Inspiration from Nature

Wow, it has been over a week since I was on this site to write. SO much has happened since then. We have a new president elect, the days have become darker and shorter AND I learned to spin and dye yarn!!

There were 10 anxious fiber hounds gathered around the living room in Club dei Belle for the weekend, all hungry to learn. Marie, owner of Brooklyn Handspun, came up from the Big Apple to share her wisdom and experience. The "Queen" of spinning and dyeing arrives at Logan Airport resembling Rapunzel with a spinning wheel flung over one shoulder, 28 skeins of undyed hanks over the other and 3 bags full of raw fleece ready to take color.

We spun until sunset on Saturday with anticipation of splashing chemicals from one end of our work to the other. On Sunday morning we did just that. We drew our inspiration from what surrounded us. It was handed to us on Mother Natures silver platter.This time of year in New England it is brimming with vibrance everywhere. We were given permission to use her, and we did, filling our minds and our spirits with natures color palette. When the day was done we gave thanks to nature's mother, to Marie Carney and to ourselves. Each of us left with an arm full of dyed fiber dressed in our own interpretation of earth's pigments all ready for handcrafting. These beauties might become a pair of socks, handwarmers or a lace scarf but whatever their masters make of them, I know, they were truely created from the heart.

I Voted...

Yes, I was there at 6:30 AM. I wasn't the first in line but I was the second. One by one bodies stagger in, not yet fully awake, a Starbucks latte in one hand and a desire for change in the other.

At 7 am, they called me in. "Sixth precinct, to the left, give the first letter of your street name", I hear from the veteran volunteer with strong vocal cords that are loud enough for the 33rd person in line to get the message.

"A" is my letter. "A" for Atlantic Avenue. I am checked off and my, yes my, paper ballot is issued to me. I glance at it almost afraid to look at it fully like it's a document that was given to me by the secret service to personally deliver to the White House . Somehow my choice is all that counts today. I take a deep breath, and proceed to the booth. My hand is quivering, my heart is racing and I feel a little faint. Sort of like the feeling I get every time I go for a mammogram.

I set the elongated, white, crisp paper down and begin to read. Why is it all such a blur? Oh, of course, my glasses. I am fishing around in my clutch looking for my glasses thinking all the while that the veteran volunteer, with the loud lungs, is going to look over and shout out, "what are you looking for over there", and I will be embarrassed in front of my all my neighbors.

Specs are on and I am ready. First vote is Commander in Chief. My finger scrolls down the list.
The last name in the column is spelled out. That name spells change, youth, inspiration. It spells value, father, intelligence. It spells husband, eloquence, genuine. It spells strength, transformation, leader. It spells my vote. I have never felt so sure of my vote. I fill in the hollow oval in jet black ink. Hard and thick so that my choice is not missed. The rest doesn't really matter. I skim along the remaining columns. Yes, on not mistreating the greyhounds anymore.
On state income taxes, come on, if I want good schools, police protection, and the arts, I vote for it. On grass, a no brainer.

I am done. That took all of 3 minutes. I walk to the silver counting machine and submit my selection. I stand until the last quarter inch disappears. I am relieved. I am free. I am elated.

I have never felt more proud to be an American.

Before the Ferry Sets Sail

From the time the registration check cleared my husbands account until the second my toe touched the Port Authority Ferry headed for Vineyard Haven, I am flat out. In the store, huge boxes of fiber are coming in the back door and flying out the front door. 'Tis our season! September through March we are in Ferrari fifth gear. No, not just me, the entire staff; Margie, Denise, Kendra, Michele, Laurie, Andrea, Rhonda, Roberta, Helene and Trysh are all scrambling to keep up. There are multiple classes going on at the same time. All completely full. The store is mobbed with fiber lovers from all over. Just keeping the store stocked becomes a midnight job. There is a frantic calmness to the activity. Everyone is respectful of each other, all honoring each others hard work and the endless hours of dedication. In the midst of a month of full throttel service, Kaffe Fassett and Brandon Mably arrive. Kaffe's event has been sold out for a week and Brandon's color workshop is a full house. We all stop, take a very deep breath, and everything organically folds into slow motion. Even if it is for just a few days.

