Making pizza and paintings

my glasses where I left them

 Channeling William Carlos Williams here:
(but the female multi-tasking version)
making pizza
need yeast from fridge
old celery in fridge
recipe for celery soup?
need glasses to look in cook book
where are they?
outside hanging from the garden fence post where I left them several hours ago
go get them
take camera with me to take a picture of the inside of the compost bin.

interior of the compost bin

Which brings us to the main idea of this post:
I have become someone who thinks of "planting" plastic bags on my property so as to allow it to get embedded into the natural environment as it does in the woods around here....I want to make some more paintings of this phenomeon...and when I went to get compost out of the big bin, there were some beautiful plastic bag specimens curling through the compost....

Detritus #4 oil on linen

Gardening?

Is this gardening?

  So I was out taking care of a big job: removing the entire "raised bed" of raspberry bushes. Please don't ask why I had a raised  bed of raspberry bushes; it was not a good thing. So  that's why I was removing it, re-potting as many of them as possible in the hope of finding them new homes either with friends or even elsewhere on my property.

I receive "Organic gardening" magazine in the mail. The pictured gardens, fruits, and plants, are all so perfect and lovely. Nothing like the intense chaos that I call a  garden. The raspberry culling event happened to be right next to what is supposed to be my herb garden. Some different concepts are battling for supremacy in my herb garden, There are the many "volunteers" or plants that have decided to show up without necessarily checking in with me first. These include fabulous things like anise, echinacea, chives....It also includes weeds, which brings us to the second category: useful weeds like lambs quarter which I use to augment the spinach in spinach pie....and then the third category is baby raspberry bushes. These had made an escape from the "raised bed..."
 .
As I work in the garden, I am aware of how much it connects not only to house-keeping, but to how one lives life. I keep my garden open to so many possibilities, that they sometimes smother each other out. Or don't produce as they would if they had more space. Reminds me of both my attic and my life. I have a lot of trouble deciding that one plant (or a book or a dress) is good and another bad.

Naturally then, weeding is extremely challenging to me. Even huge dandelions seem worth keeping; I think to myself that I might want to photograph them soon for a possible painting idea. It is just like going up to my attic determined to find some stuff to throw away on trash day, and coming downstairs with a big box of "junk" that turns out to contain a potentially valuable Hess truck toy, a sheaf of writing and drawing from when my oldest son was fabricating paper cars, and some soccer trophies. It is not clear that these things can be thrown away, though in the cold light of the computer as I write about it, it seems like they should. At the moment of dragging them from the attic closer to the trash can, I am wondering if I should wait to ask my son if he wants any of it, and I know my husband would kill me if I threw away one of the Hess trucks....

But for some reason, I love to weed. I love the visual clarity of weeding everything out but one type of leaf in a given area, and of how often the weed in a given area seems to mimic the chosen inhabitant of that area. When I weed for hours in the SPring or summer, I sometimes see after images when I shut my eyes at night, huge black circles of dandelion leaves exploding in some canyon of my vision....And then the otehr day, I was done weed-wacking and staggered across my patio and happened to look up and found myself stunned by the dangling beauty of the wisteria.  They reminded me somehow of galaxies....

Tooth and Tree

Can you see the crack running down vertically from the junction of the two main limbs stretching up? This is the same old huge maple tree that my son and artist Matt Bua secured the base of their "tree house bridge" to.

My husband noticed the crack a while back. This tree is behind our house, very close to our house. I have since noticed a similar old maple tree at our soccer field with a similar crack. I wonder if this is a common old age affliction of maple trees. The huge limbs press upward full of strength for years, and then the weight of all that vigor and strength begins to succumb to gravity...and slowly, the huge vertical limbs start to pull away from their core....they come "unglued" so to speak.

We need a "tree guy" now to come tell us what to do. Can we wrap the tree with a huge steel belt,  to prevent it from splitting apart? Would that work? OR would he suggest lopping off one of the huge limbs, maybe the one looming over the roof of the house?

Meanwhile, and not so differently, I must seek the attention of the dentist to ascertain exactly what is going on deep inside my tooth. Does it have a similar crack that is slowly widening and allowing great gusts of cold air to hit an exposed nerve? Ot is it simply decaying gums exposing the root of the tooth? Which would be bettter? Which costs more to fix? or shore up? Can something be loped off to make it stop hurting?

That's all for now from Aging Acres....

The Drawings

the Crisis Farm drawings

See "Crisis Farm" post about 2 posts back. It was unseasonably warm and beautiful...no one moved all the collected detritus, so I could work several hours a day on these drawings. There is nothing so rejuvenating as slow rumination on the concept of crisis...I find myself pondering the big questions, like, Will any of this stuff get moved once my drawing is done and there is no reason for it to remain? and Where can all this stuff go? To what category of storage does a large plumbing apparatus belong? Will we be able to eradicate the collapsing barn? What would it feel like to look out my bedroom window and not see the old ramshackle monstrosity?

