Vagabond Video: Southdown Baby Doll Love....

As promised, here is a quick an cute video that is, I guess, the visual compendium to my Mountain Time post. I thought you would enjoy a real time view of the cute Southdown Sheep on June and Dean's farm.

I won't lie to you, while I was casually scratching mama Belle's precious noggin, I was quietly scheming on how her babies would fit into my suitcase without being noticed!

What sort of animals do you own, or do you dream of stealing away?

In the meantime...enjoy!

More Mountain Time Tales...

This past year, so far, has been one of remarkable journeys. And this mountain-top expedition was no different....

In the middle of my mountain journey, we went into the neighboring town of Oxford. Away from the green mountains, small quaint towns dot the landscape. They are the exact sort of cute small towns that Hollywood seems to capture when they create the "perfect small town." Oxford seems to be the epitome of a simpler, old fashioned world, as charming shoppes boasted old fashioned whimsy, and the surrounding gardens and architecture boasted history and creativity. Old fashioned ice cream parlors snuggled alongside spunky art studios displaying eclectic but prideful work. Sleepy coffee shops boasted tasty fare and flower potted porches, old buildings mingled with Victorian reproduction architecture. Everything was well manicured, and reminded you of something you saw in one of grandma's scrapbooks. In fact, I dare say that I did spy rosy-cheeked children and neighborly folks for our jaunt into this ebullient place.

What we had come for was a folk singing show, put on by the local theaters and shoppe-keepers. Here's the trio, straight from Nashville.

Ruefully, I forget their names, though I could swear it was the "Waylands" or "Waygoers." They sang a sweet mixture of country, bluegrass, and whatever fun folksy tunes hit them....

 In between sets, I took the opportunity to photograph the lush town trappings surrounding me.

When I say "quaint," I ain't kidding, Folks! Remember the Old Fashioned Ice cream Shoppe? 

Ye olde bank building....I'm not sure, but am very curious, as to what it's used for today. Knowing how these sorts of towns work, I'm sure it's been spectacularly renovated to be a...bank building!

The fountain in the middle of the square where the folk singing was happening. I love these owl heads....

Houses around town square....

 

There seemed to be deep history in every structure in the place....

Meanwhile, the music flowed long and lush into the night. Twilight brought forth a burst of little brown bats. They whizzed, small daredevils, in the twilit sky, their tiny chirps heralding the dark. Meanwhile, the humans lolled happily at the music and friendship all around. Whole families camped out on old quilts and lawn chairs for this, probably a grand time, by this town's standards. I found myself feeling the same way. City girl or not, I guess it says something that I was impressed by what most city folk would jokingly call a "low-key affair.

Funny, I clearly was the odd (wo)man out, not one of these people looked like me, but there was a comforting, familiar feeling, which I always harken back to loving the country life. I was the misfit that FIT in here, somehow....

As a funny (or disturbing--you make the call) aside, Dean and June informed me of the local townie who had managed to lose his driver's license (at least that was the theory) and so took it upon himself to drive ALL AROUND TOWN in a John Deere tractor mower. He did this to the point, apparently, that he became the local legend/gossip/celebrity for doing so.

I wasn't sure if I totally believed this story--to be quite honest I thought this was a fun way to "pull the wool over the city girl's eyes"--except that on our way home from this magical night, we all spied THIS PARKED along the street with the rest of the cars!

I'll let you imagine how long we howled with laughter!

Neither Here nor There...

The next day, there was more beauty to behold in Ithaca's downtown area, where June and I headed for an "out of town" trip....

The parking garage seemed suddenly attacked by giant Lepidopterae!

In the area known as the Commons (signaling Cornell University's campus), also boasted another beast: a steel horse--

Then there was the farmer's market, which was our original  point of destination when driving for an hour into Ithaca. 

I actually realize that I ended up taking pictures, not of beautiful squash or festive farm stands, but of the ART  booths there because: 1. I'd never really seen a farmer's market that DID allow non-produce material to be sold and 2. All of the artwork was absolutely stunning! 

Here are TWO GLASS BLOWN TABLES. The colors are absolutely stunning, and the artist had many examples of unique glass blown objects on display!

