Friday, June 23, 2017

Garden Art and Blogging

It was July of 2003 and two of our sons were home from college and working on a red metal roof job with their dad and older brother out in the country.

The boys were fascinated by all the garden art at this beautiful farmhouse.



I loved hearing about it all and wished they had taken more photos, but you can see the reflection of the red roof in the round mirror. I hope the beads kept birds from flying into it.

Zack liked this farmer taking a rest from his chores.



Maybe Defee thought he was Rodin's The Thinker?




I remembered these photos this week when I was reading one of my vintage magazines, a June 1965 House & Garden. The theme of this issue was "The Delights of Summer At Home," and it made this Autumn, Winter and Spring aficionado fall head over heels in love with Summer for the first time since I was a schoolgirl set free from lessons and homework.



Two pages celebrated garden art and one photo took me back to the fun our older two children had playing in their sandbox. I don't think our younger two had one--do kids play in sandboxes anymore?


I would love to have this one for my granddaughters, a canopy of roses above their heads and a large stone turtle nanny to sit upon.

House & Garden said that "one playful conceit can make a summer" and that this gingerbread dog below was perhaps awaiting a calico cat.


I think they had him mixed up with the gingham dog and the calico cat, side by side at the table sat, but I've always loved pictures where a grand house has two stone or iron dogs in the garden. Tara Dillard believes the dogs should always face each other, not out. Wouldn't that be much more companionable?

At Valley View we had various pieces of garden art scattered around, mostly farm relics, all left there when we sold the place because they belonged there and were left in caring hands.

The only garden art at our new home was a green rabbit that I brought inside to save for Easter tables and a little blue bird that I yanked up and threw aside one cold winter day after we moved in. It was only when a little granddaughter visited, spotted it and wanted it put back that I began to look at it as worthy of keeping.



Now I wouldn't dream of throwing it away. It keeps visiting songbirds company at the bird feeder that sits on top of an old well. The birds and squirrels and this little piece of garden art entertain me through my kitchen window.



Recently a piece of garden art came to live with us that has great sentimental value, a pineapple, symbol of hospitality.



This pineapple is at least 35 years old and was an unsold item from our family garden center, first owned by my father and then sold to RH and his brother Bill.



The pineapple sits below our front porch in front of a large rosemary bush.

We hoped that other herbs would surprise us in this bed but instead there are many succulents and odd little plants blooming successively.



There are also patches of this plant in the bed but there are many bare spots in the sea of old bark. We hope to fill the bed in with perennial herbs and more succulents, a few plants at a time.



Everything is a work in progress here.

For now my herbs are in pots on the kitchen porch, seen below through the storm door, handy for me to use.

Bill knew we had left all our garden pots behind when we moved and said we were welcome to the old garden center pots that were still at his house.



So these 35 year old Italian pots hold my herbs for now under some lathe to protect them from the sun that shines here almost all day long. That porch will get a pergola roof eventually, knock on wood, and hopefully the large smoker out by the fence will be moved someday. It detracts from the view to the neighbor's pond. 

Perhaps I should just pretend that it's a piece of garden art? I do love garden art. What about you? Anyone have an interesting piece of art in your garden?

I know Doreen does at that beautiful log cabin of theirs that is now up for sale.

Anyone else?

I started to say that plywood cutouts of dogs peeing in the garden don't count, but hey, a lady whose garden art is a concrete pineapple, however beloved, shouldn't set any rules, should she? 

That's the Garden Art part of this post, the Blogging part of it has not been as easy to write.

Rodin's Thinker has not been the only one a-thinking. The past few weeks while I've been missing from blogging have been a time of reflection for me.

And it's been a time of waiting. Are you a good wait-er? Isn't waiting the pits?

Is there anyone who likes to wait for a doctor's report, for lab work to come back?

Before you start thinking the worst, let me tell you right now that all is well.

But I've waited for lab work reports since an annual skin cancer exam recently turned up suspicious spots. And after I learned that once again I had squamous cell carcinomas to deal with, I waited to hear when I could see the surgeon, and then waited for the surgery and then waited for that lab report. 

