Thank you, Kate, for bringing us together for these monthly scrap-happy challenges. Kate and Gun have hosted this blog hop for a decade. Impressive, eh? Forget your troubles, come on get scrappy.
My contribution this month uses scraps of velum and several pages from last year’s The Old Farmer’s Almanac calendar to create three greeting cards.
I used two pieces of heavy white card stock for the body of the card, then adhered a pretty section of the calendar to the card front. These illustrations by artist Kristen Kest are too pretty to toss.
I ran both layers through my nifty die cutter, then scored the top and glued it to the back layer.
I stamped a couple of sentiments onto scraps of velum (I love using velum) and added them to the front of the card. Making these cards was quick, easy, and fun or in Kate’s parlance, scrap-happy.
I have a few more pages of the calendar to craft with. I hope to get to that next month.
Thanks as always, Kate.
Here’s a list of contributing scrap-happy bloggers:
Assembling a jigsaw puzzle is the ultimate escape. It’s engaging but not taxing, and with one thousand pieces, it requires time and patience.
Conversely, I had neither time nor patience throughout December, yet I started assembling a puzzle anyway, and once done, I started another one.
Studies suggest that puzzles increase the production of dopamine, a chemical that regulates mood, memory, and concentration. Once I cracked open the puzzle box, the sorting began, and the list of things I needed to do fell by the wayside. A spell had been cast, one puzzle piece at a time.
Most of the time, I’m an organized and capable person, so I’m uncomfortable feeling this scattered. I planned to make Christmas cards this year and had the supplies. Making cards and corresponding with friends is a joy. I eventually sat down at my crafting table and created a dozen cards, but by day’s end, fatigue won out, and most of my cards remained unsent.
I made one card, using scraps, to join Kate’s ScrapHappy blog hop mid-December, but I lacked the time to create a post.
Earlier in the year, I set aside vintage Christmas postage to make a card from a friend’s stash. You guessed it: finished but unsent.
And Permits? How did that get into the title?
It’s a long and tedious story, so here’s my attempt at brevity. The space between the sidewalk and the street, known locally as the sidewalk strip, is the homeowner’s responsibility, but the City governs usage. When we bought our home nearly thirty years ago, we inherited a strip of lawn. We applied for a permit and planted a “street tree.” During the worst of the drought years, we removed the lawn. Mike built a planter box in its place, and I’ve happily planted seasonal flowers, tomatoes, and whatever else wanted to self-seed there for many years.
In the last decade, the tree declined. We applied for a permit to replace the tree. The City denied our request, saying the tree wasn’t sick enough. City workers came through this spring and pruned every tree on the block to prepare for road work, leaving a sickly tree in its wake. They approved our second request to remove and replace the tree.
Two weeks later, we received a Repair Notice and Permit saying we had to remove the planting box, calling it a tripping hazard. I’ll share more details in a future post, but suffice it to say I’m sad, disappointed, and, for a time, overwhelmed by the amount of work it would take to dismantle my beloved curb garden, not to mention the expense.
The City gave us thirty days to remove the tree, the planting box, and all the soil and gravel, plants, bulbs, and irrigation that went with it. When I called, they offered an extension but refused to budge on the planter.
I can always send those Christmas cards next year.
In the wee hours of the morning on November 6th, I crawled out of bed and confirmed what I already knew. Kamala Harris lost the presidential election to a vile man.
Since then, I’ve managed a near-100% media blackout, avoiding print, radio, and TV. Further, I’m on an extended break from social media. It’s tough to reconcile the fact that 50% of the votes cast in this election nominated a racist, misogynistic, lying, cheating man who is now free of any consequences for his contemptible behavior. I feel sick with grief.
While I’m not one to stick my head in the sand, this is how I’m coping with my sorrow and dread of what’s to come. It’s exhausting.
California is home to 39 million people, 27% of whom are immigrants. People are scared. My internal mantra has been “mourn, then mobilize,” but it will be a while before I get there.
