Rejection

The coldly, I thought, written letter arrived yesterday. Each piece was listed and followed by the word declined. They try to make it sound like it was just a fluke because they had so many entries that yours was just one of most of them that were rejected. It doesn't feel any better. I had been working on a new collage, maybe construction is a better word and nearly winged it across the room. I'm putting all this shit away.

Running

My father was a runner before there was running. He used to run down the road out in the country where we lived and my friends would ask me where he was running to. Sometime when he got older after retirement, he started walking. Despite all that running, walking and clean living he died at 73 in November of 2001 of a stroke.

'Tis the last rose of summer.

Or something like that. My balcony all packed up and ready to over-winter. I might plant some bulbs this fall and see what happens. I am making a solemn promise not to plant tomatoes next year.

Most recently

Three collages I entered in a show at the Kohler Arts Center.

Zen

In the Charlotte airport I ran across a group of Tibetan buddhists in line at Burger King. Aside from matching the place quite nicely, the 10 or more of them enjoy Whoppers. Two spoke English and they ordered for the rest who hung around the outskirts waiting anxiously. They all had Crocs and Teva sandals on.

Forty minutes from nowhere

My friend Lois moved to somewhere outside of Marshall NC about 15 years ago. She lives in utter isolation. The view from her window, below, is worth the price of admission. The town of Marshall, 20 minutes from Asheville, boasts, Ponder Auto and not much else but a Presbyterian church and the French Broad River. The last picture is Lois pointing out where her cat, Black Cat, is buried, just beyond the angel that marks the grave for Bob her beloved dog.

The last rose of the summer

I snipped off all the little pretty blooms and blossoms from what is left of my balcony garden. And the next day hideous cold winds blew through and took whatever I hadn't gotten.

Sunday dinner.

I made dinner for friends on Sunday night. I'm not sure where the compulsion to feed people comes from but I have it. I started with curried butternut squash soup. I roasted a whole butternut, then caramelized shallots, leeks and garlic and added the secret ingredient from Lea and Perrins and some chicken stock and cream and loads of butter. Then I made a roasted beet, walnut and bleu cheese salad, followed by spaghetti and sugu meat. The sauce is made from my tomatoes and the meat is meatballs, sausages (purchased the sausages), beef, chicken and pork. It cooks for days. and I followed it with chocolate cake. Hate frosting things.

A use for the useless

While I may not have cooked with them, I did find a use for them. Still Life. I took them to St John's for my class. I usually bring something for everyone to paint. Yesterday it was peppers. So at least I did something aside from look at them. And I did put one in the tomato sauce I'm currently making.

On the street where I live

Rue Rabaton dead ends right below my bedroom window. Walk straight ahead, a little jog around the building at the end of the street here and you will be looking into my bedroom window. It is cold and raining here now. It is warm and sunny there.

Peck of peppers

This week I bought a zillion peppers at the farmer's market just to buy something. I can't imagine using so many of them but they're pretty and if I were going to be pickling, I'm not, but if I were, I could use a few of them. I also bought messy sunflowers and a giant bunch of cosmos.

Farmers market flowers

I like to buy as much as I possibly can at the farmer's market though there is only so much I can eat. So I like to get flowers, though I don't usually buy them. I love zinnias. These were gigantic and the colors were so weird I had to get them. I do not, however, like walking home with a big bunch of flowers. I'm not sure why that is.

Winston

Thinking of Florence

I gave this little concrete rabbit to my Aunt Florence many years ago. She loved rabbits, even more so when she wasn't sober which was quite often. It's a hose guide and I had had it in my yard but I knew she'd like it so I gave it to her and put it near her front door and she LOVED it. She was hard to please, not because she was particular but because she wasn't. She didn't need or want much so I was happy to see how much she loved it over the years. When she died I took it back and now it rests on my tiny table,with the huge steel rebar sticking out of its belly is down the hole where the umbrella would go. The rebar, which is not removable is there so it could be plunged deeply into the ground and the hose couldn't move it when you were watering. It prevented your flowers from being crushed. I think of Florence whenever I see it.

In the wake of tomato sauce

I watched a woman on the Food channel make tomato sauce yesterday. She said it took 20 minutes. I will have to inform my Italian business partner whose recipe I use. It takes the better part of a weekend to make.

Stop the insanity.

One last thing. Morning glories from inside my condo. It's a little cloudy and I'm shooting through the screen door but they are as blue as the sky. No more morning glories. Unless there is some miracle of sorts which, you never know, there could be. But probably not.

Queen for a night

I never saw her bloom. It was just the one night and it's over in all her glory she was alone and unattended. And now here is what's left, twisted and spent. So much for being queen of the night.

