Creepy and Cute....

Just two creative types..Dani and I, right before the mischief!

*Note: I am in a mad-dash scramble to post as many stories WHILE they keep happening
on this adventure. In order to do so, I've posted TWICE today!
If you'd like to see today's previous story, click HERE

People often ask what possessed me to start on these strange excursions and, while there is no one definitive answer, I would rank the idea of PEOPLE high on the list.

I have always been curious about people. My fellow creative, ambitious, funny, witty, bold folk. It is a strange, large tribe that we are. Those who run the same, or foreign course alongside mine. Those who agree or dissent. I am interested in you. I am interested in those stories, and it is always a fine time discovering the world of people.

I started this journey with the idea of meeting friends. Whether through the interwebs, or via long relationships of old--the kindness of friends has always been a balmy beacon, and has helped make these journeys possible, in many ways. A good kinship of offering board and even a meal, was the staple of old traveling bards, and in some ways, I type these stories as I travel along, and take kindness by staying along the wayside with friends.

My friend Dani would be no exception to this. A long time friend from my artistic life, she would be the first stop on this new journey out.

Dani is the artist's artist--and patron. She has loved art so long and hard, that she once headed a grand bevvy of Halloween artists, single-handedly promoting them while creating her own specific art works, which is no small feat. Maintaining online presence, advertising, and hosting shows, while making art and raising a family is a touch of magic and skill that not everyone possesses. For years I admired such acumen, but may have loved her more because she was a lover of ALL things Halloween. And as a fellow devout parishioner in that strange temple of High October, I would support this Queen of Halloween for all it was worth. In fact, she had set her sights further, and opened her own gallery of spooky

Dani is a Jersey girl, in that she lives in the state but, make no mistake---the place that she calls home was not a smog filled, crime ridden city. Like so much of upstate New York, which was an altogether different beast than it's ill-riddled NYC cousin, Dani's home straddled the Delaware river, where Washington made his famous crossing. And it was stunning--lost in nature and time. Gnarled ancient trees lay resplendent in their fall costumes; leaves rained like mad, casting surreal colors the golden air.  Her home was a quaint and curious mixture of so much color and art. Her life was not in the city, but her love of art was eclectic and chic and cool. At the same time, she was a warm, friendly, charming type.

I arrived at her home, and immediately we were off on adventures. We already had our plan for mayhem, and it involved our shared love of antiques. Yes, we loved old and curious things, and she had just the solution for The Antique Itch: within a half-hour's ride, there was a huge indoor/outdoor antique bazaar, boasting hundreds of stalls. All sorts of kitsch, vintage, antique and flea market finds were bursting from table to table.

I think I might have drooled, just a little.

However, once there, I surprised even myself...and didn't buy anything. There was lots of lovely stuff, and perhaps a few true antiques, but I was secretly holding off for my next journey through Pennsylvania, where I had promised myself a few antiques from the Victorian period. Which is not to say there weren't substantial findings to be had at this large market. In fact Dani--ever the one geared towards creepy and cute-- may have usurped me by buying a stash of old animal bones. Talk about antiques. For her, the old are oddies and curios for her strange Victorian themed haunted house of a store....

And, in fact, that's where we were headed next. We were going to New Hope, a town I had heard was a whimsical place--where old buildings gave way to older history and mingled with new and eclectic art and shops. Amongst them, The Creeper Gallery made it's abode.

Indeed, this place did not disappoint....

Antique houses showed off their charm. This Victorian is an inn AND a fancy restaurant. Make no mistake, the charm of this place is tempered, at least for the budget conscious, by price. Paradise takes a few dollars around here, but it was nevertheless impressive to be here...

Another fancy restaurant from an old stone building, aptly named hearth...couldn't you imagine a giant fireplace crackling in there?

There were funny touches, too. This gaggle of rubber duckies and (perhaps Halloween-themed?) crows are part of the window display at a fancy soap and sundry store.

Of course, the treasure of the day was The Creeper Gallery. You know about this place before you even walked in the door....

Heck, the BANISTER was decorated with a skull head. In here, it was Halloween and the Cabinet of Curios rolled up all into one. Think Jekyll and Hyde and Frankenstein....this place has a clever and creepy side....

Much of the art is done by Dani herself, alongside her partner. For an extra dash of morbid madness, old bones and shells, antiques, and art from other artists rounds this place out....