I’ll end with this quote:
“We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” James Baldwin
Resist: Marches, Rallies, and Vigils Click on image for details
October left town on Friday, foisting the reality of November and the most significant election of my lifetime, November 5. I’ve kept busy all month with organizing clients and social engagements, spending time with friends and family, and trying to avoid the news.
Unseasonably hot temperatures kept me out of the garden the first week of October. It’s hard to fathom triple-digit days at a time when the angle of the sun says fall, not July.
I celebrated my birthday on October 2, and we had fun handing out candy on Halloween. Mike carved three beautiful pumpkins for the front deck. Soon, they’ll join the compost bin. The seeds are outside for the squirrels to enjoy or to plant a pumpkin for next year.
This year, I polished off the last of my Halloween paper and ephemera, making cards for friends, seasonal bookmarks, and craft-making kits next to the children’s Little Free Library. I offered seeds from my garden as well.
My friend Marcia gave me a treasure trove of vintage postage, so I had fun making a few pumpkins.
There are plenty of tasks in an autumn garden, and we’re finally enjoying the cool weather needed to get things done. I’ve been pruning where appropriate and removing spent annuals. The anemones grew tall this year, with the extra weight of blooms, bending them in a gentle arch to show off a snowy white skirt. I removed the flower stalks from the lower garden but left a pair of tall plants to go to seed. The hummingbirds will be along in a few months to harvest the seed fluff for their nests.
A second round of nasturtiums arrived on the scene, flaunting lovely saucer-sized leaves and a limited number of orange and red flowers. Nasturtiums self-seed in the spring and summer, dying off by the middle of July. The fall variety has proliferated in a section planted with freesia. They’re lovely.
This morning, I planted forty spring bulbs, a mixture of double yellow narcissus and grape hyacinth. I replaced the leggy coleus growing in a pot along our deck with cold-weather cyclamen. We enjoyed a light rain overnight, refreshing the garden and the stale air.
In the wee hours of Sunday, the US ends Daylight Saving Time (DST) or Falls Back. Here’s hoping this isn’t a metaphor for what could happen if this country doesn’t vote for Democracy. I’m cautiously optimistic for a better way forward.
“There’s no such thing as a vote that doesn’t matter.” – Barack Obama
For the second time this year, I had the privilege of modeling in a customer fashion show at Kismet, a boutique in Los Gatos. Kismet is my go-to shop for affordable, comfortable, stylish, and special-occasion clothes. I wandered in one day several years ago and found the perfect dress. I’ve been a fan ever since.
Jennifer opened Kismet in 2002, fulfilling her dream of owning a clothing store, but it’s more than that. It’s a place where you feel like part of a family, with excellent customer service and a warm, inviting atmosphere. The fact that my friend Andrea works there only adds to the personal connection I feel. It’s kismet, indeed.
Unchained’s mission is “Achieved through our flagship program, Canines Teaching Compassion (CTC), uniting at-risk youth with homeless dogs in a purposeful bond of learning and healing. Each carefully structured CTC session involves small groups of youth working intimately with dogs, guided by our skilled trainers, to nurture empathy, master new skills, and build a positive future outlook.” Source
Liverpool jeans are renowned for their inclusive sizing, fitting all types of bodies. Their recent addition of jeans with longer inseams further emphasizes their commitment to inclusivity. I had the opportunity to model a pair and then purchase them (of course) with a generous discount. Jeans, often considered among the least eco-friendly garments, are being redefined by Liverpool’s focus on better alternatives, including sustainable trims, chemical-free closures, recyclable fabrics, processes that use less water, and organic cotton.
Pictured above: My friend Andrea and store manager, Hannah. Most of all, we had fun. We modeled jeans with a top, then returned for a second round and added a warm layer. Our third pass featured a second outfit. In my case, I wore a black knit sweater, black trousers, and a fuzzy white bolero.
Kismet provided models and guests with a bistro box lunch from Bleu Fig and a delicious and fashion-forward shortbread cookie by Love Vero Sugar Co. that tasted as good as it looked.
We rounded out the morning with a fun shopping atmosphere before the boutique opened to the public, then headed home with a bag of swag. Jen and Hannah know how to bring the fun.