There were plenty of folks that worked with wood, which was encouraging to yours truly. Wouldn't these be lovely to paint on?

Now, what can I say? A girl loves shoes, and I am sure they would be more "lovable" when hand painted!

 

There were so many splendid booths full of art and absolutely amazing foodstuffs, that I was too busy ogling to take any decent pictures. June, and I ended up feasting on a tasty Indian food lunch--papadams, fried veggies and coconut milk over rice and chick peas hit the spot. We also met various raw dessert connoisseurs, raw cheese farmers, veggie sellers of all shapes and sizes (the farmers AND the veggies), plant-mongers, herbalistas, folks selling a cornucopia of amazing items from honey to blackberries to duck eggs.  It was a fine time, a feast of senses, a carnival for the soul, being out there with the noisy earthy, friendly  artistic crowd. When I talk about "my people"--yep, these would be my folks!

Needless to say, it was almost impossible for me to leave. Something about this place makes my bones ache...though to be fair, I can say this about most of my travels into farm country. June and Dean-- like the lovelies in Iowa, like folks on farms I've visited in years past-- seem generous to a fault. Or, perhaps, that's the way it SHOULD be, and we've somehow convinced ourselves that miserliness, dishonesty and greed are "just the way things are."

But this was not the case in Greene. June and Dean are wonderful, fair people. I truly wanted to hide underneath the covers when it came time to return, hoping not to return to my "real" life in a city where reality bites. But such is life. I can say I will most likely be back here, to this wonderful mountaintop, if only for a visit. 

But there are secret things to tell you about, soon...and fun adventures, I think. But I will leave you in suspense, for now...

Perhaps in a few days I will let you know, and also show you some wee woolies in little stories....

Mountain Time Tales

By and by, I was moving forwards. 

Long before I had returned back(wards) to New York City, I found myself whirring past it, toward a mountain paradise. I could not have known then, that sandwiched between the mad rush or leaving New York City AFTER work, and the insane return from this trip, that I would have found a wonderful respite, a healing salve of a trip in Upstate New York...I should have known better, for the very reason I travel is because each travel seems to bring some new lesson, new friends and new experiences...

There is a myth that few people outside of New York City understand; there IS a vast, verdant state outside of  the NYC metropolis. Indeed, long before skyscrapers would dominate the imagination of an entire world, people had been farming the lush black soils of New York and it had, historically, been a strong dairy state, good enough to rival those of Middle America.

Amongst this vibrant, brilliant contingent was one place special to me; I was visiting the farm of June and Dean Sparks. They are farmers AND brilliant business folk--Dean and his partners had saved various organic family farmers from assured bankruptcy by marketing directly to consumers under their own brand: NYFoods (NYOrganic).

I had initially come to know the Sparks by interviewing them, perhaps a year ago. Like me, they had a strong passion for farming, farmers, nature, animals, and saving what little ethical farming that there is in America.

Dean had come to advocate organic farming and through his tireless efforts, had managed to bring 35 organic farmers under his brand name, lining up fair contracts with them. I could admire such a person, along with his sweet and kind wife, June, who seemed funny, imaginative, and generous.

I was going to the farm for many reasons, not least of which was to visit these two friendly farm gurus; I had not yet met June in person, and I wanted to see their beautiful homestead. And beautiful, it was!

Green-mobbed-mountain:

A World of blue and green....

June and Dean, appropriately enough, lived in the aptly named town of Greene. Indeed, all around were old (or is it "olde") bucolic images of a pastoral world most folks  would only imagine deep in the recesses of their postcard perfect view of farming:

Here at the side of Dean and June's farm, one can perhaps see the outline of their pond, at ground level, from the center and left. I am told that it's waters are teeming with a world of goldfish and koi....

Their farm is beautiful, full of untamed surprises....

Wild blueberry bushes that ran wild on lush acreage were picked....

Whilst unripened blackberries were eyed with sorrowful anticipation. How does one wait until they gain their proper color and ripeness?

Past miles of meadow, the Sparks also have a shale quarry and, a small stream running amongst it. Here, tadpoles spend their infancy in a watery playground. If you look closely, you can see them as the black dots in the stream:

 The Sparks also love animals and have a bevvy of beasts amongst their farm that they respect and seem fond of. Here are their rather timid Jacob, and Romney Cross sheep.

