FAR OUT

The only thing 'my old man" had when I met him, were these old rock posters from the 1960's. As his 'old lady' (and I really am now), this was the year that I finally had them framed. Only 40 years after the fact. These concerts were held in San Francisco at the Avalon Ballroom - a big deal in its day. Big Brother and the Holding Company held many concerts there and was the group that played with Janis Joplin before she went out on her own. Some others were Jefferson Airplane, the Greatful Dead, Canned Heat, among other big names of the day. I'm feeling a little politically incorrect tonight. Back then, my old man and I were hippies. Do any of you remember the 60's? It is said if you remember the 60's, you weren't there...Boy, how things have changed.

Woodstock was more than a concert: it was a movement toward a new America (or so they said). We burned our bras. Brought about the end to the horrible Vietnam war. New words were coined by the Woodstock generation; far out, peace, out of sight, wigged out, munchies, doobies, trippin', truckin', orange sunshine... It really was a new age.

The Stones were my favorite band. Liked the Doors too. They said the 60's died after the Stone's concert at Altamont, when Hell's Angels, protecting the stage, killed a concertgoer; an end to the hippie Woodstock generation and their mantra, peace and love. Those days were long ago and far away. A toast to all of us that made it out alive. Like the words from the Greatful Dead song said, "what a long, strange trip its been."

LUCK OF THE IRISH

Though not a shamrock, this four leaf clover deserves a wish today. "A wish is a prayer," the old saying goes. So, may the wind always be at your back, may the road rise to meet you, always take the high road (I think that's Scottish, oh well), and may the luck of the Irish be with you. I don't know much about Irish, but in their honor, I think I'll make an Irish Soda Bread today.

Fun At The Farm

Bella came down for a fun day at Nonna and Poppa T.'s farm. She is fearless and hung on to the eggs she gathered. Odette the horse, enjoyed carrots and the chickens and geese got bread. Bella wanted to take the bread out to them. Baby brother Oliver is too little to enjoy the outdoor fun, but just wait a few more months.

Vintage Madonna Print

Isn't this a pretty interpretation of the Madonna? A young woman seated with a book; a small village past her in the distance. The period of her clothing, seated on a rag or hooked rug, is reminiscent to me of a pioneer Madonna. This print was originally painted by a German artist so I guess maybe her clothes are from the time it was painted in Germany. Just thought you'd like to see it. It is different. It's for sale in my etsy shop. I might like to keep it but for the need in this period of my life to simplify, clean out, I'm not sure, whatever.

Things That Go Boomp

This mantis is praying before his meal. Mantis's, Mantii? I don't know the plural. These insects kind of creep me out; I am sure they can rotate their head more than 180 degrees while their body remains perfectly still. In fact, the only time you see them move is when they are spinning their head or slowly climbing. They don't scare easily, but they can sure fly (as long as it's not at me). Kind of pretty. Reminds me of the old Irish ditty or blessing.

From the gillies and the ghosties,

to the long-legged beasties,

and things that go bump in the night...

A Prayer For Maria

One of my blogging friends, Maria Xi, is a teacher who lives in Santiago, Chile. She was supposed to go into the hospital today, the day of the earthquake, to deliver her first baby, Ines. She was going to be induced. Let's all ask that she and her baby girl and family will be safe and comforted.

Spring, Sprang, Sprung

There is one thing I do with my eggs - egg vases. These are last years wild jonquils which are now up but have yet to open. You can also use them for seedling starters. Just rinse and fill with peat moss and seeds and keep wet till they sprout. Also, prick a hole in the bottom of the egg so you won't get dampening off (the sprouts will shrivel up and die from too much water). Leave them sitting in the carton for easier handling. Carefully crush shell for planting; good source of calcium for the plant.

Mmmmm Snails

Just pretend there is a snail pie in there somewhere. In jolly old England, the hodmandod was a shell snail: I guess as opposed to a slug. Popular with aristocrats and paupers alike, the snail in a shell was a popular foodstuff. In Cornwall, there was a popular dance called the Snail's Creep and Cornish miners considered snails lucky - wished upon them. Recipes included "ragout of fatted snail" and I guess it tastes like chicken since one was called "chickens not two hours from the shell." Here is one recipe from the 1600's:

With our sharp weapons we shal thee fray
And take the castill that thou liest in;
And in a dish, with onyons and peper,
We shall thee dresse with strong vynegars.

P S ~ I'm sure I would love them if I had eaten them growing up. I do love seafood even though reared a landlubber, but I won't be eating any sea urchin eggs, or whale or dolphin, or swordfish, nor sharkfin soup.....Just don't want to insult any of my dear tens of followers. The part I love the best is the olde recipe which actually sounds like a snail salad. Crrrunch!