Kismet produced a video of the thirty-minute fashion show. You can watch it here.
Last weekend, we celebrated our 29th anniversary in the charming town of Los Gatos. Let me tell you, if you’re looking for a night to eat out in this community, Sunday is it.
On Saturdays, the streets fill with young people, families with strollers, and pedestrians walking dogs, but by Sunday evening, most of the shops are closed. We had a terrific time. This time last year, we were in Italy, something that’s hard to top, but we enjoyed dining at a new-to-us family-owned Italian restaurant recommended by my friend Mary.
The Italian Brothers are relatively new to the area. It’s completely staffed and operated by a family from Sicily. You can read their story on the linked website.
Mike, My favorite Italian, outside of the restaurant
After a tasty meal of Caprese, bruschetta, pasta, and dessert, we walked around the downtown area, enjoying what I’ve always loved about Los Gatos: flowers and plants in shop doorways, redwood trees in unexpected places, interesting shop windows, and sandwich boards announcing wares along the sidewalks. The town is full of charm.
We also had our first kiss over thirty years ago in Los Gatos. I remember it clearly
“Los Gatos is one of Santa Clara County’s oldest communities. In 1840, the Mexican government granted a land patent for a 6,600-acre rancho to Sebastian Peralta and Jose Hernandez. Los Gatos was originally named La Rinconada de Los Gatos (Cat’s Corner) by early settlers due to the screams of mountain lions prowling in the night. In 1868, 100 acres of the rancho was selected as a town site. The town was incorporated in 1887, and by 1890, the town’s population had grown to 1,652. When the first General Plan was adopted in 1963, the town had grown to an area of approximately 4,000 acres, or 6.3 square miles, with a population in excess of 11,750.
At the time the first General Plan was revised in 1971, the town had grown to an area of 9 square miles with a population of 24,350. In 1984, Los Gatos covered approximately 10 square miles and had a population of 27,820 persons. Today, the Town population is estimated to be 33,529 in a 14 square-mile area. While most of the growth through the 1970s was due to new development, most of the growth in the 1980s and 1990s was due to annexations, in-fill development, and changing demographics.”
It’s fun posing for pictures among the local landmarks. It’s also funny to note the imports (like the famous red telephone box designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, a well-known British architect)
and this Victorian-era house, not imported per se, but the last one standing on the boulevard.
The house was built as a home in 1891, then sold to Alexander Place, which operated a funeral home in the Queen Anne mansion until 1971.
Several restaurants followed, with some locals refusing to eat there fearing the haunted house rumours. The mansion recently reopened as “Gardenia: a French Asian fusion coffee shop and cuisine,” since I don’t believe in ghosts, we will happily give it a go.
You’ll never guess what we spotted as we made our way back to the car: Gardenia had a wine barrel along the walkway stamped Wente Brothers.
Mike and I were married at Wente Brother’s in Livermore, 29 years ago.
As the autumnal equinox approaches, I’m pining for fall colors and cooler days. October is my favorite time of year, and it’s fast approaching. Sometimes, I miss the fun we had growing pumpkins when my boys were young, but with my sons launched, not to mention back-to-back years of squash bug infestations, I’m happy to leave it to the professional growers.
Also, I’m out of room. When you love gardening, a patch of exposed earth is a planting opportunity. I’ve filled pots, borders, raised beds, and the surrounding soil with living things. Potted succulents line the deck, the back steps, and the walkway leading to our back gate. I once joked that it would be fun to buy the house behind us, remove the fence, and extend the garden. Ha! A gardener can dream.
We have a decent tomato crop for the first time in several years. I was starting to think I’d lost my gardening mojo, but the cherry tomatoes are sweet and delicious, not to mention prolific.
I spent several hours last weekend taming the garden paths from the rapidly spreading nepeta and an annual called a 4’0clock. They fill the beds quickly and spill over on the path. The nepeta is a garden darling favored by cats, birds, bees, and paper wasps.
