Last year my resolution was to keep this weekly blog to capture what I was up to with all of my projects. It ended up showcasing a nearly 50/50 split of dog and garden photos with only a rare glimpse of my studio (you know, if Mauly or some blooms had wandered in).
I was able to have my most challenging and rewarding artistic year yet because I was so heavily encouraged and supported while basically destroying the boundaries of my comfort zone. My deepest gratitude goes out to my dear friends for being with me through that. Please look forward to many bouquets in 2020.
I don’t love writing, so this secret/absolutely public blog will wind down, but I do appreciate the photo catalogue unintentionally created of what’s growing when. My goal this year is to leave the damn house. Perhaps my pictures will feature that as well.
Starting with attending Shitty Movie Night. Success! First book of the new year is a mod of my dollar store day planner. Complete!
Christmas was something. Holiday break was non existent. I found black mould in my bedroom and I’m guessing that the cause is minimal insulation in a Northern exterior wall and a heat pump that indulges me while I spend each waking moment not at work hiding in my bed. No wonder I constantly felt like I needed to sneeze for … a month? More? I can’t believe I missed it and things lingered for so long. The new bedroom set up feels good. My eyes are vigilant. My heart wants me elsewhere. Twenty-Twenty resolution is to just not be in bed while I’m awake (why yes, I am currently typing this from bed). To find ways and the will for alternatives to this sort of life. The bed fort felt necessary but it’s not been helpful.
Will my weekly posts continue? I’m not a writer. Do they need the words? Will I ever go back and read them? Having a weekly catalogue of photos documenting what-grew-when is pretty excellent. Maybe I’ll cut the sentiment. Just puns and photographs.
I’ve loved the playlists. Deeply. It was a great year of rediscovering music and letting my past guide me towards new tunes. It was 99% sad white lady music so maybe diversifying can be the forward focus.
Layers of iceThe lack of December snow has stalled my festive spirit. I didn’t make wreaths or a garland and the ice has kept me from trekking where I’d like to in the park. Without the white blanket there’s no charm to the cold. Things are just frigid and bleak. I am in need of a vivarium. Same frands, same makeup, same party, one year apart (but it looks like I’ve aged a decade? rude)I consolidated some plants when the Christmas tree arrived and now relaxing in the dining room is the best seat in the houseWhy are you sitting on my pillow, friend? What is this madness.
I ordered these in the fall and I cannot sort where I planted them. Truly my only reckless move of 2019
I also ordered these
and these and those
now where will they go
Speaking of all my reckless moves, my first seed order for the new year was from marginally reputable Pinetree Garden Seeds. They’re American but ship here. Will border agents incinerate it as contraband? Will the seeds be dead or completely mislabeled (there was a 50/50 split on recent reviews). WE WILL SEE. But also just look at these thunbergia:
Get ready for a collection of photos with lots of odd white space which also lends to my theory that this website is a front and if I get anything in the mail it will be less than the magic beans I paid for…
I also panicked and ordered from a Canadian farm (Edgebrook) that seems established in every way EXCEPT that their online seed company just opened a few months ago aaaaaand who is to say how things are going to go with that. Most signs point to it being a complete scam. Obviously I weighed my options carefully and just to be on the safe side ordered TWENTY seed packs. Why.
Mignonette – Grandiflora: supposed to smell like vanilla!
No, YOU went overboard.
Last but not least, the local crew at Annapolis:
It’s nice to have these photos all in one place where I peep them en masse and sad-smile.
Glorious pieces I’ve picked up from the 100$ or Less Sale over the yearsThe PrepI dropped off a lot of basic pieces. They didn’t sell well, so that was humbling. Variety is the lesson, I think.Artist Top NineThe tree is finally up
The backyard beyond the gardenWhen the weather network says there will be sun between 2-4pmWith the hanging planters down, winter decorations go upOne book for each month of 2020Talk me out of this accent waaaaaaall
Garden Ordering 2020 Where will my garden live come spring? No one knows! But I can’t stop dreamin’ in florals so it’s still full steam ahead/come what may.