But drawing the whole time. Drawing and thinking.

A Less Orderly Life

garden fresh

One of the many benefits of a less orderly life is that in the Spring, when I crave the bitter strong taste of dandelion after a long winter of store-bought greens, we have plenty of huge beautiful specimens to dig up. I bring them inside, wash them, cut the leaves at the base so they are all free of the stem, and toss them into a frying pan in which olive, garlic, and salt are already sizzling....Soooo delicious. And as organic as the $5.99 bunches in the "Health Food Store".

See other posts for some of the drawbacks of a less orderly life. My 16 year old son just asked me the other day while making a cup of tea, wether I thought it was possible for a "Crisis Farm" to be neat and tidy. In other words, is it perhaps the nature of the beast to constantly be in flux with unfinished projects, collections of potentially useful materials, gardens in which weeds are OK (cause many are after all edible!) and so on. I told him about an old, but working, farm I had just driven by yesterday where the verdant pastures were littered with rusting machinery and bits of ancient vehicles, but where also perfectly operational tractors and trucks were parked in front of the big barn.....Perhaps each vehicle as it died functioned for awhile as a parts supplier....And it almost looked to me yesterday like a natural sculpture park...but I know I have a special vision when it comes to junk.

Practically Embracing Technology

That's his head on the bottom of the screen

My son is in college in Florida. He and his fellow animation students are given more homework than is humanly possible to accomplish in the allotted time. Incredibly, he made it this far, past the middle of March without paying the inevitable price for countless sleepless nights augmented by no time to eat either. Then, this past weekend, he spent the entire weekend unable to work due to a fever, headache, and just plain malaise.

 He and I have been "skyping" alot. It is a great way to show each other drawings that we are working on, and I will admit to helping arrange furniture in one of his illustrations, etc. You can even view each other's desktops! But this weekend, we reached a new height of intimacy. He suddenly disappeared from the screen and when I asked him what he was doing, he replied "Folding laundry." Then he explained, still off camera, that he thought he had better make the bed in case he suddenly needed to sleep again. Sure enough, he lay down on it in front of me and I could just see the top of his familiar head. After awhile, I continued working, and realized that he had fallen asleep on camera. I called his name softly, and he woke up long enough to agree that he needed to take a nap. So we agreed that I would leave the camera on so as to be able to wake him in a while,  and went out and worked in my garden. When I came back an hour later, there was my boy, just the top of his head, still sleeping. So after awhile, I woke him up so he could eat some dinner, which he didn't feel like doing. It was as though he was home again...in his usual corner only this time actually really  "on the computer" more literally than he ever was in the flesh...

Crisis Farm

Looking south at the house, west to the mountains and bathtub, northwest to the collapsed barn

No one can say I'm not inspired by my surroundings. I have just had the blissful epiphany at the age of 51 that everything I've done and not done up until now is what my life is about, and so it is time to make drawings about this. My husband and I have felt very unsure about the big move we made out of Manhattan 10 years ago and up to this old farmhouse on 12 acres in the Catskills. There is so much to say about what has been difficult that I won't begin. But I think that the photos above give you some idea of our engagement with this place. I am using the word "engagement" very consciously, as it is used to describe battles and war missions; but also as it refers to engagement to be married forever, as in, hopefully in love.

And it wasn't until my son went off far away from here, to Animation school and met a friend there who was apparently (and much to my son's surprise) envious of my son's upbringing on a "crisis farm" as they coined it. That appellation has really pleased me. It explains the whole thing. Not only were we reacting from the crisis of experiencing 911 in NYC, but we were anticipating every crisis that is and may be coming...fuel shortage (note the plastic vegetable oil containers all over the place left over from fueling the diesel jetta for over 100,000 miles and the heaps of fire wood for heating the house on wood), the food crisis (organic gardening, bee-keeping, maple-sugaring, raising chickens, all a must), the crisis in education epitomized by the awesome structure that sculptor and friend Matt Bua is helping my homeschooled son to erect in the yard to satisfy the "Shop" mandate for 7th grade.

So, our place screams of our engagement. You can see bee boxes stacked up against the wall of the house on the left; you can see gardening tools and the wheelbarrow, not neatly put away, because you can also see at the right, our huge collapsing barn. You can see 2 greenhouses way in the background, one small useful one for the 70 or so chickens, and the other a "crisis farm" mistake...a detour into intensive aquaponic gardening that didn't pan out,.

looking north to the veggie oil car and my studio...

So, this early Spring weather has me outside every morning working on 3 drawings that document my view this Spring of life on the "crisis farm". If I can, I may even extend it on to a fourth drawing continuing the 180 degree view...There is no end to the view here....

I just realized reading back on what I wrote that I have solved a 10 year problem of what to call this farm...we sometimes have to come up with a name for farm market venues if we want to sell honey, eggs, or raspberries, and now we have it: Crisis Farm. Forget Raspberry Ridge and Joy Farms.