Last weekend, I spotted a mantis near the catmint. I coaxed him onto a stick and relocated him to a higher elevation for his safety.
Earlier in the year, we hired someone to replace the sideyard walkway, a project on my list for two years. When I met with a company specializing in hardscape to discuss our needs, the sales rep lacked the imagination and flexibility to do the job, prompting me to put it on hold again. The rep said they couldn’t repurpose the flagstone but would instead break it up and haul it away, providing their own material in its place. Go figure?
Fortuitously, a handyman we know reached out looking for work, so we hired him to do the job. It looks great.
The goal for the sideyard was one of safety as much as aesthetics: the stepping stones in place were small and uneven, presenting a tripping hazard. The ground cover that grew on either side looked great in the winter but dried to a crisp under the summer sun. I missed the green, so I added a few potted plants along the new path and hung a botanical print on the gate to create a focal interest. It feels good to check this project off the list.
Most of our spring plantings have done well, but we misjudged the placement of the Hostas.
They prefer shade, and we thought they would be ok, but the excess heat early this year and the sun’s rotation exposed them to more than they could handle. We’ll dig them up next month and hope they’ll survive a transplant to a shadier spot. I’m always learning.
I’ve missed blogging these past few months. August took on a life of its own. My younger sister sustained a foot wound on her wheelchair when a caregiver smashed her exposed heel on the footrest. The wound progressed to stage 3, requiring a trip to the emergency room and a three-week stay at a skilled nursing facility. I brought her kitty home to stay with us while Sharon healed. My sister was in pain for several days, but rest and good care helped. She was able to return to her assisted living home after three weeks and continues to receive care from a visiting nurse at home.
I had an appendicitis scare the Friday after Sharon went home. My doctor ordered an abdominal CT scan due to lower right abdominal pain. She thought it was my appendix. The on-call doctor called me that evening and said they saw something on the scan (a thickening of the appendix), and he sent me to the ER to have a surgeon make the call. I spent the night at Stanford Hospital, expecting surgery in the morning.
Saturday morning the on-call surgeon took a wait-and-see perspective, and I went home on antibiotics. The findings were atypical: My white blood cell count fell in the normal range, my pain was minimal, and I wasn’t running a fever. The surgeon suggested I try the antibiotic approach, and they gave me the warning signs to look for should things get worse. They did not.
Our son Chris managed the three cats, and friends came up and brought me home the following day.
It was a scary night. Mike was still in Argentina, and I couldn’t talk to him till the following day because of the five-hour time difference. He was already asleep by the time they admitted me. He was sad to be so far away in my time of need, but it all worked out.
Good riddance to August, and hello, early autumn days.
I’ve been crafting cards again with canceled postage stamps, this time an assortment of yellow postage from China, Germany, and Poland.
The blue barbell weights on the center stamp reminded me of “eye spots,” a common butterfly marking. Two theories behind these markings exist: one is that they look like the eye of a predator, as cited in this Natural History Museum article, and the other, according to LiveScience, posits that prey is scared off by patterns that mimic toxic substances.
The spots are stunning, nonetheless, and what luck to find a postage stamp that so perfectly imitates these markings.
I cut the solid shape from the postage using a two-part butterfly die set, forming a yellow butterfly. I cut the delicate layer from thin black paper.
Using a craft paper card base, I attached the butterfly to a scrap of yellow paper and stamped the greeting in black ink. Creating this imaginary butterfly was a treat.
Photographing real butterflies takes patience and sometimes dumb luck. The following image features dumb luck for the win.
Checkerspot butterfly
A Checkerspot butterfly rested briefly in the garden, with yours truly tiptoeing behind it, holding my breath as I took the picture. I managed three shots before the butterfly moved on, and I’m sharing the best of the three.
pbmGarden catalogs and shares stunning butterfly photos as they visit her Chapel Hill, North Carolina garden. If butterflies are your thing, take a look. You won’t be dissappointed.
