Yesterday morning, contrary to the Weatherman's predictions, the sun was shining and the sky was blue, rimmed with potential thunder clouds peeking/peaking over the green hills.
I decided to pay a visit to my Stash, which you may recall is located in our lovely old travel trailer, full of memories of fishing and camping trips, late night card games but now stacked to the gills with white plastic bins, full of yarn, baskets overflowing with small balls of wool and endless pieces of loom equipment. They brought home to me how generously Charles had shared in my weaving life.
He made wonderful sectional beams for both my floor looms, bobbin winders and thread counters, a reverse drill complete with holder for twisting fringes, a spool rack and all sorts of advice, - full of creative ideas for supplying needs and wants, - he was so generous with his time and his marvelous red-neck remedies for all sorts of weaving dilemmas.
To get to the trailer/cum studio I had to pass through the lane of curly willows that Charles planted along the roadway leading to our home, - originally to hide the mess of old vehicles on the neighbour's property, but now it creates a most welcoming and shady drive up the hill, and all the time he spent rooting the clippings, planting and pruning and watering have resulted in a lovely memorial to him.
I also had to pass through the garden, which I did with selective vision - appreciative of the glorious show the roses present and ignoring the equally energetic coutch grass bowing at their feet.
The Mister Lincoln
The climbing Blaze
the Pink Climber
I brought home some cones of linen, some soft and silky white yarn, the rest of the Handwoven magazines and all sorts of other bits and pieces - and plan to go back in the next few days after I have made room on the shelves in the garage to stash it all!!!
Our elder daughter came on a flying visit in the afternoon with a friend, with the express purpose of showing her the Leclerc loom. I was glad to have some more woven on the warp and it has inspired me to hurry and finish this particular warp and get on with my silk rag bag ideas. What also inspired me was the catalogue from Treenway Silk that arrived in my e-box yesterday and the cost of their silk rag strips, and I looked on the old silk blouses that I am cutting up to weave with even more appreciative eyes. I have such a wild and wonderful array of colours and shades....
The blue skies stayed with us all day and late in the afternoon I went out to stroll along the side beds and found the aphids having a wild time amongst the pink cabbage roses at the gate. l I immediately went for the sprayer David had left all primed for me, turned it on and began spraying the foliage. I finished the cabbage roses, and then found that the climber next to it, heavily in bud, was also being attacked, so I moved along.
Time to turn the sprayer off. How does this happen???
I released the catch I had turned it on with. Nothing happened. I noticed the elderberry bush that last year suffered a sudden attack from these self-same aphids, and discovered a few leaves dry and curled, and I was glad to have the sprayer still operational.
Finally I discovered how to turn it off! I have been trying to control these aphids with hearty spray from the hose, but it appears this was not enough. An early morning inspection turns up dead eggs and no flying insects, so I hope this dormant oil was successful and not harmful to bees and birds and butterflies.
Nothing on TV last night so I went out and cut the lawns and enjoyed the evening air.
However, at 9 o'clock there was a marvelous program on the comeback of the Ukulele - totally different from last night's Israeli Philharmonic with Ishtak Perlman, lots of Beethoven and a wonderful trio of piano, cello and violin playing a Sonato in C. Enjoyed them both in vastly different ways, but they both made me smile....
I am going one step further with Viktor Frankl and reading 'Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning' - it sits propped open on the kitchen table where I breakfast, lunch and dine, and is a great contrast to 'Vodka, it's Me, Chelsea' which I take to bed on my Kobo. In the end it is possible they are both on the same underlying search........
I am immensely pleased with how the garden is growing in this cool, showery weather......
and especially with the Foxglove...
7 comments:
So lovely that I can ejoy your flowers without thinking of weeding or spraying.
I am also intrigued when you mention your weaving.
What an inspirational post Hildred. First of all, thank you for sending me the scent of roses to overcome the smell of manure. Having seen your beautiful rose photographs I can appreciate them even more.
It is lovely that you can revisit your memories of Charles now like you are doing - memories are so important aren't they?
Good luck with the weaving. (and the aphids - they are always with us)
Your "old" roses look so fresh - that couch grass be damned, though I guess you no longer have to worry about it. Maybe you could just go and cut the roses from time to time. The town garden looks lovely - my beds in Breckenridge are still under snow. My season will be VERY short this year! I like seeing the loom, HIldred, and what you're working on. I've read Man's Search for Meaning several times through the years.
The roses are lovely, Hildred. Visiting there must be a blessing, even with the couch grass. I'm able to visit our previous home where our children were very young...my daughter lives there now. Ones planting of flowers and trees become wonderful memories for all.
This is a lovely post, Hildred; it is so full of you! I love the roses and the silk rag weaving, and that you still have a stash of supplies to use.
Blessings on you, your memories of Charles, your weaving and your garden!
Such a lovely post of your day, so different to mine, pouring with very welcome rain, we have been so dry and for once it is still warm enough for the pastures to grow.
I love that you are reading those particular two books at the same time.
Beautiful memories of Charles entwined in the weaving trailer and nice that your daughter arrived to share them.
Your roses are wonderful...who would ever even notice the grass.
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