The Vineyard

I just spent the last 4 days in total bliss. I was on the Vineyard. For everyone west of New England, it's more famous address is Martha's Vineyard. I was at a writing workshop. How much more decadent can life be then to take 4 days away from the grind, sit cross legged on the floor with a wise, scribe guru and paint with words? My long time friend decided to come along after a lunch we had together in August where I described to her the contents of the material I had gathered off the Internet. She, herself a novice writer, was struggling to move forward with a novel she started some years ago and was ready to rid herself of writers block and unleash the next 14 chapters.

We each presented the idea to our husband's hinting that they gift us this for our September birthday's since we celebrate them just one week apart. They, in turn, jumped at the opportunity of being let off the hook. My husband was anxious to make his check book available and asks numerous times for the address of where to send the fee. He seems relieved to not have to think about anything else beyond this point for my big day. My friend and I yelled WOOP-TEE-DOO when the envelope is licked and the stamp was secured on the right corner of the front of my husbands personal stationary. We are there, even though we aren't there for another 7 weeks. At this point we aren't as interested as we originally were about the workshop. It has all sunk in that we are spending 4 nights and 5 days away on Martha's Vineyard.

To be continued..........

The British have come, The British have come!!

Yes, yes it is true, they where sleeping across the hallway from me. In my own house, no less!

I looked down the hallway and the lights in their rooms were on late at night. Who? Well, Kaffe Fassett and Brandon Mably, of course! Kaffe was in the blue room and Brandon in the grey room. But what are they creating in there? A new quilt pattern that will eventually end up in the Smithsonian or some really snappy patterned sweater authored by Brandon?

My house was totally smokin' with creativity. Brandon wanders from room to room re-decorating. I do take his opinion seriously. C'mon, he is the PRINCE of color and design. Kaffe is the quieter of the two. There is an aura of serenity and centered thoughtfulness that surrounds his spirit. I keep wondering what he is thinking. Is the decorating conversation boring him or has he managed to perfect the art of letting the world go on around him while he focuses on his craft?

Together they decided that Kaffe's "Nona" quilt should hang on the large empty wall opposite my grand staircase. I agree the colors are perfect and the fact that my grandchildren call me "Nonna" (the Italian version of Nona) and Kaffe called his grandma "Nona" makes it all so personal and sentimental. Brandon continues. We're now standing in the entry. "We need some chartreuse! Some life! Some color! Something to tie in, The Man in the Blue Beard, a painting of an over sized naked man with a blue beard that myself and the artist gave to my husband for his 55th birthday. It is hanging smack in the middle of the entry above the fireplace. First thing you see when you walk in the door. It wasn't like I hadn't thought of chartreuse before, but this cements it. Chartreuse it is.

I suggested some sort of green walls in the kitchen to break up all the amethyst I went wild with some years ago when we renovated. Brandon is on it, paging through magazine after magazine to find just the right color. "Here it is Victoria" as his index finger lands on page 72 of the March, 2007, House and Garden Magazine issue. I glance down at the page and I see an article titled, Perfume Fields. My eyes fall on a picture of Chanel's Jacque Polge wearing a pair of slick, classy green trousers. He is right. He is dead on. In the background Kaffe is relaxingly knitting new patterns for Peruvian Connections. He glances up over his bi-focuals, nods an approval and we move on. I will have it done by the time they return in the spring.

In my dining room, "glaze the whole thing. It looks too much like a wedding cake". Minkly, I answer, "What do you mean?" trying to wrap my head around "glazing" over the muraled panels I had painted of Venice. I am pretty good at visuals but I just don't get this one. Brandon answers,"The painter will know. I think a baby blue glaze will be perfect. The color of the sky you have painted on the ceiling." Kaffe, again nods. He always, graciously, slides in with a final approval. I do think I have to meditate on that one.

He bypasses the loggia where my grand children have their playroom. No comment. Phewww!!

Now to the library. By this time I am taking mental notes to scratch on a pad when we are done. Will I even be able to remember everything? I had wanted to add a bright, warm color to the library. I mention a sunny, yellowy, mustardy color to add a little sunshine to this dark stoic room. Simultaneously, the boys say "NO! Leave it!" With all the mahogany paneling lining the walls they felt that they were nestled in a "walnut shell, so warm and so cozy". I surrender. Sometimes it is better to leave dark, dark.

I am exhausted and my check book is quivering but at the same time it is refreshing and exhilarating. I am ready for a change. This is a time of change.

Always creating,

Victoria