My art game has benefited greatly from a small town culture that breathes comfort through conformity. With no one else doing anything similar, I always get accepted into markets/shows/galleries/residencies. It is to the point where as an artist, I’ve never been rejected. That’s probably a problem. Seems like it’s time to make some leaps. Speaking of:
2019 Blooms
I posted this photo online and suggested I’d offer a bouquet box program in 2020 to gather funds for a greenhouse. There was a lovely response and two asks to arrange floral wedding arches. It’s been awhile since I ran wedding decoration set ups. There was a lot about it I loved. Perhaps I’ll take on one a month for the 2020 wedding season to see if it feels right.
I will mention that I applied for a floral class scholarship and was declined. It was fair. I’m not ready. But I will be.
Worshiping Grass Bench like a God. Anything green and living is a blessing. Took a chance on bulgogi waffle. It paid off. Cactus blooms and a plate full of dog hair. The seeds are dried out and now it is time to package! I need to google threshing because the chaff is my enemy.
I started taking a prenatal multi-vitamin when I thought we could have biological children and was pleased to see that my fingernails swiftly fortified to absurdist claws. After the shake up, letdown and let go, I still take the vitamins but not as religiously and I’m always shocked that one missed pill turns these hardened razors limp and fragile. I looked down the other day to see a large chunk of one missing and my brain reacted the same way it would when encountering a visceral loss or flesh wound. A gut punch, all for nothing. To relieve the shock I had to TOUCH it with my other hand to fully acknowledge and cement that no pain or harm had resulted from the loss. They’re such a part of my reality/existence now that my brain panics at their loss. Why am I like this?
The paper I made from carrot tops for the larger gallery submission this year kept shrinking after the extended drying time allotted so they gave me my crate of pieces back between shows to see if I could address the warping before the next opening. I heard multiple cracks when I put it in the press so I’ve vowed to worry about it incessantly for 48h and then peek. I wanted to add more texture to the focal piece as well and I’m feeling decent about that.
When I submitted the pieces, I never wanted to see them again. At the first opening I cried while I stood in front of it all for the artist photo. I wasn’t even looking in their direction. I couldn’t.
Everyone was so kind at that opening. I wish I could recall the nice things they said. I do remember how the thoughtful words slowly seeped in and warmed me to finally turning around to look at the pieces, this time through their feedback/eyes. Now, when I see it up, I still feel the sorrow but there’s also some pride. Living through it, trying to express it, sharing what I could. If its reception hadn’t been so generous, so validating, where would I be with all of this? I’m grateful that I was able to turn the grief into something people connected with. I didn’t know I could do that.
Dreaded winter has arrived for keeps. The neighbours directly across the street have their tree up. To stave off hibernation season, it is instead Full Steam Ahead for Friendship Craft Gatherings!
There were two gladiolus stragglers that bloomed in the lull between the hard frost and this deep freeze that will hold me under ice for six months. Warm indoors, I find myself staring past them on the windowsill to the white blanket that has reduced a once vibrant landscape to nothing, or nothing that’s accessible. My greenhouse fund is real and it’s really quite vital. I have to limit lifting the coverings over my less hardy plants just to see dirt and touch something green. The garden has always been a coping mechanism and source of stress relief but I am feelingly the loss of it much more dramatically this year (clearly).
Nov 18th Update: I continued to fail at not lifting those coverings and went back for those roses:
Dear Everyone, Do you happen know how small a cosmo seed is? Do you know how truly (and I’ve never used this word before) GIMONGOUS the resulting plant can grow? Because it is ALARMING. The low branches (ripped off and standing up) are even taller than me. What sort of agricultural alien nonsense is this. I’m going to make fences and grow all my container climbers on them next year. Just wait.
