Tom's Rugs

Seeing this rug in one of my grand-mother's spare bedrooms brought me to another time and place for a few moments. The rug itself comes from Maine, from the rural town named Mariaville where I grew up, from the house at the top of the hill (my parent's house is at the bottom of that hill) that once belonged to Tom and Velma. Our elderly neighbor Tom used to make these rugs before his death about 7 years ago? Was it really that long ago or not, I can't remember! I still visit his wife, Velma, now in her 90's, whenever I'm home. Velma's sweetness always seemed countered by the grumpy hermitness of Tom as I recall from my childhood years. Now, looking at this rug again as I upload my photos, I am struck by how special it was that Tom was making these beautiful, time-consuming rugs through the Maine winters. Yet I only remember seeing him out tilling his garden or chopping and stacking firewood, or cleaning out his shed. But he had this hidden, artistic talent and daily practice too that you wouldn't know. Was he making the rugs just to sell - as he sold to my parents and countless others? Who taught him? What made him start and when did he begin? Did he ever teach anyone else? Did he follow a pattern? 

Must have something to do with something

4 beautiful cardinals on my walk and the usual group of deer by my grand mother's fountain.

A pair of peacock earrings on my spanish teacher's table.

French fries in Suzanne's car on the ride over.

A banana with thick, black zebra stripe down the side. Of all the bananas I've ever eaten, I've never seen one with those markings. Funny to think of bananas growing spots as they get older, changing markings like deer or leopards, or people.

This day has been a random jumble of sights and things and pieces of information, just like any day I suppose, but guess I'm more attentive to it.

I went for that walk this morning with the cardinals and deer, consciously being aware of stilling my mind. My mind's been pretty quiet the remainder of the day, just extra sensitive to stimuli. I'm very ready to de-stimulate. 

Vetiver on the radio. I like this song. I've heard it before. Who is it?

Fragments. Sleep. Early.

Cactus

A family of cactus grow in my grand-mother's front garden. She told me Pepere planted them, so they must be at least 15 years old, but they don't look it. The tallest no higher than half a foot. From some angles, they look like marching people. Small, purplish baby cacti shoot off from the tops. Looking closer, neat rows of prickles parade up and down. What a mathematical plant. And Memere says they bloom beautifully for one day only of the year.

style on a dog

I saw the cutest dog/haircut at a dog-park the other day. As you can see above! She knows she is special too. Such a friendly little dog. He came over to say hi immediately when he saw us paying attention. The owners, sitting a ways away, enjoyed the compliments too. The shaved part was not so soft as I expected, but the mohawk business? Like down or dandelion fluff.