And while this may make my creative friend seem too dark, know that this gal is also as compassionate as they come. She is, I found during my stay, a rescue mother to a small army of sweet furry dogs, and a counselor to victims of violence. In all the time that I'd known her, she'd never made mention of that. She also was generous to me, almost to a fault. She loved my soaps, she was a gracious host....she is clever, but also humble in surprising ways. And, of course, she is brilliantly creative.

When people ask why I travel--this is one of many examples!

To see more of Dani's creepy and cool creativity, visit The Creeper Gallery Website!

Jersey Wild III

 Hotrods!

After a fine day of ornament-making frivolity, it was time for other hijinks. After all, I had been in New Jersey for all of two days--there was still much to do, and see.

Luckily, on the same day that I had finished teaching a soft cloth ornament workshop, there was also a car show in town. So after my students had packed and carted off their newly birthed cloth ornaments, I went out into the fine sunlight, to see some old cars (and old cottages).

This car show is not a new thing, and it's annual arrival into town plays Pied Piper to a whole slew of different types of folks. They flock in droves: the young and curious, the young-at-heart car enthusiasts, rowdy bikers, families of all shades and striped.

The cars line the middle of town, proudly polished and showing off their fine pedigrees. I'll be honest: I didn't know what I was looking at, half the time, but I was impressed. All sorts of fine old historical automobiles shared space with muscle cars and bikes, slick hot rods, cute and curious chuggers, and strange contraptions on wheels.

Look at these wheels!

Shiny!

Yellow VW trveling van. My wandering heart was in love!

I walked the streets, sort of proud of this little place. I know it wasn't my town, but the bright charm and interesting events around here make for an interesting stay, even to a temporary foreigner, like me. I wandered 'round, like those slurping cold drinks and chomping on ice cream, gawking at the pretty cars, and perusing the magical little shops in town.

19th century building that now houses the antique store Finder Keepers

The lovely little cottage that is Endless Treaures

In the middle of town was this funny VW beetle. The idea was part of a fundraiser. You paid $5 and got to paint a little bit on it. The money funds the local theater...

Seems like a clever idea!

In the meantime, I had one more class to teach, a red hot scorcher to take place the next day. It was a wood burning class, of course. I had been a pyrographer (or wood burner) for a couple of years, and had created  and sold wood spoons, boxes, plates, and ornaments. To be able to teach this strange, pyromaniac habit to others was something new to me, but I had some excellent (and humorous!) students.

To be fair, this was really done through a favor of the cottage neighbor of my hostess. Holly's next door business neighbor (and friend) Mary and her husband Rich own the Pinelands Folk Music And Basketry Center. Inside are amazing mountain music instruments, baskets that Mary weaves herself, gourds, gems, crystals, and all manner of native or primitive objects. This place makes my heart sing.  Mary is a kind and creative soul--heck, most of the shop owners here are friendly and helpful. They pay for brunch, pay for my classes, talk to me in an encouraging manner.

I also meet her son, a fellow vagabond like myself. Stephen is as lean as a wire, and he travels 'round, making and teaching basket making to people in various places. It's noble, carrying on his parents' legacy, and it's a thing of wonder to know that I'm not alone in my strange wanderlust lifestyle. He tells me about his Memorial Day plans of going out with friends to train-hop from Philadelphia to Virginia. My eyes, widen, incredulous. "You mean like the hobos in other eras?"
"Yep," he says simply, guilelessly. I realize, then, that he probably has an honest love for this type of radical living and even I have to admit, I'm not sure I'd pull of that risky and illegal stunt. He may actually out-vagabond ME.

The class I am teaching consists of Mary, her friend Ronnie, and Rosemary, an enthusiastic local. Since it is rainy, we decide to hold it indoors in Mary's work studio, to avoid fumes in Holly's immaculately kept store. While the subject matter might seem unnerving, anyone can be a proper wood-and-fire-starter. It really is just about the right kind of wood, burning tool, and hand/wrist  technique.

My charges were enthusiastic enough. After basic instruction, it was time to get to practicing. Confession: the wood we were using was probably more rough hewn than useful for our class, but we all dove right in. 

Mry, rocking the wood burning...

Rosemary gives it her best shot.

Ronnie, wood burning  a tree design.

Some cool and lovely work came out of that session, and even though a fire tool seems like a daunting thing to use, it made me proud to see everyone giving it the old college try!

