Drops of Glass

A few beading projects.

First, a series of wildflower greeting cards.

The forget-me-not and white clover were raffled off as part of a benefit for the library where I work.  I like them, but am going to keep tweaking the patterns.

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I was very pleased with how the clover flower came out.

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The black-eyed susan is my most bead-intensive work yet.  It also took the longest–almost four months of off-and-on work.  I’ve gotten pretty attached to it, and will probably keep it for now.

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Second, two graduation gifts, both based on Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney.  I love her artwork, and the lupines from the book were the inspiration that evolved into the wildflower cards.  Both pieces were beaded freehand, with no pattern, so each is unique.

The first was beaded on cardstock, and framed behind glass.

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The second was sewn on cotton, and left framed in the embroidery hoop (and yes–that is beaded cursive!).

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And finally, a re-discovered card which was made last summer.  It was intended to be used as a baptismal card.

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Everything Green and Growing

I’ve never thought that I would like gardening much.  Kneeling in the dirt until your knees ache, the sun beating on your back, swatting at insects, yanking up weeds only to have them return as soon as you turn around–no, thank you.  A succession of dried-out, dead houseplants from my year in Texas seemed to confirm my brownthumb.

So I am still surprised when I go out into the garden and spend hours kneeling (on a really cushy pad), in the cool shade, with insects kept away by lemongrass spray, meditatively yanking up weeds–and enjoy it.  Surprised enough, in fact, that I reflexively procrastinate on gardening until it must be done.  I hope that the enjoyment will become a stronger memory than the distaste.

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In case I forget why I put up with six-month, subzero winters laced with multiple feet of snow–this is why:

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A happy thyme plant on the sunny kitchen windowsill.  Its neighbors are oregano, basil and chocolate mint.

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Last year, for better or for worse, we planted strawberry plants as groundcover in our front flower garden (a.k.a. “edible landscaping”–we are always either early or late to these trends).  They have enthusiastically filled up the available space, and this year we are getting our first real harvest.

They are small, but delicious, and have deep flavor ranging from candy-sweet to tart.

Picking strawberries is like a treasure hunt.  Only the thought of seeing how many I can gather “this time”–and love for my husband–keeps me from popping all of them in my mouth as I go.

A bowl of summer:

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