As hobbies go, crafting greeting cards is an easy and creative outlet. Cards can be simple or complex, depending on the mood and available supplies. I’ve been a letter-writer my whole life, so there is a practical side to making cards. I’m increasing my output by trying different styles or techniques to avoid bogging down with the same thing. I’ve watched hours of videos over time, and through them, I’ve learned techniques, but my aesthetic doesn’t quite fit the mold.
In truth, I don’t fit the mold either, and I never have. I embrace my uniqueness and carry on.
To inspire myself, I’ve been creating cards featuring a circle. Focusing on the shape allowed me to limit my choices, which I found freeing.
Here’s an interesting data point:
“The circle has been known since before the beginning of recorded history. Natural circles are common, such as the full moon or a slice of round fruit. The circle is the basis for the wheel, which, with related inventions such as gears, makes much of modern machinery possible. In mathematics, the study of the circle has helped inspire the development of geometry, astronomy, and calculus.” – source Wikipedia
Today, the circle is the basis for the following cards:
Card features two layers of vellum circles, a rub-on transfer, a repurposed folder and paper.I cut the center circle from extra-wide Washi tape, adding a sentiment and a simple background.This card features one-and-a-half circles. I love this pack of paper. I embossed the background. Technique: use a sanding block on the embossing to reveal the white paper backing.Three circles using scraps. I lined up strips on a sticky label, then cut it to shape. The larger ring is cut from the same scraps. A hummingbird rub-on transfer flies over the top.This card features three circles cut from a paper pack of botantical prints. The pale green paper is cut with a die, and the botanical print repeats behind that. Technique: inking edges for depth.
Another nice thing about this hobby: you can pass the time when it’s 105F outside. Our current heatwave has continued for twelve days with average temps 90F or above. Some of the plants are wilting and a few are showing signs of stress with burnt leaves. On the plus side, the tomatoes seem to be thriving and most of the succulents are getting by. It’s going to be a long summer.
Earlier this year, a then-anonymous reader commented on a post written over ten years ago. She found the piece about my formative years in Millbrae by searching: “Millbrae behind the tracks 1970’s.” She added the name Cindy.
I didn’t remember Cindy by name at first. We had been friends for a year before heading to different high schools. Shortly after, our family moved to Santa Clara County. After she got in touch, we wrote back and forth by email before connecting on Facebook.
Cindy shared:
“You will not believe how I came across you! I was reading a biography of Mary Martin, and I recalled watching Peter Pan on TV when I spent the night with you and your sister at your apartment in Jr. High. The neighborhood struck me. I didn’t know the area “behind the tracks.” It’s not that I was living in the high end of Millbrae by any means, but I was surprised by what I saw. So, while reading the book and remembering that evening, I thought of you.”
“While reading your article, I got chills when you mentioned a shy, freckle-faced girl at the end. I knew it! I’m so happy to find you well and happy!”
We’ve been trading memories of our brief friendship, each of us remembering small details. I remembered that she had an old cat and a new puppy. I’ve always loved animals but we weren’t allowed to have pets in our rented apartment. Visiting them at her house would have been a treat.
We attended a party on New Year’s Eve at Cindy’s house, perhaps the first of its kind my protective mother let us attend. Cindy shared a memory of a sleepover at her place when we heard a noise and she called the police. It amounted to nothing, but those sorts of memories live on. My sister Sharon, who is just a year younger, can’t remember anything from this time. I wish I could remember more.
Cindy also shared parts of her early life that I never knew, including the trauma of unfit parents, time in an orphanage, and eventually, in foster care. She had a positive experience in the orphanage, including hot meals, warm pajamas, kids to play with, and toys, none of which she had with her birth parents. By the time we met, she was living in a warm and caring environment with her foster mother, though her foster dad died when she was a young girl. That may have been what brought us together all those years ago, though any chance of capturing that memory seems elusive.
I wish the plethora of pleasant memories could bury the old ones, but they don’t. We are the product of our experiences and how we use them to maneuver through a complex world. Publishing Train Tracks of My Youth rekindled a long-forgotten friendship with a friend who survived her own trauma, and thrived.
And so it goes.
You can read the full post Train Tracks of My Youth here.
Gardening Nirvana 