EGGS

The incredible, edible egg. A report this week called them wonder food for our aging bodies. Though snow is still aground in the shadows and the goldfish pond is covered in ice, I gather more eggs than I know what to do with. If I bake, I want to eat it all. I did sell a few dozen, but they are not organic. The feed the chickens eat has to be organic and that would cost a fortune. The yolks are a deep orange though and I like to think they are healthier than the pale lemony yellow ones from the store. Always buy cage free or free range. The others are cruelly raised.

A River Runs Through It Redux

I forgot to include this Woolybooger in my previous post. This is an old fly fishing lure I have and it's a woolybooger. Made from red hairs underneath a deer tail, my guess is that is resembles a bug of some sort. This girl grew up catching fish at the lake or the ocean. I have never fly fished. It looks like too much work and too cold. I'd rather play around in the water and watch my cork. I do love to fish though. Following is the Wordsworth piece I loved so much from Ode: Intimations on Immortality.

What though the radiance which was once so bright, be taken now forever from our sight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,
we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
What having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death and in the years that bring the philosophic mind.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, thanks to its tenderness, its joy, and fears.
To me the meanest (smallest) flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

A River Runs Through It

I was blown away by this movie for some reason. This scene in particular moved me beyond words. Brad Pitt is my favorite actor and did not disappoint in this movie. And yet, this is the scene I remember to this day. The quoting of Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations on Immortality (Don't quote me on the title, I can't find my notes) between father and son just blew me away. Subsequently, I memorized Wordworth's ODE and it was the first time I realized how old I had gotten. In earlier times I could memorize anything; I've even been asked if I have a photographic memory (no). It took me a long time to memorize this work, I shall not say more. Since then, I have memorized more works. The Road Not Taken by Frost, more Wordsworth, C.S. Lewis... Anyway, this movie is worth a watch again if you haven't seen it in a while.

NATIVE AMERICAN COLLECTIBLES

As I told you, I have always kept my Native Americana in as much as I would sell anything else for the right price. This possible bag is Plains Indian, probably southern, and I think Apache. The bead work is lightening and a raincloud. This is just what I remember from researching, but it has been so long ago, I'd love to hear from someone elses' knowledge about it.

A few beaded items. Notice the watch fob with the red, white and blue flag. Also, necklaces, most of it plains and done for the tourist trade after relocation.

Whoops, I'm not sure how this happened.

These are interesting in that I haven't seen them before. They are probably Muscogee Creek nation and I don't know the name of them, but they were made from clay and decorated by each owner. That is how they told their thingamajigs apart. They were placed over a long piece of wood and rubbed up and down to shape their arrows.

This is a teeny hand sewn doll about an inch in length.

The three dolls on the left are plains and the one on the right is southwest, probably Navajo for the tourist trade. The bone on the left has been broken off something. There is wood in the middle of it. I think it is a game piece of some kind. Notice the white plains doll with beaded necklace and belt and the Navajo doll's squash blossom necklace. The plains doll on the left has horse hair, the white one has some kind of heavy thread and the Navajo has real hair. I'll show you some Native American jewelry in another post.

PASSING

I just recently learned of the passing of a beloved artist and writer. Stephen Huneck died on January 7th of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He had been depressed and despondent; he feared he might lose his mountaintop farm home and studios, dubbed Dog Mountain, over the recent economic downturn. The Dog Chapel, which has been featured in many publications, was built to honor his own Sally, a Labrador. Inside the chapel, visitors have left notes and pictures of their own beloved pets.

I guess I am surprised by his passing and sad. One would think that by 60 years of age, you'd finally have it down enough that you wouldn't resort to killing yourself over life's disappointments. I guess not. The reality is, depression is lethal sometimes. Stephen's art and contributions will be missed.

A HORSE IS A HORSE

A horse is a horse, unless it's a Choctaw or Cherokee horse. Only 200 horses of these strains remain. Half a millennium ago, Spanish conquistadors brought horses to North America. Horses had been extinct in North America for 10,000 years. After the Spaniards began establishing colonies, they banned the native peoples from owning and even riding horses. That would have been the end of story, except many of the horses escaped into the wild where Indians found and tamed them. The rest is history but for the new challenge: surviving in the modern world.