Don't you just wish we could just smash cancer into smithereens? 

Decades ago I waited for a surgical breast biopsy for cancer. It was benign.

Then I waited for a hysterectomy because they thought I had ovarian cancer. That was a difficult wait but it was endometriosis, not cancer.

In 2004 I had Mohs surgery for squamous cell cancer on my face and nose.

Last fall in Florida I was told that a growth removed from my nose was most likely malignant. Nine days later the lab report showed that it was benign.

I was lucky last week after the surgery on my shoulder. The lab report said they got it all, it had not metastasized. It has not been fun but cancer is fun for no one. And I am very grateful for all the prayers of family and friends.

But it has been a time of thinking, of deciding what is important. And the answer to that is that each day God gives me is what is important, a day.

A gift to be used wisely.

During this time when it has hurt to type much or hold a laptop, I turned back to pencil and paper. I worked on the books I've been writing on for years. I finished editing one for the dozenth time, worked on others, spending hours and hours each day instead of stolen minutes.

Some of you have been through this with me before, back at Across the Way. I gave up blogging then, missed it, began Dewena's Window. I don't want to stop blogging again, but I do want to cut back on the time I spend on it.

So I'll be trying to post only a few times a month at Dewena's Window.

Ha! That's about all I've done anyway this last year, isn't it? Only now it will be by plan, not by procrastinating. So you won't have to wonder where in the world Dewena has been. I'll still be here, I'll just give in to being a slowpoke.

It's summer, a time I usually want to pass quickly, to get on to the wonderful months of autumn, then to the holidays, and then to spring. Poor hot summer, how I've neglected you. Not anymore. Cancer has a way of making you appreciate each month.

What do I want now? I want what all of us want. 

I want art in my garden, I want art in my home. 

On my table, on my plate. On my mind.

I want artful work.

I want an artful life and I want to enjoy it. And I guess I'm admitting that at my age it all takes time. Especially for a slowpoke like me.

Thank you so much for listening! I hope your summer and mine is filled with days of joy, with days of contentment....I just plain old hope it is full of days--a gift from God.

Much love to you all,
Dewena




Saturday, May 27, 2017

Vintage Western for My Texan



We moved to a 1935 cottage and cottage rules here...except in one room.

My husband's bedroom is Western, no doubt about it.

The old knotty pine paneling suits it and all of his vintage Western touches look at home here.

These 1950s cowgirl boots that RH's father had custom made for his wife (RH's stepmother), take center stage here. Our daughter used to wear them.

There are other Western reminders in RH's bedroom. 



Let's put some Texas swing music on and show you around.




My Texan is proud of his roots. His mother's father's father's father, a French Huguenot, settled in Texas in 1833. We used his first name for one of our sons but couldn't quite get up our nerve to name one after his middle name:


Ptolemy

RH is also proud of his other heritage. His mother's mother was a Cherokee.



Here's a photograph of RH with his beautiful mother, older brother and little sister taken with Tex Ritter, one of the early "singing cowboys" in many movies. The photograph was taken about a year after Tex Ritter's "Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darling" won an Oscar for Best Song in the movie High Noon.

My husband remembers Mr. Ritter telling him "Don't touch the gun, son."



I gave RH this vintage steer horn mirror for Christmas many years ago, paying for it on layaway at an antique store.





For a while I tried to corner the market on these little china cowboy hats.



Our daughter surprised her daddy with this pretty painting one Christmas.



It hangs over his chair.



This picture of Sequoyah and his Cherokee alphabet was a gift from a son.



But the 1960 cancelled check that came with it drawn on the Texas State Bank makes us smile too--$45.50.



I never did get around to baking a cake in this heavy pan shaped like the state of Texas, but it makes a great catchall for little things in his room.



I cut a few herbs to go with some blooms for RH's bed table.



But the real thing I wanted to show you are the curtains we found for the bedroom at Goodwill when we moved here in January.



You might think these curtains don't belong in a Western room but when I spotted four panels I grabbed them. I thought they were just the right touch to give a little old world elegance to the room.




