stuff about artstuff.

Aaaaahhhh.

Smell that.

On a cold, damp February day here in the Pacific Northwest, that sweet, heady scent could pretty much only mean one thing. The Northwest Flower and Garden Show.  I hopped a bus downtown on Saturday and met my sister (who had hopped a ferry) for an absolutely perfect day of smelling, staring, soaking in, sharing, and all-in-all being inspired and rejuvenated.

As usual I came away with so many more ideas than I will realistically be able to incorporate into my own yard, but as usual I will try.

Each year it seems the display gardens feature more and more funky, repurposed, and recycled items - my own Granddad's quirky style has become mainstream - I often wonder what he would think of that.  He'd probably just shake his head and chuckle with that light, airy little contagious giggle he had - just imagining it makes me smile.

My very favorite thing I saw this year were these amazing fountains crafted of musical instruments and random objects.

They appeared in a booth in the marketplace and featured in display gardens.

It seems this guy shares a common artistic vision with my Granddad, shown here with his own amazing "Commotion Machine" back in the 1970s.

Another favorite funky feature I saw in multiple locations throughout the show were these little friends of mine.

I visit them (or rather, their friends and cousins?) on regular strolls through my favorite store in Seattle

and have vowed to bring home a carload of them someday to join the many other goodies that have followed me home from that place.

Found-objects-turned-art popped up over and over again, inspiring my hoarding side a little too easily.

I'm not sure if this entire "beneficial insect hotel" by Innovative Landscape Technologieswill someday appear as a stand-alone sculpture in my backyard but some of these cute little niches tucked away into fenceposts and corners do seem like a neat idea.

Other cool ideas from their garden included this neato musical deck and old picture frames used to highlight a specimen or provide support for plants.  Oh boy do I have a lot of raggedy old picture frames I could do this with...
Their garden also included a practical "rain garden" surrounding a ground drain that would sure be nicer than the old hose that currently drains my rainbarrel runoff down to the gravel alley.

I'm not sure if it this moves by wind or some kind of motor, but this "kinetic sculpture" in the WALP garden was particularly mesmerising and I have the sudden and unrealistic urge to try and build one myself

(she's right, you know - he would have).

Also in their garden: this fabulous giant rusty guitar and some nice stonework.

Cool, industrial metal parts decorated all corners, nooks and crannies

including this beautiful shape which I am guessing had been a scrap; just what was left between some real parts of some sort.

I end up with pieces of paper and cardboard all the time that suddenly become more interesting to me than the piece I had meant to cut out, and it makes me happy that someone else shares a similar appreciation for their own scraps.

Old wooden pallets have been having a great year.  They have been popping up on Pinterest as anything from clever wine storage and flat-files to narrow tiered planters (a variation of which I plan on constructing in my own yard this spring).  I even saw one in the marketplace built to the same specs as the one I saw in Apartment Therapy.  But this one, by Artistic Garden Concepts, is my new favorite use for a pallet:

Isn't this table fabulous?  The legs make it, but the pallet is cool!

Their romantic moonlit garden sat nestled under a twinkling, star-like canopy of vines and mini-lights twining through a pergola - this idea I love, too.

It set a perfect tone for the vignettes below.

 I am a real sucker for blue glass,

and they had me at "bottle tree"

but looking beyond the blue into Susan Browne Landscape Design's garden, I heard angels singing in the form of

a shed.

A magnificent little garden shed.

Just look inside.

No, really look in there.
And if that wasn't enough, later a bluegrass band played gently along right in front of it.  Awesome.

More of these fabulous little structures by Bob Bowling Rustics appeared around the show, be-still my junk-loving heart.

I could just live inside one.

I also like to think I could live inside this giant root...

...I believe Elandan Gardens may have used this amazing specimen in previous show displays, because I feel like I have photographed it before.

I'm always drawn to this kind of stuff; I can't get enough when it comes to twisty

curly

tangly

textury stuff like this.

Oh, hellow.

Fancy Plants Gardens created a magical moving "stream" with dry ice which I could have stared at all day.

All show gardens label their plants with the latin names but this was my favorite, also in their display, cute!

I'm going to have to copy this cute idea for marking plants.  I've tried it before with a sharpie but eventually the rock gets too dirty and wet to read and I lose it completely.  It appears they used a waterproof sealer on theirs.

Guess what?

Chicken butt.

Sorry.

I suppose natural forest-scapes are probably something you don't find so much in the other garden shows, but here in the woodsy Pacific Northwest we go nuts for this stuff.

