Who knew that starlings line their nests with scented flowers and herbs like marigolds, and I guess basil, too, because all of the marigolds and basil you see in this picture are gone, decimated by the beaks of starlings. I even watched out the window as a starling broke off the marigold head and flew away with the flower in its mouth. Steve was okay with it until they started harvesting the basil as well. I think the problem is that the raised bed is right next to a bird feeding station. And while I remember planting marigolds last year I think it was later in the spring and there was no feeding station and maybe nesting season was done. I don’t know. We’ll see what the rest of the spring holds. Meanwhile I AM pleased about the herbs “hidden” on the side of the house doing well.
It is a bird feeder that feeds a community … black, brown and gray squirrels, mourning doves, sparrows, grackles, starlings, a mating pair of cardinals and I’ve even seen a blue jay hovering about. All bigger than this little fellow who patiently waits in the branches of the neighbor’s tall tree and waits for its moment to feed.
When Steve tapered the legs of the dining room table he made by hand this pandemic season … I gardened, he made furniture … these pieces of wood were left behind. Now he told me about these pieces before I actually saw them and said, “I can turn them into a fan for you to do something with. I just need to get the right bolt.” “You mean like a Japanese fan?” He shrugged. “Yeah, more or less.” And I exclaimed with glee, “Yes, make that and we’ll hang it on the wall.”
Given that I don’t work with wood yet and he can’t read my mind yet, we each merrily traveled down a mental path completely unaware that we were not on the same page. He made the fan, 9 pieces bolted together and because of the nature of the design they have to hang down and not up as I had imagined in my head. And while I thought it was a totally him piece … his creation … he seemed stuck on this idea of collaboration. Well, I do declare. “You can stain it like you did the table,” I said. He nodded slowly then said, “But I think a watercolor wash might be better. That’s just me.” And for an eternity … actually only a few moments … we went back and forth. Finally I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Okay, mister, I’ve got some watercolors somewhere. What’s your vision?” He shrugged. “I don’t have one. You’re the artist.” He walked away as I semi-glared.
And then I began to play …
… knowing that nothing would be perfect and that I was learning along the way.
There are nine leaves to the fan. I began to think of the leaves as nine opportunities to tell a story or vignette. I think that is how I will handle such an opportunity in the future.
Watercolor on wood. You can’t get much more ephemeral so who knows I may use these same thin pieces again one day. But this fan can stay as it is for a bit because a certain someone is beginning to work on a new table. A much smaller table. We’ll see what falls by the wayside this time for our next collaboration. Be well,everyone. 🙂
Artwork in the square. Deceptively simple looking and especially quite elegant when a gentle breeze blows and there’s plenty of breeze in Copley Square.
p.s. the subject line … I worry that, as I did after Biden won the election that first night, I worry that, once more, now that the riots are (so far) done, I hear people saying,”well, this is the end.” It is not. During World War II, after many defeats, the British finally obtained a victory. Some may have thought, well, this is the end. The year was 1942. Winston Churchill’s reply? “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”
Words + Images 