And here are ram lambs, Mike and Ike, BabyDoll Southdown sheep. I am particularly fond of this breed as their small size and adorable facial features call to mind a certain "teddy bear" cuddly factor!

Here is a picture of Jim, the future cart horse. Although right now, he's a feisty, fussy little thing.

Let's just forget the fact that he lifted a back hoof, in consideration (insert sarcastic snort here) of kicking me. I mean, we absolutely could NOT have me coming back, limping,  saying a small horse could do any damage to a tough city girl like me, right? To be fair though, he was VERY smitten with June, his owner; most likely, he's freaked out by my weird hair and crazy personality. Or something.

Of the other wonderful animals found on the property, there is a small mob of the requisite barn and outdoor cats that serve as vermin patrol, essential to most farms. Amongst the sweet faces, this little princess stole the show!

This is "Baby Sassy," the world's smallest and sassiest outdoor kitty...followed along by her rather young, nervous, and feral mother. Sassy's mother was too young to properly care for her so Dean and June stepped in to bottle feed her. She clearly loves people and the attention it brings her. She runs right up to any human, much to the chagrin of her untamed mother, who constantly tries to scoop her up before the humans do...

As you can see here...Baby Sassy is a wee darling, and cute, to boot!

Is Dean a big bear of a man, or is Sassy super-teensy?  C.  All of the above.

 

I find this picture to be very telling, and probably my favorite, as it gives you some idea of the nature of my wonderful hosts:  they love animals and, despite their busy business roles, they truly do care for even the smallest creature in their care....

There were more adventures to partake of:  folk music was to be danced to, along with antique hunting, farmer's market trolling, and much more....and I shall save this for another time, another post in these Mountain Time tales.....

Backwards.....

  I want to tell you the story of this weekend, but in doing so, I'll have to tell it backwards...

I'll start at the end, by way of explaining the beginning. I'd stepped off the bus, you see, coming home from a trip to an upstate New York farm. And the requisite smile from the calm I felt from just leaving the jostling city was about to be wiped, if not knocked, off my face.

It was all backwards, you see. Those people in the city, they all had some place "important" to go, the ones who knocked past me in their rush, into a world probably too fast to recognize them as humans. This world was a robotic crush. They needed to be somewhere yesterday, and they looked right past me, the girl with a rolling suitcase, not caring whether they jostled me or not. Or the woman who stepped on my foot, because she was too busy texting, but glared at me huffily, as if it were MY fault that she bumped into me.Or the trio of men who blocked the entire sidewalk, not bothering to politely step aside (yes, chivalry, m'ladies, is dead here).

New York City is like that, convincing you of this mindless business, this chaotic way of being. It's energy used to enthrall me when I was younger, my muscles more limber, my focus elsewhere. It's glitter is bedazzling, but by now, I'd seen it all, and it's glare was white-hot blinding and my focus had long ago blurred.

It's a funny thing, to be utterly aware of HOW foreign everything can suddenly become. Scratch that--I am the foreign one in this strange equation. I realized that, on my slow travels homeward, that day, that I am the wayward traveler, even on the sojourn home....

I am backwards, you see, so utterly out of place everywhere, that I am a walking contradiction. I am, at times, the most shyly conservative hippie, of international birth and yet never quite identifying with those original people, while yet constantly being mistaken for any nationality. I am the most serious artist you will ever meet. I am a responsible dreamer, who has three different jobs, but could be penniless on any given day.  I am the urban farmer, the writer who has no patience for writing, both loud and loudly silent.

It's lonely at times, trying to belong everywhere, doing everything, and constantly feeling stuck in a rut. Who the heck wants to deal with me, with my weird ways? Who do I talk to, in this concrete labyrinth, about digging in black soil, establishing roots, literally and figuratively?  I am a traveler, but I long for a bit of earth at times, away from concrete, just to know I can DO things, I can take care of myself, I can live the way my grandparents lived, and I can be happy about the simplicity of it all. This is the world of the farmer, the world I advocate to others consistently, but which feels just out of the grasp of my own fingertips.