I love this.

But that's not to say that we aren't all about our colorful, cultivated, magnificent and splendiferous florabundance that makes a garden show what it is.

What a great day I had.  I can't wait until spring.

Things That Make Me Smile: Vacation Edition

Dog walks every morning and afternoon are an every-day attitude adjustment around here, but on the beach, forgetaboutit.  It turns into an ear-to-ear grinning until my cheeks hurt thing.

At the beach, little things become fun events.

Some birds.
A boat.
A pattern.

The perfect latte in the morning is enough to bring a smile to my famously-grouchy-morning-lips (yes, we actually pack up the Breville and take it to the cabin) but it's even more fun when I pull a random mug from the cupboard and realize it's designed by my talented friend BJ Lantz!
Her cute beach design made me smile every morning (those who know me well will attest, this is a tall order).

And finally, 2 weeks of perfect sunsets, how can that not make someone smile?

Vacation Inspiration

Finally going through my photos from last month's amazingly restful, absolutely-perfect-in-every-way vacation at the beach, I was struck by the colors and suddenly needed to play Brenda Pinnick's fun color-palette game again (ok, maybe it's not supposed to be a game, but those of you who dig colors like I do understand exactly why I think it is).

From the subtle foggy morning shades on through that crazy-dramatic changes-every-few-seconds sunset smorgasboard of color, I'm now finding even more inspiration in my simple little shots of the beach...

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Still Here...

...sorry for the echo.

I actually do have lots I'd like to share, and will be catching up with all that soon.
Been busy as, well, this guy who I stalked long enough in the garden yesterday that he finally got fed up and rushed me (yes, I did my lovely and graceful there's-a-bee-after-me dance, ok even more impressive, my even lovelier there's-a-hornet-after-me dance with extra hopping and arm-waving).
Back soon!

Summer Dreaming in February.

During these dark, grey months,  inside where it's warm, where the lights are bright and cheerful, I can still still dream; today I'm dreaming of a long, hot, blue-green summer day accented by the refreshing coolness of  the sprinkler.  Aaahhh.

 
So, according to that adorably-soft-and-squishy-yet-always-somewhat-confused-looking Pennsylvanian rodent, spring is actually "on its way".  Little comfort, understandably, to those of you presently experiencing wind-chill-factors well below zero ... but he made his official proclamation yesterday morning, so, well, we've got that going for us (which is nice).

A Day at the Beach.

Sometimes you just need a day at the beach.
Sometimes you need to stand and stare into the surf.
Just stand
in one place
while the waves
wash
over your feet.
Like this guy.
 

Sometimes you need to watch the birds

and search for treasures in the sand.
Like this guy.
Or have fun finding tracks in the sand
like this raccoon's
or this deer's
or even the little tracks left by grass in the breeze. 

Sometimes you need to fantasize that there's no one around and you could just live in a fort.
Sometimes you just need a day at the beach.

Autumn Light and Shadows

The other day I noticed the change.

That sort of afternoon light that you only see this time of year.  Dramatic and fallish.  You know what I'm talking about.
It illuminated the hundreds of incredible spiderwebs around my yard so beautifully (although photographing just how beautifully seems to have remained just out of my reach).
Tiny spots of sunlight filtering through the trees made ordinary plants seem to glow from within.
Ordinary objects cast dramatic shadows against otherwise ordinary siding
 

and ordinary textures became extraordinary examples of light and shadow.

An ordinary garden spider was suddenly a fabulously creepy early Halloween decoration.
And well, I wouldn't exactly call her ordinary ... but Molly even appeared a little more mysterious and dramatic than usual.
 

More Flotsam & Jetsam

Just for fun, a few more bits of eye candy from the beach a couple months ago...

 
As a kid I was fascinated by monster-sized bull kelp.
 
I guess I still am.



 
Extreme tides exposed all sorts of treasures, mostly tied into knots by the waves.

 
One super-low tide exposed a magical sugar-frosted wonderland, it just sparkled in the evening sun.

There's No Place Like This Place.

 
Just another ordinary ferry ride, on another ordinary summer evening. 
We around here tend to take things like this for granted, it's just how we get to the other side. 
I grew up on the other side, and it was just how I alawys got to ... well, everything. 
A perfectly ordinary way to get somewhere. 
People do it every day, to commute; to do ordinary, mundane things and get to ordinary, mundane places. 
Every so often, though, I am lucky enough to remember how extraordinary "ordinary" things really are.



 
I've always loved the colors and textures as the seawater is churned up by the ferry engines.



