I didn't publish last week, as you perhaps noticed: it seems to me that every now and again I either have nearly nothing new to tell you and thus struggle to come up with the substance of a post, or life suddenly accelerates and I have lots to tell you and no time in which to write it all down. Last week at this time, I was in the first scenario; this week I'm in the second. So here goes!
One noteworthy event from last weekend was the weather. Spring had been proceeding, warmly and sweetly for the most part, until the Saturday morning that we woke up to this.
Surprise! Very beautiful, but not exactly inspiring for those of us yearning for spring. Or for the poor birds, who'd moved into the yard and were very busy with nests and territorial squabbles and looking for food. Fortunately, the snow had melted off by the end of the day.
The day before, we'd trekked off to Grand Forks to have a look at the Boundary and District Arts Council annual open-call unjuried show. We enjoy this show, not least because every now and again someone pops up whom we know in another context entirely and we're happily surprised to find out that this person is an artist. This phenomenon has happened in reverse quite often: people are now used to the fact that my dear husband is a painter, but for many years people often approached him with amazement saying, "I had no idea you were a painter! I thought you were just a logger!" It still happens occasionally. And it's fun to go about one's daily business and bump into people who say, "Hey! I saw your quilt or (painting) at the Gallery!" It's a confidence-building consequence of small-town life.
I had only one entry, alas, because I'd sent almost everything I had to the quilt show the previous weekend and my grand plans for quilting and finishing my best unfinished quilt top were scuppered by not having left myself enough time to get it done. But I was very happy with the spot the gallery staff chose for hanging my single entry, the quilt I call Balcony Windows. I had the left hand bay beside the entrance to the main gallery, a place where the quilt showed to excellent advantage and where people were sure to see it. Thank you, Gallery 2!
My dear husband's paintings looked well too, I thought. Except for the fact that this poor fish is on a hook, I love this painting: the loose brushstrokes and the movement of the water I find very satisfying.
This one doesn't grab me as thoroughly because it doesn't have the same variety of hue and value, but it does remind me of happy huckleberry picking trips because we pass these bluffs on our way up into the mountains to our favourite berry-picking site.
If you're interested in seeing more of my dh's paintings, you can view his online gallery at the Oliver Art Gallery site, or visit the gallery in person. He's the featured artist for May.
And here's another happy moment from the week before last. I was having a pleasant time browsing through blogland when I stumbled across a Canadian knitting blog that I hadn't visited for quite a while: yarnharlot.ca, the online home of knitter Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. The sheer energy emanating from her page is inspiring, and she has a wicked sense of humour that I thoroughly enjoy. (Which is why she keeps winning blog awards and has several published books to her credit.) What caught my eye this time, however, was a sidebar button titled "Knitters without Borders" (or use this link). I had to investigate that, and it turned out to be Stephanie's campaign to support Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders), the international organization that sends medical teams into combat and disaster zones. I've always thought that MSF was a magnificent organization and admired all of the staff, medical and otherwise, who give their time and often risk their lives and safety to help people who would otherwise suffer a great deal more than they already do. Steph's plan is to ask readers of her blog to do without something or other (perhaps yarn) during the course of a week or so, and to donate the money they have saved by deciding to do without whatever it is to MSF instead. As she says, if we can afford yarn, we can afford to support MSF. Well, I hadn't bought any yarn the previous week, or even contemplated doing so, but I HAD bought fabric. And I agree with her: if I can afford fabric, I can afford to support MSF. Steph makes it easy: click on the button on her blog page devoted to Knitters without Borders and you're sent right to the donation page for MSF. Her goal is $2 million CAD. Astoundingly, she's more than halfway to that goal. So if you're inspired to help out too, make your donation and then write to her at the email address she gives on the KWB page and let her know the sum you donated so that she can add it to the total. Thanks. The earthquake in Nepal is only the latest in a long list of events that have created a huge need for the aid of MSF.
Why did this small act make me happy? I was having a bit of an existential crisis, feeling as though I'm not moving forward in the key areas of my life. A slightly more than mid-life reassessment of where I am, perhaps. Fatigue and lack of exercise due to my lingering ankle sprain probably had a lot to do with it. I'm not in principle opposed to a sweeping reassessment of life in general, even though it's a very uncomfortable place to be. Sending a bit of money along to MSF struck me as an unequivocally good thing to do, and reading around in the MSF website helped put my self-doubt and monkey-brain chatter into perspective. A bit like finally poking one's head up above the swamp water and taking a good deep breath. Okay, I'm off my charity rant now. And just in case you're in any danger of thinking I'm an admirable person, let me disclose here that the amount I gave to MSF was less than what I'd spent on fabric. And I'm evolved enough to know all the arguments about how human nature tends toward philanthropy in order to make ourselves feel better. Regardless: MSF needs the money. And so do a lot of other worthwhile organizations, so if MSF doesn't rock your boat, choose something else and hand over a bit of cash, if you can. Please. And if you're the kind of person who does this kind of thing as a matter of course, my thanks and admiration, whatever your recipient of choice.
On a lighter note, here's another happy moment that I happened to see out of the corner of my eye as I glanced out the kitchen window. Let it not be said that interspecies affection isn't real. I've mentioned before that Django is the best thing that ever happened to Winston, who lost his litter mate and best buddy to a coyote many years ago. Winston often trails around after Django, and clearly it was Winston's idea that the two of them commune like this on the lawn. But I think the affection is mutual, don't you?
This dog loves his family, that's for sure. Isn't this a face to catch at your heart? This is what he looked like at the beginning of the annual shearing season: I got from his nose as far down as his collar.
Good boy!
Those last four photos are a hoot. Ever thought of making up a Django calendar? You must have at least 12 photos featuring him. If not, take a few more!
We're so pleased your one quilt a great one, and a favorite in this household) was so well displayed, and what dh did with the fish is really impressive. Water is so hard, and he aced it.
Love, Dad
Posted by: geoff wilkins | 05/05/2015 at 05:29 PM
Thanks, Dad!! I'll pass along your praise of the dh's treatment of water in his fish painting. He was saying just last night that he thinks that water is becoming a recurrent theme in his work and therefore perhaps something to focus on even more. And I'll tell Django that you think he's calendar-worthy. I do indeed have many photographs of the woolly boy and will have some more for next week's post: he's had most of his spring haircut and therefore looks even more photogenic than usual.
Posted by: Anne at Shintangle Studio | 05/06/2015 at 11:40 AM