We liked them so much that I found another two panels on eBay after finding a label that they were Burlington, a rare pattern called Monaco Rose Hydrangea. 



Another trip to Goodwill produced a Longaberger tabbed curtain that was perfect to cover the wide closet that didn't have a door.



I need to start searching Goodwill again for frames for these 1958 lithographs of famous western artist Charles M. Russell.



I think they'd be perfect lined up vertically between Sequoyah and the Pottery Barn silver mirror the kids gave me for my birthday one year. I thought RH's room needed a little sparkle and swapped mine for his old oval wood framed mirror that seemed to disappear into the knotty pine.



I hope you've enjoyed seeing RH's Western bedroom.



Since I've shown you the listing photos in every other room in our new home, here's what this room looked like when it was for sale.



It seems like Western never goes out of style, it just keeps getting reinvented. Maybe it's because Western is intrinsically an honest-to-goodness American look. How could we do without it?



While we both love the old cowgirl boots in RH's room, and I have used them many times on a Western table as a vase for his birthday dinner, I think that someday I'm going to surprise my Texan with a pair from the King Ranch 
collection.

Or should a Texan pick out his own boots?

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

"Counting Flowers On the Wall...."



The old 1966 song of the Statler Brothers ran through my mind over and over as I crawled into my bed one afternoon this week trying to catch up on rest I've missed at night for a week now coughing my throat raw.




Tissue boxes have been my best friend for eight days now.

The afternoon that I was lying in bed alternating between chills and sweats,
my brain serenading me with the lines,
"Counting flowers on the wall, that don't bother me at all...",
I wondered when I would ever feel well enough to get
photographs of my bedroom for my blog as well as
those for RH's bedroom.

I reached for my phone and shot up at the new fir beadboard ceiling that RH worked on all last week, tearing down a horrible acoustical tile ceiling, thankfully the only one in the house.



That brown thing in the corner especially for the new molding will be painted when RH finds time to do touch up painting on the walls that he also painted last week with Benjamin Moore Dove White--or the Home Depot's copy of it.

I turned to my left and snapped my reading chair and bed table.


Yep, there's Cepacol and Vick's Vapor Rub and the toilet paper roll I was forced to use when RH had to go buy more tissues. 


And my tall vintage rose lamp that was carefully packed for the move in a huge box by itself with lots of pillows around it.

Otis usually sleeps in my chair while Milo burrows under a blanket in his bed.


Outside one window the tulip poplar is loaded with yellow flowers.


And there's a treasured old piece of embroidery.


I turn over to the right and see my mother's red Bible and another beloved lamp. RH has both my bedside lamps on a remote where I don't have to get out of bed to turn them off after reading at night.


On the far wall is an old lithograph of John Constable's Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows that I've had for fifty years.



I sang "Counting flowers on the wall that don't bother me at all, playin' solitaire till dawn with a deck of fifty-one, smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo, now don't tell me I've nothin' to do" over and over as I coughed my brains out and actually thought I had a brilliant idea to shoot the photos for my bedroom reveal from a sick bed.



Fever does strange things to a mind.

Yesterday I actually made my bed and didn't get into it.

Progress.


I do think it's a vast improvement from the listing photo, don't you?


The fan's gone now. We moved a light fixture from the hall into my bedroom and one from the kitchen into the hall.



A few final photos...will you forgive me for so many, 
maybe for one reason only?
Not because I've been sick but because.....

It's my birthday!!!!

I received beautiful cards...


And Jo Malone Tuberose and Angelica cologne...


And the loveliest flowers...


And a new sink, complete with installation!


Not to mention a whole kit of Young Living Essential Oils that I've been wanting, and a pot of African Paradise that I tried this afternoon in the shower.

And herbs all potted up from RH in 35 year old Italian terracotta pots given to us by RH's brother....

Oh the pictures could go on and on and I bet you're so glad they're not!

My heart is full of thankfulness for coming home to spend this birthday in our sweet little 1935 cottage.

And I'm am so very grateful for each of you who visits Dewena's Window.

Thank you for your patience viewing this harebrained way of posting my bedroom reveal.

Love to you and God bless you,

Dewena