 
I so dig this place I call home.

So do you remember this?

And this? 
And of course this? 
And ... well, all the rest are here.

If you do, once again: extra bonus points for paying attention.

Gosh I drew these a long time ago.  But guess what?  We're finally "refreshing the line" with some new Seattle and Puget Sound themed designs.  I am excited to get drawing on this new project after all these years, since this place is one of my favorite subjects. 

Stay tuned for more about this very soon!

Flotsam & Jetsam

Buoys, floats, barnacles, rocks.  Little offerings from the tide. 

Thanks, tide.










   

For the Birds.

 
All week the beach was full of birds.
 
Several hundred at a time would fly past in a cacophonous swarm
 
and settle in on the sandbar, at the surf line, to stand there.
Sometimes they would float on the surf 
but mostly, just stand there.
Facing the surf.
Molly tried this too, she found the standing still part quite Zen.
They were there in the fog and mist 
and (the few times it made an appearance) in the sun.
Crows joined them in the mornings 
and sandpipers would take over in the evenings.
Extremely high and low tides all week seemed to be bringing in a feast on the surf 
and a feast below the sand. 
All day, they'd just stand there
 
until the sun set 
then little by little they would lift off and fly away until the sun returned.

 
One of the little guys I made while playing with my Paperclay is now doing the same thing from the cabin window ... just staring into the surf all day long. 
Like the real gulls, he seems quite content to do so.

Another Summer Quickly Passing

Hey, look what I just found.

Just returning from vacation; my desk completely hidden under the stacks of stuff, I'm only partially through 200+ new emails in my inbox, not to mention the Volkswagon-sized pile of bags and storage tubs in the middle of the living room waiting to be unpacked, put away and/or thrown in the laundry (quite literally an elephant in the room) ... well, what do you know but I seem to have written a couple posts last month that never made it here (really, I was nearing burnout, my brain was not in the best shape ... I'm not sure why they were just sitting here but they were) so, in the spirit of "better late than never", and while I am busy catching up with the present, here is a little taste of the recent past:

Already the middle of July - how does this happen so fast? 
My little garden has always been lazier than most in the neighborhood; it tends to run about a week or two behind than the rest. While most others I see around here are nearing the end of their blooms, my daisies are just now popping open.


 
Although the season has been mostly cool and grey, one little artichoke shows promise. 
The salad garden is thriving

 
and the salads are delicious.

I wish I could just make this last longer, make the world turn more slowly and soak up more of this before it's gone.  I hope you're enjoying every little drop of summer and all it has to offer wherever you are.

Time Well Spent

After Saturday's epic all-day battle with that prolific and omnivorous ivy, Sunday was decidedly slower-paced. 
There are several more big ugly dirty projects to accomplish in the yard, but I was a little stiff and achy, and was more about dillydallying as I pulled a few weeds and trimmed stuff here and there. 
The girls enjoyed the more laid-back vibe of the day. 
They both got brushed (no, it's not a new pet, that is just a pile of their fur). 
 
The vegetables seemed to enjoy our little 2-day summer, sandwiched between all that cold, grey dampness.


 
And I finally got a chance to play with my new (well, I guess not so new any more) camera (more about this another day). 
My old tripod is currently buried somewhere in the basement, but I played around with closeups just holding it by hand, snapping away, not sure what I was actually getting. 
I was hoping to capture the super-light spray from some of the exposed holes in the soaker-hose that runs through the beds

 
and the droplets that lie suspended on spiderwebs in the grass.  This one has a dog hair in it, but then everything at my house has a dog hair in it. 
Or a cat hair. 
Or thousands of both.

I didn't even notice this when shooting the strawberries - but ew. 
Who is that creepy little guy?  No, really.  What is this?

I am fascinated by the textures in old glass. 
I could stare into these insulators all day long. 
After some weeding and trimming, I sat at the table for a while and watched stuff go on overhead.


 
After some more weeding and trimming, I laid in the grass and watched more stuff go on overhead.
 
Stuff buzzed and fluttered, and the robin stopped right above me to sing for a bit. 
Then someone told me it was time for our walk, and time to think about dinner. 
The clouds swept back in, and once again, summer in the Pacific Northwest went back to mild, grey, cool, and wet (until the last couple days!).  I'm glad I was able to take the time off to enjoy these little bits of sun in my garden, it was time well spent.