Ronnie's finished tree burning....

Soon enough, the class was finished. It would be time to go. I had spent an amazing four days at this place, locked away in it's own little magical world.

Holly was kind enough to send me away with a sweet care package--they included wood pieces, a mug, and other fine things from Jersey Made. The knife there, was a gift from my uber-vagabond friend Stephen. Apparently when not train-hopping, he give knives to girls as gifts, in this case, a handmade knife with a wooden hilt. I couldn't help but blush and laugh... and realize that my charmed life has weird edges. I can't help but smile--I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thank you, Jersey Made!

What a grand Jersey adventure...I strongly suggest you see these fine artists and vendors--support local businesses and fine creations when you can!

But my travels were nowhere near finished! I was about to see a fine author, farmer, and fellow Vagabond, in a mountain tale as fabled and fun as the beekeeping class I would be teaching there!
TOMORROW: Cold Antler Farm in Upstate New York!

Jersey Wild, Part II

It had been pouring rain, on the second day of my trip to New Jersey. Indeed, it had been a long, strange, almost dangerous trip until this point, though it had also shown glimmers of being stunningly beautiful as well.

The rain did not dampen my mood--there was much to do and see in this enchanted little town where I was staying, and its people were wonderful characters, as well. This place, as with most small towns, boasted a close knit group of people. Holly Doyle, my hostess, might as well have been the unofficial Mayor of the place: she either stopped, or was stopped by, everyone in the street. She knew everyone, it seemed, and always had a funny or kind thing to say about them.

Many of the class attendants were such friends, or had been a part of one of the other prolific classes that were offered up at Jersey Made, the wonderful store and art space that Holly owned. In that little shop, surrounded by whimsical, wonderful, and clever items handmade by Jersey residents, those little classes chugged along, with strange and fun touches for the next few days as part of my stay.

My first night was spent teaching "Outside Of The Box Living." It was a study on how to live outside the conventional norms. As dubious as that may sound, there are actually techniques to living the life you want, away from corporate jobs, nine-to-five schedules, big house payments, and general forms of this form of strange, "capitalist slavery."  I was heartened to see a young lady, not yet out of high school, another traveling type, and an older woman show interest in this class. Really, there are many ways to be clever and creative in one's way of life. I hoped they'd walked away with some form of cool new way of seeing life, and I was humbled they had managed to come out to see me on my first day of teaching classes...


The next day was a bit of celebration, as my class was to be held on the same day as that of a planned exhibition car show, set to headline the middle of the town. To prepare, Holly gathered up several fellow shop owners and had helium balloons posted at the front of each shop. The inside of her store suddenly became a large, festive, showroom....

Lovely balloons color up the ceiling...

A bevvy of attendants help with balloon decor...bck (l-r): Mary of Pinelands Folk Music and Basketry Center and Rachel, a local and one of my class attendees.
Front: Tess of Earth Angels shop, and Holly my host.

Once that was done, our official class was underway. I was there that day to teach a class on how to make a stuffed cloth ornament. The whole thing would involve sewing stuffing, and painting a specific cat ornament. Luckily, my students were creative, fun people willing to try something a little different. It was quite a fun day!

One of my class attendees, Rachel, started on her ornament...here she is cutting out the pattern from cloth...

Rachel, rocking the sewing skills....

Her stuffed cat doll ornament is ready to paint...

She and fellow ornament workshop-er Jennifer then proceeded to paint their ornament dolls, with some intruction....

While fun, the painting did take some time. At one point, I excused myelf to the bathroom, telling the students to "try to keep from getting paint on yourselves" before I got back. Which apparently, was the wrong thing to say. When I got back...well, you might notice some shenanigans...notice the cat whiskers on these two??

Lot of laughs, learning, and painting later, we have our finished ornaments!

I loved teaching this class! What fun and great people.

Our hostess, Holly (pictured in the middle of the above pic) was kind enough to field soap and art sales on my behalf while I taught. My "students" are a classically trained violinist and spinner (Rachel) and one of the shop artists (Jennifer) who also brought by the sweetest baby tutus she had made. It was wonderful knowing fellow artists were supporting my funny little classes.

And my Jersey stories STILL weren't over!
TOMORROW: Wild Cars and Woodwork...

