The Awfulness and the Goodness

I thought I'd begin with this photo of one of our Christmas cacti, blooming it's lovely little heart out at the moment. It makes me smile every time I walk into the kitchen. Goodness.

Now. What a week. I try to keep this blog space politically neutral, but I'm sure my personal views come through from time to time and I don't apologize. I am who I am, and I found myself in a nasty Facebook squabble early in the week, when a woman I have enjoyed online (she makes very charming quilts) made some ugly and completely untruthful remarks about the Women's Marches. It shook me to see, firsthand, the lies and hatefulness that is out there. My solution was to discontinue that Facebook relationship, but it nags at me that simply turning away from hatred is no solution at all. Awful.













It felt good to join a rally in downtown Portland on Friday in opposition to the nomination of Betsy DeVos as Secretary of Education, that was organized by our Oregon Senator Jeff Merkely. One of the rally speakers was Eleanore Bailey, the daughter of my old High School/College friend Michael. Eleanore, who was born with Down Syndrome, is a great advocate for students with disabilities and spoke about her own great education through the Portland Public Schools and the right of all students to that same opportunity.












Eleanore and Michael. Goodness!

It has been a good week to retreat to the studio. I finished the piece to submit for the Dinner@8 show. I'm looking forward to being able to share it after the jurying process. Then I started working on a challenge I set for myself to further explore the idea of 3-dimensional fiber art. I will post more about this soon, but here's a taste—













On Saturday Ray and I decided we needed a good walk, so we headed to downtown Beaverton, with the goal of finding the last of three public trashcans that are decorated with my artwork. I had found two, but only knew the approximate location of the third.












Success! It was in the same little triangle park that another of mine is in, just less visible from the street.












The backdrop of all of the week was, of course, the actions of the president, keeping us all on edge. It descended into true awfulness Saturday afternoon as we sat, watching our granddaughter's swim meet and simultaneously, the president's immigration ban taking effect in Facebook post after Facebook post on our phones. Horrifying. And it continues, worse and worse... By last night I felt so dismayed and discouraged that it was hard to imagine what the future would hold. I felt engulfed in the awful. Then I was reminded of goodness—

A friend of my daughter and son-in-law, an immigrant who, like my son-in-law, is studying to become a licensed teacher, lost nearly everything in a fire last month. Last night my daughter posted a Go Fund Me request for modest donations to help him begin to replace things like his computer, basic furnishings, clothing... I reposted it, and within minutes donations began to pour in from our friends, who had never met him, but saw a need and responded. I love you all for not only helping a deserving young man, but for contributing to goodness in this sometimes awful world.



Goodness/Awfulness. Where is the balance today? I'm not keeping score, and one doesn't justify or nullify the other, but we need to keep the goodness going. It's the only thing that can save us—our sanity, our faith in humanity, our souls.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Late Fall

You know I walk most days near a wetland area. And you know I take a lot of photos. I love the fall. I love the cooler temperatures and the changing colors and even the rain. In late November everything softens. The colors are more muted, the sky goes smeary and wet and the edges lose their crispness. We walk in all the weather, until the rain begins to soak in or the wind beats us up and then we retreat to our coffee and hang our wet jackets on the backs of our chairs and watch the storm through steamy windows. Summer seems long gone.













































I am spending time in the studio, and watching the creek rise and fall. It gets dark early and I use little flashlight when I make my way back to the house.








I found the Prisma app for my iPad and marvel at what it finds in my photos, like the one I took of the egret.













Or this photo of red berries, that certainly don't have to stay red.



















It's a little humbling to see how a smart machine can interpret my images in ways I sometimes hope to achieve by my own efforts. I'm not sure what to make of that...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Texas! - Day 29 on the road

Today is a Texas travel day after a couple of great days in Austin and San Antonio. It is so hot here. I have a real problem with this kind of heat. My feet and hands swell, sweat runs into my eyes and I just generally want to die. But we have had a good time, thanks to a nicely air-conditioned room to retreat to at the end of the day, and an occasional cold beer!

One of our favorite sites in Austen was the Lyndon B. Johnson presidential museum and library. Having lived through those tumultuous years of the Johnson presidency, it was a real walk through a very memorable time. I remembered how angry I felt toward Johnson for his inability to get our country OUT of the tragic mess of the Vietnam Nam War. We hated him. Of course hindsight adds perspective. Not that I'm letting him off the hook, but it was more than he, alone, could deal with, it seems.

The building is beautiful, and the exhibits were great. The perspective of time allows us to see many very good things that were accomplished during Johnson's presidency— social programs, such as Job Corps, Head Start, Medicare and the great advances in Civil Rights legislation. Johnson truly was a champion for equality and a compassionate government. He called his vision "The Great Society."

