Irene!

My sister, Irene, from Vashon, Washington, has been visiting me for the last few days here at the ranch. Irene is a known artist and tile maker. She's supported her family with the tile business for many years. There must be thousands of people and businesses who have Irene's tiles for their backsplashes and swimming pools and libraries and companies. I feel artistically humble in her presence.
We are having a tradition, a few years old, of the two of us coming together in my Florida studio for several intense days of making art. We just feed on each other's minds. We don't know what will happen. Often, we collaborate, and we share our best. I have every sort of art supplies and fabric to use. Sometimes we make quilts on the wild side, we sometimes make purses, and sometimes we paint. We have never made ceramic things, though that is what we really do best. Our creative sisterhood seems to be about making stuff we don't ordinarily do. My sister, the professonal, never diminshes me for my artistic dillentantism.
Irene and I are 'can do' women, especially in crafts. We got it from our mother. We can sew, quilt, weave, paint, knit. We are always extending anything we try. And we love to do it!
Irene has spent the few days she was here painting a floor cloth, larger than this photo. In about ten minutes she had the canvass measured and hemmed, and was ready to paint. We only had to make one trip to get more paint, no worries, and then the days were spent in the early mornings taking long walks and swimming, and then-back to the studio to work on "The Project".
All the while we talked non-stop about us, our family, politics, and the incredible wild world outside the studio. Irene worked on this floor cloth painting and I made preliminary drawings for an oil pastel painting and made forays to tend to ranch maintenance. Sometimes I would creep back to my computer to work on a writing project.
One night when we were working in the studio we got to thinking about a family scandal (recently, my first cousin was indicted for murder), and we started looking up everything about this on line, then moved on to looking up many other relatives. We decided that we should write a book called "Skeletons!" about this amazingly weird southern family. But, then, aren't all families weird?
I am looking at the finished floor cloth. It amazes me! I have witnessed the facile creativity, the sense of fun and vacation.

Early summer

The Cabbages are about gone and the tomatoes are ripening , though I have to pick off the stinkbugs every day. It is the start of rainy season and I will have a breather on the gardens not having to be watered every day. It is too hot even at night for more tomatoes to set fruit.

It is glorious and cool here in the mornings. We walk the mile to the mailbox where we pick up the three daily newspapers. Most days Lola, our mini daschshund walks with us, looking totally funny flopping along behind us. We sometimes see wild pigs or sand hill cranes. I am realizing more and more that this place here in the middle of nowhere is truly home. And I am more happy than anyone has a right to be.

For the last few days our daughter and her three year old son, Quincy, have been visiting. Quincy is really interested in this place he calls The Farm. He loves coming down to the barn where he climbs up to pretend drive the tractor. He opens the little tool box on the side and gets out various implements to "fix" things. Sometimes we swim in the pool or go out to the Pine Island field to pick blackberries. Last night we had enough berries to make ice cream.

I love having him here. He accompanies me on errands. Today we went to pick up a quilt from my collaborator and then we stopped at Farmer's Feed to inspect the baby chickens, turkeys and rabbits, always a fun Saturday thing. I bought a few hot weather plants- eggplants, okra and sweet million tomatoes-to fill in spots in the garden.

I am loving beyond imagining this life I have. At the moment I am aware that I have not surfaced from down in my studio for hours. This room of my own is my place for ideas and creativity. I have been working on my book today, and I have finished binding the best quilt I have ever made. I still have 'hostess syndrome' as my best friend Marie calls it. I am always trying to make sure that people in my area are having a good time. But sometimes, like tonight, I feel somewhat o.k. to hunker down and do exactly what I want to do. As I have said to my daughter, I have deficits to address after all these years.

This morning while I was cleaning up after breakfast, our daughter was playing the piano for Quincy. When she was in high school she played all the time and I loved hearing that music. As I took out the compost today I heard the Canon in D and it made me feel that all was right with the world and I looked up at the morning glories splayed over the fence and I rejoiced.

Tomorrow is Fathers' Day. The Dad in this house is stellar! He's the main cook who will address any dietary needs, he has been an incredible bringer of the bacon, he loves his kids, he's fun and handsome, and he's always thoughtful and interesting. He's not MY father but I salute him as he best dad in the world.