Backwards, these ideas are: the feel of lanolin from freshly shorn wool, the smell of various types of lavender or garlic, the sounds of hooves calmly clomping on packed soil, or the breath of a gypsy cob horse in the winter morning ....these are strange memories of things I've never purely been a part of, of things in the future.

I long for a tribe of people who know these things. Sometimes I think I will howl at the moon, looking for this lost part of myself, or some semblance of belonging to a breed of people as strange as myself. Perhaps amongst stars and clouds I will find the answer, the beginning of the end of this backwards-ness.

I know this much to be true going forward: there is another adventure to behold. There is a place for me. And this place most likely utilizes a horse. And probably uses the word "FARM" in its title.

Petticoat Junction...

 “A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally” ~ Lillian Day

Now returning to our story: When last I left you,  I had been knee deep in antiques. From Iowa.

And there was still a second box, which in a round-about way, had journeyed here because the Iowa connection, yet again...

Cathy Linker Lafrenz was my second stop on the Iowa tour. Besides living in a a dream home FULL of antiques, she was kind enough (or saintly enough, in my point of view) to drive around with me, in between classes, to antique shoppes around town. Come to think of it, given our addiction to outmoded things, we probably were like two kids playing hooky from school, looking for the fastest way to get into trouble.

Neither here nor there...

This would probably be a good segueway to let you know there is something about old clothing that makes me melt. Edwardian and Victorian clothes, are the cat's meow around here. I can't explain it, and it's actually quite contrary to my sort of do-it-yourself-get-out-of-my-way-fiercely-independent-tomboy nature. I mean, I work in dirt, wrangle animals, and Spider-man myself onto concrete roofs in order to care for stinging insects. It's not quite tea-time around here, if you catch my meaning.

Nevertheless, I know enough about my whims to know that tea time, frills and ribbons, and all things whimsically feminine do secretly catch my fancy; these precious vestiges of other worldly womanhood are a curiosity for me. Something about being a "proper lady," gets me, every time.  And for some time, I'd been looking at petticoats, things to wear under my modern day summer dresses. Because, let's face it, this summer is hot; only dresses will do, so perhaps some "proper lady"-dom wouldn't hurt, now would it?

On one of our antique excursions I did, in fact, find a petticoat, one with sweet eyelet edging. I have no idea whether that thing was actually an aged Edwardian or Victorian piece, or a cast off from the hippie era, but it didn't matter. I had my first petticoat, and I guessed it was probably as old as I was, and I scored it for a ridiculous amount. I would probably spend as much for a decent dinner in New York City for that amount!

But something went wrong: like a girl with her first tattoo, I wanted more. Of course, being frugal, I thought to get JUST ONE MORE SET, and I'd make sure that the piece was turn of the (last) century. And so, after scouring, waiting, and pouncing on one of the online auction sites, I managed to bring home THREE Victorian pieces, offered by the same seller. The beauty part? They EACH came out to LESS than the cost of the original antique store petticoat!

Here they are in all their glory!

(click to enlarge)

(l-r: long petticoat skirt, bloomers with flounce, short petticoat skirt)

And here they are on one very happy Victorian wannabe!

White bloomer under petticoat skirt. Close-up, you can see the intricacies of the crochet lace inserts, ribbon work and eyelet work!

Double-checking the fit.....

.....and getting ready to dance for joy!

Needless to say, I am well spent from tons of Happy Dances and General Grinning!

I won't really detail what Sweetheart said, although he took the conventional route that I suppose most people take when their Other Halves decide to buy undergarments to wear, but let's just say the phrase *you want to wear Grandmama's underwear* was uttered a few times, and this may have been accompanied by bouts of head shaking and pitying smiles...

But indeed, I now own some lovely, frilly bastions of old-world beauty. Hmmm, but there's a quandry...they look ever so lonely. Perhaps some outerskirts, gloves, a corset,  a bonnet and a parasol are in order? Did I mention this sort of thing becomes addictive??

The Weekend Wonderland....

A short diversion from our last story, I thought to tell you about my meanderings this holiday weekend while it still lingers fresh in memory.  Because I actually found myself in the never-before-heard-of position of having a day off (and only then because a client of mine missed her weekend flight to some Westward 4th of July excursion) , off into the Wilds of Manhattan I went!