One thing I hated in the Museum was this animatronic Johnson, telling stories. Ugh. It looked nothing like him and was kind of embarrassing.

I did love this portrait, though.

Austin is a beautiful city. I'm going to cover more in a separate post.

 

Yesterday we went to San Antonio for the day. We started at the Alamo and immersed ourselves in the beauty of the old mission and fortress and, of course, the tragic story of the battle of the Alamo.

 

Ray's cousin Sue lives south of San Antonio, so she drove up to meet us for lunch on the San Antonio Riverwalk. We had such a good time catching up with Sue that I forgot to take photos. After lunch we strolled along the Riverwalk, which is just indescribably lovely. Whoever dreamed this idea was genius. Every city should have something like this.

Yes, it is a touristy thing, with lots of overpriced restaurants and bars and sightseeing boats going up and down, but, dang!, it is just, well,—lovely. Yes, we took the boat ride tour. We loved it. And, even the hellacious heat couldn't spoil it. (Ice cream helped)

Go to San Antonio and do this. Really. You won't be sorry. But you likely will be really, really hot.

So, today is a car day all day long. We are headed for Lubbuck, hometown of Buddy Holly and I'm humming " That'll be the day-ay-ay when I die..."

 

 

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Summer Nights

The other night I was sitting right where I am sitting right now and turned, in my chair, to see a raccoon less than three feet away, looking at me through the glass door. We made eye contact, then he turned and ambled off into the darkness. Ray had gone, about an hour before, out across the yard to the studio where we have been sleeping for the past few weeks during the remodeling of our bedroom. I would soon be heading out as soon as I brushed my teeth, washed my face and gathered my stuff, and now I knew that there was quite a large raccoon out there, probably between me and the studio. 

I stepped out, locking the door to the house behind me and stood waiting for the motion sensor light to acknowledge me and a few minutes longer to allow all critters to retreat to the undergrowth.  In those quiet moments I breathed in the scents of jasmine and fir and lilies and listened to frogs and crickets and the rustle of leaves high in the trees and forgot, for the moment, about the raccoon. It's a short walk down the path, over the bridge and into the studio. Ray leaves the porch light on for me. Still, I feel alert to danger, or at least, unpleasant surprises. Anything could happen in the time it takes to make my way from porch to porch. 

The usually so familiar path feels unfamiliar and a little menacing in the dark. My own shadow looms. Still, the night sky, moon, stars and passing cars up on the road as I approach the studio are reassuring and once inside all is well. 

Ray told me the last night we spent in the studio he encountered a possum coming out from under the studio porch who, upon seeing Ray, headed back under the porch. Ray flushed him from under the porch with the garden hose and chased him off. But he, and the raccoon, and who knows who else are out there. And while I have suspected as much, now I know. It has been an illuminating few weeks traversing the nighttime yard. Beautiful, peaceful, fragrant and still—and alive out there. 

Killer slug waiting in the dark....

Good night house. I made it.

A Day in the Country

Besides their house in Cuenca, the Molina family has a cottage in the countryside—a weekend retreat.

Cayo designed the little house and this is where his mother, Chela, indulges her love of gardening and especially flowers. The family packs up huge baskets of food and loads everything into taxis for the 30-minute ride to the house in Zhullin. (One–way taxi fare, by the way, is $6). They do what we all do at the family cabin—read, relax, barbecue, eat, play soccer on the lawn, nap and walk along the river. This was our Sunday. Beautiful.

More Ecuador inspiration

More of Andy's photos from Ecuador. The previous bunch focused on cities, but some of the best places in Ecuador are not in the city. I have been to Emily's in-laws' house in the country, or in "el campo" as they call it.

My son-in-law designed this house as a weekend retreat for his parents. It is quite charming and has a lawn and garden, things you don't see in the cities. More of el campo:

One of the houses above may be that of Emily's friend, Nubia. I know they visited her on the day these photos were taken. The last is quite unusual for Ecuador, where very few houses are built from wood. Most of the construction is masonry, of one kind or another, or concrete. The fact that the last house is made from wood and actually has rain gutters makes me suspicious that it is the home of one of the many American expats who have settled around Cuenca. It has become very popular for Gringos looking for an inexpensive change of pace in retirement.

Andy's notation on this photo was "market" and though I don't know what kind of market, or where, it exhibits the kind of quirkiness that you see so often, and one of the things I really love about Ecuador.

These views from Ecuador are among my favorites and are burned into my memory. Emily, at one time, had a tiny apartment perched on a hillside in Quito with this amazing view of an area called Guapalo.

And the rooftops of Cuenca.

I made a small quilted piece this week. A memory.