The most perfect blue.

There is just nothing as beautiful as the blue of these flowers. I've tried to paint and draw them and there is no way to make them look beautiful as they do in real life. When I went out to water everything this morning, it was very overcast and some of the flowers had not fully opened. I love that. They remind me of little bats wings unfolding. And I was touched by a lone flower blooming among the fading and the fresh feverfew, and whatever that bedding plant it is I put in this summer that's popular at the moment, its jittery white blossoms poking out here and there. It has covered the oregano which is usually pushy enough to fight it's way through anything.

More-ning glories

Weather being what it is, I may have a profusion of flowers before I'm done. This is their progression. First, the one, then 2, then 4 then this morning 6. I'm hoping for 10 tomorrow.

The Queen of the Night

On the other end of my balcony the queen of the night is about to bloom. It will bloom at night and I will not bother to get up and look at it. Whatever insect, bird or bat that pollenates it doesn't exist here and so this dramatic event will go unnoticed. It is the first time it's bloomed since I moved it here. And just the one bloom isn't enough to motivate me. I've had as many as 7 on it before. The first picture is 2 days ago, the other is this morning.

Morning glorious.

Finally a morning glory.

Pickled green tomato

I had these little jars I'd saved from some fig jam my sister and brother-in-law had given me. I save jars I like. They fit one green tomato exactly. I spent like 20 minutes getting the damn things inside and straight and looking essentially whole. Put in the dill, garlic, pepper corns and red pepper (not hot unfortunately) and when I poured in the brine the whole thing got discombobulated. After I processed them and they cooled down, I spent another 20 minutes or so turning them every which-a-ways to get them back into some semblance of the position they were formerly in. The jar in the middle is from Harrod's by the way. I have no idea what used to be in it.

Labor Day labor

More concerned with how they look than how they taste.

Pickles

Bread and butter pickles. The next picture is dill. I spent Saturday making pickles. I also made tomato sauce and jarred it. Though I realized when I tasted what remained in the pot, that I forgot to salt it. This is probably not such a huge problem since I can salt it when I make whatever it is I will make with it but one of the jars didn't seal so I reopened them, salted it and reprocessed the jars. A nice way to kill a lovely sunny day.

After spending the day in the hot sweaty kitchen of my condo I then went to the 40th high school class reunion of the seminary from which I did not graduate but only attended for a year and a half. I am not connected to these men and they seem very connected, even after all these years. Only one priest showed up, though I somehow have remained friendly with him, the rest are just shadows of people I used to know.

Four Collages

Something I have always wanted to make. Collages. I can't think what possessed me to sit down and start except that I had a lot of junk I'd saved, like the little paper tags they put on your laundered shirts and pieces of tickets and other ephemera that interests me. I have a lot of prayer books I plan to cannibalize.

Morning not glorious

This is my morning glory. It has twined nicely up around my light but there is little hope it will bloom anytime soon. Like my tomatoes which will most likely not turn red, the morning glories have pin-head sized blooms which are not getting bigger and will disappoint me. At least I can turn the green tomatoes into pickles.

Balcony wildlife

This is the home of my pet spider, Edmund.

Balcony garden

This is the south end of my little garden. Bay laurel which stay out until December and then tolerate the indoors for a few months before I put them back where they belong. When I put them out, the house seems empty, when I bring them in, it is cram packed. There is also some basil, a queen of the night, impatiens, some of which has volunteered in my christmas cactus. And there is my sweet opuntia.

This is my feverfew. I love it. It has been a constant companion no matter where I lived for almost 20 years.

Gardening in tiny spaces.

This is the north end of my garden. In this mess of plants are tomatoes, cucumbers, sage, thyme, basil (way too much to ever eat), rosemary, feverfew, kenilworth ivy, sunbeam coreopsis, morning glories, some sort of salvia which was supposed to bloom red but didn't, petunias and a few other things whose names I can't recall. a lot of this is just stuff that comes back year after year. I've had the feverfew and kenilworth ivy for more than 20 years, moving it accidently from place to place (well, 3 places). The coreopsis snuck in there about 10 years ago. I had the most lovely wild morning glories for years but they abandoned me. I feel bad about that. The thyme is perennial. It doesn't seem to mind staying on the balcony all winter. The sage is new this year. The rosemary comes inside in December and tolerates the heat and dryness of my condo until I put it back out in April. It usually has some sort of pest issue. Scale, mites, mildew, I give it a shower every few weeks.

Key lime Pie

Key limes are not easy to find if you are not a restaurant. I had to use bottled stuff with an additional kick from a regular lime. It has been almost 8 months since I made one. And I made about 4 zillion of them but I could not, for the life of me, remember what the hell was in them.