If you've never been to Gotham City, you will not understand the chaos, color, or charisma of the place. While it was furtively QUIET this weekend--I suspect most of the urbanites high-tailed it for literal or figurative "greener pastures--there was still the standard kaleidoscopic ruckus standard to the city weekend. Mixed in with it: humor, charm, edge, and surprises around every corner....

My first stop? You Guessed it! 

THE FARMER'S MARKET DOWNTOWN!

I love it when the farmers find creative ways to sell their wares...

More lovely flowers....

A stall vending old crafted cheese...and wooden ware...

Beautiful handmade yarn from sheep in Upstate New York!

A hot summer's day, great for flip flops...and impressive canine gear!

Washington Square Park...the arch was inspired by L'Arc De Triumph in France...

My friend Denise accompanied me while we jumped head-long into a street fair! Tons of goodies but no money meant lots of stall-browsing and trying on funny hats! She's quite the looker in this head-topper, no?

This "mandala" sat right out on the sidewalk, a form of street art...I strongly suspect they are made of Skittles, but we didn't get close enough to see (or taste!) clearly...darn....

If you suspect that the Skittles Mandala was an isolated incident, take a look at this chalk rendering, found the very next day, in Washington Square Park, when I journeyed there with Sweetheart in tow.

Incredibly I managed to take ANOTHER non-work related excursion out to the hinter lands, for a brief time in between thoroughly annihilating dust-bunnies and properly organizing my little hovel.

Once back home, it was business as usual, though I didn't mind this sort of work...a monthly inspection and secondary honey harvesting was in order!

Bee Charming

...or perhaps they are charming me...

 

Meanwhile, Independence Day brought some nice news for my art, as it looks like these beauties are close to the finishing line of creation....

 The Heart Queen needs a bit more finessing, but hopefully she's done by mid-week!

In my last post, I showed you this work, but I don't think I mentioned that this is a multifaceted wood-burning, meant to be a paperweight. ALL sides of the wood piece art burned...

And it tells a little story...as you may be able to see....

Meanwhile...and this beauty is just starting to breathe into existence.

I am trying something new with this infant piece of art, and you can see the beginning of the wooburned outer contours. It's a bit nerve-wracking because, as usual, I'm challenging myself to do something on an unfounded technique...unfounded, at least to me. But I figure if I can get this right, then I'm one step closer to an even CRAZIER idea I have. So stay tuned.

On other fronts, Independence Day was a smash-hit; I don't think I've mentioned it but when I am not trying to rule my little kingdom in the corner, I DO like to cook. My jaunt to the farmers market had me grabbing organic squash and handfuls of dill, the squash to be stuffed with garlicked and parmesaned cous-cous, and  topped with shredded jack cheese and then festooned with the dill. I only lamented that I didn't have the time or means to grow my own dill, or make my own cheese this year!

Right before the fireworks display, I cozied up to my Sweetheart and my land lord and land lady (who live right beneath us) in their festive garden, and by twilight and candlelight,  we dined on my buttermilk biscuit-strawberry shortcake dessert. Mamas strawberry jam, Bronx Bees honey, whipped cream, buttermilk biscuits; while not distinctly American, it felt like a proper way to prep for our fireworks viewing....

Our version of "attending the fireworks display" actually involves us gallivanting up onto our rooftop (yes, where the bees are, although they aren't active at night)  and staring off into our distant horizon where one can clearly see straight back into Manhattan, and the huge fireworks displays that seem to launch from various angles of the skyline. The four of us stood in the delightfully breezy night air, with a slight outline of the new moon winking at us, the sounds of happy celebratory music playing from a neighbor's house and laughter from the children in the street. The whole block below us was awash in good tidings at the close of an amazing weekend. As the fireworks blazed their colorful light trails across the sky, and I hugged Sweetheart, I made a wish. It seemed like the right and lucky thing to do.

I also felt a deep gratefulness resound from within me: despite my crazy and hectic life, it is magical. As was this weekend...  the sort of weekend when one could be happy to be alive, to look at the beauty and diversity around them, and be happy to be where they were, amongst fellow friends, New Yorkers, and Americans.

How was your weekend?