey, like I said, I don't have a lot of experience with lightning.

I also don't know if the whole "counting seconds between bolts and thunder= miles" thing is true, but if it is, then I figured it was a good 5 miles away. I might have pressed on, but poor Niki was so miserable and we were both getting soaked, so I called off the excursion. As I headed back down the trail, I noticed the seconds between flash and bang were getting less and less, not to mention there were trees AHEAD as well as behind, so I took a visual on home (great views up here) and made a bee line. I was about a mile out still, and I realized that as the crow flies- in fact, ANY way I chose, there were trees. I had avoided the taller live ones and was now cutting through a dead forest left standing after the fires several years ago.

I started jogging. Nikita liked this plan. I dodged fallen logs, whipped through weeds, soaking my legs, tried to keep as much distance as possible between me and trees- which sometimes was less than 20 feet. Maybe even less than 10. Not only was my adrenaline RAGING, I was laughing out loud. I couldn't help it, it was exhilarating and exciting and I felt wholy alive. I paused to catch my breath and check my bearings, yup there was home on the next hill and lightning streaked right over it. I didn't even have time to think WOW when the thunder cracked less than a second later, booming in my chest, hurting my ears.

I may have yelled an expletive. I know I jumped, it felt like 3 feet, straight in the air. The lightning had been a horizontal streak, not a vertical one or I might have been fried. I RAN the entire rest of the way home, laughing and terrified. I made it, soaking. I stripped down and got some warm clothes on, put Niki in her house, and got a hot meal started. Then Mom and Potterman drove up. Apparently they had been out four-bying, scouring the hills for me, honking and yelling, an arsenal of towels and a bathrobe tucked in the car.

Boy am I loved. And boy were they relieved! Apparently I am not allowed to go off hiking without a cell phone EVER AGAIN. At least it all worked out in the end.


Even the sunset.

I did NOT enhance the color in these photos.

Aren't happy endings the best???

garden power

September '07


April '08


July '08
For breakfast this morning we had our first zucchini from the garden, fried up with onions from the garden, and eggs and cheese, mmm mmm all bundled into fried tortillas. ( Gotta get me some chickens so we can have eggs from home 2.) As we were eating Mom said, "AHEM, you should BLOG about our first zucchini". So this one's for you, Mom. Yeah, it's been awhile- I went to get some garden photo's and when I hooked my camera up to my computer there were 371 pics to load!! As I sorted through them I thought of all the stories I haven't been sharing, but boy have I been busy! The art faire especially was time consuming, mostly all the work leading up to it. I spent 10 hours one day matting photos, and it was more exhausting then a two hour hike! But I digress- this here post is about our fantastic super garden!

It's a gray day, sprinkles here and there and a perfect 70 degrees. We have a bunch of spinach and peas we'll be picking later, for dinner- fresh as can be! I think the best thing about our garden isn't even the fact that it's actually producing- well, maybe it's a tie. I just love how eclectic it is. There's nasturtiums in the tomatoes and onions, morning glories in the peas, and four o' clocks and cosmos in with the carrots, beets, and brussel sprouts (eeeeeeeeeeew, Mom's on her own with eating those).



Even the potatoes are flowering!!! They have gotten easily 3 feet high and we're starting to bury them so they will put out more roots (and taters). The corn is also hitting 3 feet, with huge deep green leaves. There's even a tiny jalapeno pepper ready to go!! Oh my goodness, and the cilantro!!! Tastes so fabulous, and the basil is getting going too. Amazing how delicious homegrown fresh picked food is. We're hoping to can some salsa when we get more tomatoes. Oh, that's Sebastian's grave in that ring by the brussels- don't worry, we only planted flowers on her.

All in all I'm durn proud of the garden, and you know what's even cooler? Yeah, there's some weeds- but the bugs seem to like those best! So we leave a few around as decoys and the rest we lay down as mulch. Can't wait to see it all in another month- I hope the fridge n' cupboards will be a gettin' stocked!

And no... my language does NOT indicate a slow slide into hick-dom, and neither does my sunburned red neck or the fact that I used a piece of wild grass for a tooth pick yesterday, ya hear? Just makin' sure y'all are clear as a jar o' moonshine on that.

Diamondback Rattler

The sun rises at 4:30 am here. And at least half the time, so do I. Seriously. It's beautiful out then, cool but not cold, rosy, still. I usually go out and walk around for a bit, then hit the computer or some netflix to try and get myself sleepy again. Which usually takes until about 7 or so, then I go back to sleep 'till 10 or 11.

The other morning, my second of the day, I was stumbling out of bed when Mom knocked on my door.
"Potterman says there's a HUGE diamondback rattler sunning on the road!" she said, excited. "Wanna go take a picture??"
"Heck yeah!!" I said, rubbing my eyes and patting at my sleep tousled cow lick. I grabbed some flip flops, a hairbrush, and my camera and off we zoomed.