$2.17

My grandparents lived on a very large wooded lot right in the middle of town.  It was at the top of a hill and much of it was a fairly steep grade, and over the years Granddad had built terraced paths throughout the property, linking wooded gardens, picnic grounds, a horseshoe court, a rope swing, even the remains of tree-houses built for my uncle and mother when they were little. 

It was a magical place, words can't really describe it.  As did everyone else in my family who grew up anywhere between 1932 and 1998, I spent a majority of my childhood roaming the paths, entertaining myself in this wooded wonderland. 
Upkeep was constant: although both became increasingly crippled by arthritis, Granddad spent every waking hour of his retirement maintaining, cleaning, clearing, manicuring, and tinkering... 
and Granny's passion for gardening was apparent in the details. 
When we grandkids were given chores to do to help out, they were often made into some kind of game.  One of my favorites was especially for the littler kids: the fir-cone-Easter-egg-hunt.  Under 100 or so large fir trees, the paths could have easily become littered with cones - but not Granny and Granddad's paths.  Granny would send me outside with a big brown paper grocery bag, and would give me a shiny penny for every cone I picked up from the paths.  There was no cheating and reaching off-path to get a little extra cash, the challenge was to count just how many were on the actual path.

Weekend before last the temperature rose into the 70s for the first time around here since mid-September, and I was finally (sort of) caught up enough with work to take a couple days off and tend to my own little yard. 
I started Saturday by pulling weeds from the flowerbeds, 
but ended up spending most of the day reclaiming one whole side of the backyard from the ivy that annually threatens to overtake us all ("Feed me!" ).  A really lousy job, clearing ivy.  I'm sure you already know this, but I had to say it again.  Really, really lousy. 

Molly thought she was helping me with all my digging.  Um, we'll discuss that another day. 
To entertain myself while doing my own digging, pulling, and trimming, I played the fir-cone-Easter-egg-hunt game.  All day long I counted every single cone I picked up from the grass and from the mess of ivy that had once been (and soon will soon return to) grass.  There was no cheating and reaching into flowerbeds, the challenge was to count just how many were in the actual lawn-area. 

Keeping count became a Zen thing, and although sweaty, aching, and covered head to toe in bugs and dirt ... I quite enjoyed the day.  Although I get no shiny pennies for those 4 garbage cans full of ivy, I managed to collect 217 fir cones ... not too bad for a day's work. 

North Head Lighthouse

I thoroughly enjoyed visiting this beautiful old piece of Washington State history last month.

Although aged architecture in decay makes for a neato artsy photo-op, it's not necessarily the respect that should be shown to our historical monuments.

There is a wonderful group, "Keepers of the North Head Light", who are working toward properly restoring the old beauty.

You can see some of the masonry work already done by students from the Historic Preservation Field School at the University of Oregon.

I'm not sure exactly why, but I seemed to have gotten giddy enough while there that I forgot some very basic and vital information about myself. I have extreme acrophobia. Like, standing-on-a-chair-is-too-high-phobia. But caught in some sort of moment - most likely I was out of my mind from the tsunami-advisory-excitement of the day - I seemed to be determined to go up inside and see it for myself.
Halfway up the first flight of stairs, it struck me, "holy crap girl, just what do you think you are doing?"

Those of you who know me well, feel free to answer aloud, in unison:

What is the one thing in the world I hate more than anything else?

"Stairs you can see through."

And what else?

"Stairs with no railings."

Thank you.

Once started, though, I couldn't exactly back down on my hands and knees (you think I'm joking?) and ask for my donation back. I'm sorry, I've changed my mind. I don't really care about your dumb old lighthouse any more. I'm going home now. So I looked up and kept going.
It was worth it. Really cool.

I hesitated for only a second looking at the stairs below, realizing I pretty much had no other choice but to take a deep breath and step down

but that's the only good thing about stairs-that-you-can-see-through - you can see-through much less going back down. And even better, point-and-shoot digital cameras can be held out from one's body while one is firmly pasted to the wall (look at me, I'm wallpaper. I dare you to peel me away). I had no idea what these next 2 shots looked like until I was back down on level ground.

If you're in Southern Washington it's worth a visit, and the folks who are organizing the fundraising/restoration efforts are super nice and are passionate about what they're doing. For more info about their organization or to find out about making a tax-deductible donation, you can contact:

The Keepers of the North Head Lighthouse

PO Box K, Ilwaco, WA 98624

or email them at KeepersOfNorthHead@gmail.com

Garden Inspiration

Last month was the triumphant return of the Northwest Flower & Garden Show. I am not being silly and dramatic here, it was pretty triumphant after not knowing if we'd ever have one again for most of last year.