In steps the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy (ALBC). For centuries, the Spanish Colonial horses were the most common type of horse throughout the Southeast and regions west of the Mississippi. But in the mid-late 1800's, almost all Spanish stocks were crossbred with or replaced by horses like thoroughbreds, riding horses and draft horses. The Spanish Colonial horse was nearly extinct by 1950. ALBC advisor, Phillip Sponenberg, DVM, has researched and written extensively about both the Choctaw and Cherokee strains. "Besides being an important part of American history, their genes are irreplaceable. Red Road Farm in Morrisville, VT, has a Choctaw horse breeding program and a horse sponsorship program. The ALBC, in Pittsboro, NC has info and the Southwest Spanish Mustang Assoc. has extensive info on the breed.

And, this beautiful specimen, whinnies and comes running to my back fence whenever she sees me outside. No, she's not mine, but I feed her carrots, oats and apples.

PSSST

We've had temperatures in the 60's for the last few days, thank you Lord, and guess what I've been hearing at the farm? Yes, peepers. The cats even brought a one inch specimen in my kitchen yesterday. Also, a bee was buzzing me in the flower beds. I think Mother Nature is telling the creatures to get busy, gather, spring is coming. Yahoo!

HAIKU CHICKEN

The small gray rooster
Claims the red hen for himself
Cluck, clucking, clucked.


This guy's a whopper - at least 2' tall, a long and lean Araucana. This is the breed that lays colored eggs.

Big, fat Barred Rock boy. He'll be runnin' the show before long.

The first time out of the pen. The little gray rooster is hardly bigger than a robin. I think he's my favorite. I dare not name him or the coyotes or barn cats will eat him.

And all from these teeny chicks I bought last fall. Got my first eggs this week. Oh no! Means I have to clean out the chicken house (the worst job in my world).

EGGS

When I was small, I had a thing for bird's nests and their little eggs. Curious wild child that I was, I roamed the countryside, climbing into treetops as far as the tree limbs would allow me. Why was I so enamored of eggs? I don't know. As you can see, I still am. Clockwise from left, an ostrich egg, an emu, goose, chicken, banty chicken, quail, and in my sculpted hand, three little eggs I found on the ground and don't know the breed. I also collect nests I find here and there, but only after they have been abandoned.

BASSACKWARDS

You know that old saw about not getting kids or animals to cooperate....

Well, this guy was definitely bent over, shakin' a tail feather, at the barn. He finally decided to cooperate.

NATIVE AMERICAN MEDICINE BAG

During my 'treasure hunts', I come across many things that speak to me one way or another. This is a native American medicine bag, used much like a Christian sacrament, as a symbol or token. Once a brilliant blue, the silk has faded over the years. It is tied with deer hide. Of course I had to peek inside. Pandora had nothing on me. Anyway, it contains plant materials; nothing I could make out as to what the plants were though I did discern a dried up flower in the mix.

I had a friend once whose step-father was a full-blood Choctaw Indian. Marla said he was always making bags and tokens and stashing them places like under the couch cushions, the bed, etc. He supposedly would pull hair from her hairbrush and wrap it around a bone. She wasn't sure what else he would do, but she thought he made the bags to keep them healthy. In OK, we have hot, dry summers and Marla said she had seen him down on his knees in a dry creek bed. He would cup dirt in his raised hands, chanting. He said it would rain. It usually did.

MOCCASINS

Of all the antiques and collectibles I've bought and sold over the years, the Native American ones are the only things I never parted with. I don't know why. I guess maybe because of the historical factor and the fact that there are finite numbers of the old stuff. I have stacks of books covering Native Americana and I'm embarrassed to say, its been too long since I have read them because I can't remember anything about these moccasins. The bead work designs, the beads themselves, colors of beads, style of moccasins, what the moccasins are made of and stitches etc. are all ways to discern the area and tribe they came from. The top ones are women's moccasins. Believe it or not, the women made all the clothes and yet, menswear and children's clothing are worth the most. The top moccasins are from the Arapaho tribe.

The rest of the moccasins are either children's or baby moccasins. They also are all Plains tribes.

Though older, early moccasins wouldn't have used colored leather. They did use natural dyes and dyed porcupine quill work was used by the tribes in the Northeastern U.S.

The bottoms of these are made of parfleche (brain tanned deer hide) and are sinew sewn. Moccasins from the northeastern U.S. were made from moose hide and smell smoky from the tanning process.

These baby mocs were from Kansas and are older (early 20th century) and made for the souvenir trade. If the moccasins were beaded all over (on the bottoms too) they were burial moccasins.

A NEW YEAR

One thing I know for certain, about the coming new year, is that the sun will warm the earth once again around here. My sunflowers will be back [facing east in the morning and west every eve],

doing what sunflowers do; growing till ready to make seed for the birds and then starting the cycle all over again...

Happy new year, full of peace, for what must ever be.