On the way Mom saw a guy she knew, driving the other direction. We stopped, and so did he- apparently blocking the whole road is "allowed" out here in small towns. It's not like anyone came while we chatted. Anyway, she told him what we were looking for and he said, "Oh yeah, I just saw 'im! Follow me!" And so we did.
And there it was. Four and a half feet long, beautiful... and then, as I stalked it, I thought, you know, maybe flip flops weren't the best shoe for this. But there was no stopping the crazed wildlife paparazzi, oh no. I crept closer and closer, snapping away. I don't think it appreciated the attention, because it started to slither away.
"Do you dare me to pick it up?" Mom kept asking.
"I dare you NOT to," I said.
"I used to be able to do this all the time," she said, "and you used to pick up lizards and stuff when you were a kid."
"Yeah, until the alligator lizard that bit my finger AND WOULDN"T LET GO." I had to lay my finger with the lizard clamped on on the ground and beg it to let go and run away. Last lizard I ever bothered.
So Mom tried to pick up the snake, but it freaked out and jerked from 52 inch line to 10 inch squiggle, so she just petted it. Have I mentioned that it was just a really big gopher snake? Sorry, hope I didn't start any panic attacks out there. I got my photo fix, the snake found a nice safe drain so as not to get run over (or hassled by nature freaks), and Mom got to be the brave one who touched it. Cool. And I got to SOUND cool with my rattler stalking ...until the gopher snake part.

Pretty nifty, eh?

Operation Tumbleweed

Tumbleweed. It is my arch nemesis. Okay not really. But it's probably at least the spawn of satan. How mean am I to say that about a plant, me, the usual champion of weeds? Well. I met the spiny side of this terror. It is not pretty. And it's not nice. And I've made it my mission to eradicate it from the 4 acres upon which I reside. Which, honestly, is laughable. I could pick a bushel a day and never win the race towards dried- spiny- stab- you- in- the- leg season.



Let me start at the beginning. I love weeding. Always have. Tumbleweed comes up easier than any weed I've ever pulled, which is awesome. It gets my zen on, although, granted, I can really only stand hunching over and kneeling and crouching for an hour, tops. It makes me feel terrible empathy for immigrant strawberry pickers making 50 cents an hour under the table. Oooops, didn't mean to delve into politics there. But since I did...

I moved to Arizona. What if the people here didn't let me? I came for a better standard of living, willing to contribute to the economy and abide the laws... granted, I speak the same language, but other than that, how different is my migration from a Mexicans? We're all earthlings, as granola as that may sound. Yeah, I'm a big fat hippie socialist. Oh well. Back to my racist tumbleweed eradication.



See, I'd only kill in self defense. A mosquito bites me, it becomes a bloody smear on my skin. That sort of thing. Tumbleweed not only bites me when I walk by, but it's an invasive species only here because of man-made conditions. Haha, besides being a fat hippie socialist plant racist, I'm leaving the phrase as "man-made" instead of the (?) PC "human made". Oops, I again digressed.



Anyway, while pulling weed after weed, it dawned on me that it would be cool to see my progress. Plus, my pull n' toss method might just end up as transplanting. So I got a bag and started filling it. Pheonix and Lilly not only kept me company, they graciously volunteered as supervisors. And the weirdest thing happened. This feeling of absolute connect, of rightness, came over me. For one thing, I still need as much mind numbing distraction as possible from Sebastian's freak accident death, and weeding gave me that. But when I actually started collecting the tumbleweed, it was like I was reaching into my deepest gene codes, my most ancient ancestry, filling the primitive need to gather. It's like how campfires can mesmerize you. It's our human roots. And, come to think of it, it's why I think we should look at all people as earth dwellers, united, who cares where lines are drawn on maps and what deity or deities any one of us believes or disbelieves in, or who has brown eyes and who has freckles. We all came from the same place, be it monkeys, cavemen in africa, a god who created us and our habitat in seven days, etc.


I don't know. I don't know the answers to these thoughts and feelings. And I can't say my sense of human kinship will change my curmudgeonly tendencies. Nor can I say that I will live and let (tumbleweed) live. I guess all I can do is what I've always done... try to be empathetic, try to treat others with courtesy and respect, try to be thankful for what I have, and most of all, try to have more love than negativity in my system.

But the tumbleweed is still going down.

Lil' Critters Made of Clay

I've branched out from turtles. When I make these critters, except for the cats, which are really easy, three or four hours will pass with out me even being aware of it. It's a great escape, 'cause I don't think about anything other than the clay. Even better of an escape than tequila, because instead of waking up with a headache I wake up will colorful, fanciful lil' characters.


Now, Mom, Potterman and I each pitched in 25 bucks for a booth at the local three day, July 4th faire. I am going to attempt to sell some of my photos, some in mats but most just as cards. And I am even going to try to sell some of my clay creations. I feel terribly vain and egomaniacal about it, but that's not going to stop me. If I can sell just one card or photo or critter it will make my year.

However, considering how long the critters take to make, due to the teeny tiny neuro-surgical steady hand and eye focus required, I will at most have 50 of 'em. That's my goal, anyway. Even if I don't sell a thing, it'll be a good experience. Also, I'll have my christmas shopping done in advance because I'll be pawning 'em all of on my friends and family. MUAH HA HA HA HA.

P.S. Ignore the scary bug behind the kitties. While native, that particular individual is dried and dead, so no clay kitties will be harmed by lurking monsters.

AHA!!

Kay I figured it out.

Hey Peeps

It's been rough here, emotionally. Physically, weatherwise, it's been one beautiful day after another. I've found many new grief diversions, all better than, say, tequila, but Blogger, the confounded blankity blank is (again) refusing my pics. So I have now composed not one, not two, but FOUR new tales of my adventures here... and as soon as Blogger gets it together and I can have illustrations to embelish my stories, I will.

Thanks everyone for the cards and calls and comments about Sebastian.

And now my hash browns are burning. Be back (hopefully) soon.

Love, hermitgirl.