I spent a glorious day with my 2 sisters soaking in every single thing we could ... it was a blast. It was a little smaller this year, but that only made it easier to cover the whole thing in a day without killing ourselves.

There were the usual dramatic textures,

 

Elandan Gardens

gorgeous water features,

Plantswoman Design

serene and inviting settings,

Pacific Stone Company

Ravenna Gardens

and heavenly scents (so welcome in early February!).

But there also seemed to be a little more playful whimsy in the display gardens than usual.

One of my favorites, by Fancy Fronds and Albe Rustics, was full of cool stuff I just want to junk up my own garden with! There were monsters popping up right out of the ground. Can you see his snout, shrimp-eyes, and further back ... wings?!

Maybe if Dune had taken place somewhere more cuddly and Seussian...

I love the glass fiddleheads...

and how cool are these metal ferns?

Even the pavers became a splash of color.

There's No Place Like Home by WSNLA, Partners for Water and Innovative Landscape Technologies was complete with a flying monkey (I love me some flying monkeys)

and they cleverly landed the entire display on top of the Wicked Witch (ding dong).

And to top it off, the frieze along the green roof reminded me that my favorite quote really needs to be somewhere in my own backyard ... hmmm. I'll work on this...
All the displays incorporated sustainable themes: there were green roofs on almost every structure and I noticed several really clever treatments for rain-barrels - the design dilemma faced by so many of us who want to conserve water but hate that giant plastic glob taking up all that space - my favorite was in the Seattle Tilth and NW Bloom display. Not to mention the way cool blue-bottle downspout, I so want to do this!

And the giant colored-pencil obelisk-trellises (or bean-teepees, depending on where you're from)...

...extras just sat in a giant pencil cup by the door. Suddenly, in spite of the hundreds on my desk, there are not enough colored pencils in my life: I must make giant ones to sit in a giant cup in my yard. Ohmygosh.

They had me at the rain-barrel. And the giant pencils. And the lime green cold-frame. But this display also had chickens and little goats. Look, you get me in the vicinity of little farm animals and I'm suddenly 5 years old again. I want to pet them. Mom can I have a chicken? Please? Why not? I want a little goat then. Please? Please? I want to bring him home. Why can't I bring him home?

And finally, this:

Crops for Clunkers ... a small pickup decked out as an amazing edible garden, by Seattle Urban Farm Co. A-flipping-mazing, this thing!

And the cab had been refitted as a chicken coop.

Yes, that blob on the left there is a big fat chicken butt. How awesome is this? I was in love. This is a scary thing for someone like me to see, as I tend to get a little too attached to my own old cars and have actually threatened to turn them into planters when that sad day does come.

Don't worry, frightened neighbors, I probably won't.

The day really was inspiring and fun and time with my sisters is always a blast.

(obligitory view-from-the-convention-center photo alert)

But all that was back in February, and here it is already the second half of March, time to get moving on the for-real garden! Kicking it off, this weekend here in Seattle is the Seattle Tilth Early Spring Edible Plant Sale. Tilth's plant sales are great ... it's the place to get your healthy, hearty little organic heirloom (and other interesting varieties) starts for your edible garden as well as other goodies, you can even stock up on Cedar Grove Compost for only $5 a bag! This is the first year they've added the early sale to their usual May event.

I'm expanding the vegetable/sunny-garden beds again this year ... I had meant to get this done over the winter but since this pile of wonderful rocks showed up on a soggy morning last November
all I managed to do was stack them neatly between the existing beds and the parking area
and at the end of that day,

I was pretty much through with rocks for ... well, apparently for 4 months. I finally started bed-building this afternoon, and the good news is that after all the digging I still seem to have internet service and a telephone this evening (remember last year?) so I'm off to a smokin' start.

This weekend, I'm ready - it's garden time, and I'm excited! Especially when I saw this tonight...
Whoo hoo! 68?!

Hope you all have a great weekend too!

The Wave that Wasn't

It was our last full day out at the coast, and after a very busy week, I was looking forward to a quiet day with no plans ... my art supplies were spread around me on the table, and I was sipping the last of my morning coffee going back and forth between drawing and just watching the rain outside.