Jersey Wild, Part I

My latest journey..see more of my Jersey host: www.jersey-made.com

It was time. There was a journey to be had. And yet, it was not quite as bouncy and storied a beginning as I would have liked. If you have been following this strange leviathan of a journey, then you will understand why this next part was filled with trepidation, like sticking one's toe into cold water.


I was headed off to New Jersey, you see. Normally, the idea of being road-bound was more excitement than I could take, but having survived my killer van incident, I was wincing more than smiling. And, since the thing was still in the shop 'til the last possible moment, I was making my hostess nervous as well.


Still, there was nothing to be done but hold one's breath and wait--I was Jersey bound no matter what: see, I was scheduled for five classes there. A caravan parade of all those "Jill of All Trades" skills that I managed to bring with me: Middle Eastern Dance, sewing, wood burning, herbalism....if I could just GET THERE.

But then, finally, that junker of a vehicle was released to me, and I was off. Mind you, the whole time I held my breath, sure that something was bound to unravel; I drove in high grandmotherly fashion for 20 hours, sluggishly moving--too safe--in order to keep my newly precious van out of harm's way. Even my brief reprieve in Virginia offered little relaxation; I was only half-way through my journey, then.

Slowly but surely, though, I'd gotten along. And suddenly, I was swerving down the ramp to a place called Mount Holly, a town I'd only seen in maps. I should probably note an unfair thing about myself here: I had typically stereotyped the place. What was New Jersey, if not big warehouse, smoggy, urban, bullet-riddled metropolis?  Boy, was I wrong.

I had known New Jersey's background as "The Garden State," and heard about it's storied past in farming and garden markets. How this translated into a foggy modern landscape I wasn't sure---there had to be some charm somewhere in there, right?

Indeed. Mount Holly, and it's other subset--Mill Race Village--was where I was headed and it wa,s unto itself, and amazing place. A step into Wonderland, a jaunt down olden Salem Streets, this place was somehow lost in time and space and into a spellbinding, cottaged little town that felt locked away from the
rest of the world.

The enchanted world of Mill Race Village!

A historically referenced place, every (and I mean EVERY) structure boldly displayed its 18th or 19th century pedigree. There were no modern brick buildings, no massive skyscrapers, no concrete behemoths, no gaudy giant warehouses around here. Nope, not in this place. Small cottages, renovated farmhouses, original old structures were part of the "Pinewoods" or "Piney" culture.  Mill Race Village stayed true to its roots...a large stream actually flowed underneath and around the village, the water once used to power the bygone mill industry there.

The town boasted, as all towns should, it's own firehouse, old fashioned ice cream place, lots of little, artsy businesses housed in old, enchanting cottages. The shopkeepers friendly--heck, everyone said hello. A diverse group of people lived here, in a dreamy, strange, enchanting landscape I'd never quite seen before.

My hostess, Holly Doyle, fits in easily. Readily polite and accommodating, I sense that she has a bolder interior, but one thing is for sure: she loves what she does, and the people around her. She is the proprietress of Jersey Made and, true to its name, it boasts a wide array of quality-hand made things by artisans, crafters, and farmers from all over New Jersey. The inside of the place is exquisitely charming, packed brim-full of various lovely items and sundries.  There are soaps, honeys, knitted things, art and mixed media, jewelry, antiques, hand made clothing, baby items...it's a massive display of Jersey talent.

The soap-making heart of mine loves these soaps!

The beekeeping part of me love this honey!

Homemade art, much of it one by Holly, herself.

I am buoyed by this collection of goodies. I will learn later, that her shop neighbors have cottages of equally fine things: The neighbor to the left of her embosses and embroiders names on charming items, and the neighbor the right of her--a couple actually--sells old time musical instruments, woven baskets, gemstones, incense, and interesting items from old-time living. I am in HEAVEN! There were other little antique stores, country prim stores, lovely restaurants, quaint diners, and more to appreciate, as well.

Very kindly, Holly has made me space to sell my clocks, soaps and honeys. People bought them throughout my stay.

My clocks, hung on the wall...

It's a three day affair, and so many funny and fine people stroll through, it's a kind and curious, dreamy experience. The whole town is a cornucopia of charm--there's even a gypsy wagon parked in the middle of town!

Though the first day was rather a dreary, rainy day...the rest of the story continues as a bastion of learning, laughing, and a car-painting bonanza.

And THAT, my lovelies, is the NEXT PART OF THE STORY...