That came to a screeching halt with a knock on the door, word about the tragedy in Chile, and a warming that there had been a tsunami advisory for the coast.  The beaches were closed (the much anticipated clamming weekend was canceled until further notice) and although there wasn't an official evacuation in place, many were packing up and heading inland.  Although they were only predicting 2-4 foot swells where we were, that seemed significant enough for concern sitting beach-side, right at sea level on a 28 mile peninsula sticking out into the ocean.  Looking out into the surf, or what you could see through the mist, it was easy to imagine the unknown dangers lurking beyond. 
We scurried around between the television news coverage, worrying about friends and loved ones in Hawaii and Guam, starting to pack, then deciding not to leave ... finally settling on packing up "a little bit" (we would be leaving the next day, anyway) putting some stuff up on tables or shelves "just in case" and heading to higher ground for a few hours.  We decided to make our final decision after reports started coming in from the more southerly beaches.

For us, "higher ground" was a place we'd been talking about visiting anyway ... just maybe at a little more leisure.

There seemed to be a little more traffic than usual, everyone was out doing something: heading to the north end of the peninsula where there were a few hills, heading south to go back inland, or chuckling at those who were doing so from a beer-drinking bonfire party along the highway.

The sun was back out as we arrived at our destination, and we were greeted by cheerful blooms along the path. 
Heading along the trail we'd get ever increasing glimpses of the dramatic ocean below.




 
It seemed a lot of other people had the same idea as we had...
There's just something about lighthouses. 
The symbol of safety, protection; 
looking down from a lighthouse one is easily reminded what could happen to ships if it wasn't here, guiding them away from the rocks.


 
I have much more to share with you about this particular lighthouse, North Head Light - but that will have to wait for another post. 
For now, well, you already know how this story ends.  After a while, reports started coming in that Hawaii had "dodged a bullet"; folks headed back down the trail to their cars, and eager clammers were already gathering on the beach below.
Although there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief upon hearing that the Pacific was no longer in immediate danger, I can't say the mood actually lightened, as the fact remained that earlier that morning, hundreds of Chileans had lost their lives, and it was indeed a sad day.

Is the Ocean Made of Diamonds or Glass?

More from my February visit to the coast.

On one afternoon walk, I was convinced it was diamonds.


 
Or was it glass?

 
I suppose it is just made of ocean.

The Ocean in February.

Anyone who knows me knows about my thing with the ocean. I'm all about the ocean.

But I have a special thing about the ocean in February.

Most folks wouldn't consider outdoor activities involving the beach this time of year, at least this far north ... but there's a special place in my heart for Pacific Northwest beaches during this particular month.

It all started in 1972. We were planning a little family outing, a long weekend at the cabin over Presidents' Day. Mom said, "we're going to have to make sure and pack lots of warm clothes. I am sure it will be cold and rainy the whole time we're there." but I had a pretty good feeling otherwise. Maybe this was just because I was a kid, and kids aren't very practical. But I felt strongly about it. I said, "I bet you it will be nice!" and then my kid brain went into bargaining mode: "I bet you a pair of clogs that it will be sunny and nice the whole time."

I had been longing for a pair of clogs for so long. Cool wedgie-heeled slip-ons - all the fashionable girls had them. Mom was not too keen on the style, and had been answering my pleas with a firm "No!" for quite some time. Looking back, I can't say I blame her. Allowing her clumsy and cross-eyed little child to leave the house in shoes with a heel (even a tiny one) and no secure straps or laces? It hadn't even been 2 full years since I had spontaneously tumbled down the driveway jamming my front tooth clean through my lower lip, and that was in flat Mary Janes strapped on tight. Heaven only knew what kind of damage could be done in floppy little clogs.

But she smiled, agreed to my "bet"...

The sun shone on the beach that Presidents' Day weekend, as it shone on my wishes for fabulous new shoes.

That next week I got my dream clogs: soft crinkly leather, cork wedgie-heels, and blue as the sun shining on the Pacific ocean in February.

Among other dumb things about 2009, it ended up being a particularly ocean-free year for me. That was totally lame, but instead of dwelling on the past, I'm happy to move forward and soak in all that this happier new year has to offer.

Off to a pretty good start, ocean-wise and fabulous-shoe-wise (really) and I haven't tumbled down one single driveway.

There's One Every Year.

Tomato with a face, that is.

I had wondered in the last month or so if this would be the year - the year there was no face in the garden. A little upsetting, I must admit. But today while wrapping the last few green ones plucked from the icy grips (alright maybe not quite icy yet but wet and miserable for a tomato) of November's rain and hail storms to ripen inside, I finally found him. Quite adorable, I must say. Tomatoes can have the cutest faces.

So now I feel complete somehow; satisfied with the harvest ... and I will be savoring these last few juicy tidbits as they ripen, before cardboard-tomato-season begins again (sigh).