Holidays in Virginia

Due to my oversized midsection, a plane ride home to Colorado was unfeasible, so we spent the holiday mingling with friends, tramping through the backwood bramble, overeating beef stew, and camping out at the Hampden Sydney post office to watch some Christmas basketball.

Richmond Handmade Holiday II

Here are some images of my booth at the Handmade Holiday event in Richmond, Virginia. It was so nice to be a part of such a well organized and professional event. I met some local vendors and was really impressed with a lot of the booths that were there. Bill and Kay came to visit me from Charlottesville (and also to steal Dave away for awhile so that he didn't have be my male model all day). I sold my usual ties, headbands, purses, and the latest addition to my repertoire, my Yoyo necklaces, which come in different colors and formations.

Once Upon a Time

Years ago I was in a little band called Paris in Peril with two (sometimes three) of my really good friends. I recently opened up our website and myspace page and I was instantly brought back to those cold, cold, cold winter days practicing at the Alpert Street house. For at least a year I was unable to listen to our tracks, they were small reminders of how tough I thought I was back then, mixed with a little more understanding about how I was truly susceptible. We had a lot of fun making music though, and I miss seeing those guys now.

Creations

Here are some things that I have made in the past 6 months. The doll I made for a snail-mail creative exchange in which I was invited to participate, however I have yet to be sent a present from a stranger. The dress I made for our friends' Brigid and Bryce's wedding. And the skirt I only wore a couple of times before my stomach grew and grew until I just couldn't pull off that waist line any longer.

Nicholas the Giant

Driving down the back roads of Keysville Virginia, I spotted a unicorn in a distant field. We pulled up to the house where it belonged and the giant ran the length of the fence while braying at our truck. We found his caretakers in the barn where they housed a herd of rabbits, miniature horses, and miniature cows. Nicholas, the "Mammoth Donkey", was by far the largest pet they owned and had only recently been acquired. The sweet couple told us that Nicholas had brought their farm lots of attention, so they didn't seem surprised when Dave asked if he could take Nicholas' portrait. Nicholas, not used to doing still portraiture, was perhaps a bit too active for Dave's camera, however I was able to capture a few pictures of this unique fellow.

Richmond Handmade Holiday

I am thrilled that I have been accepted to participate in the Richmond Craft Mafia's Handmade Holiday on December 12th. It also means that I have a lot of work to do up until that date. I always have the urge to start new projects for craft shows, but I may need to just stick with what I know (with the exception of a couple of surprises, of course).

Museums

Richmond has become our weekend getaway. Saturday afternoon Dave dropped me off at the Virginia Historical Society Museum where I spent a couple of hours learning about Virginia history and other historical oddities. Across the way from the history museum is the Virginia Museum of FIne Arts, where I once again roamed the halls of the modern art section. The amazing thing is that both places are free and open to the public. I am not opposed to paying for a museum experience, however I have found that when I visit these two places I am more at ease when I walk around, focusing on a few pieces rather than hastily regarding lots of works in a single visit.

Wilson Nature Trail

Behind the brick buildings of Hampden Sydney there are circles of trails. I have to admit I was a little nervous exploring the area by myself, not only because of the concentration of trees, but mostly because I am not sure if it is officially hunting season or not, or if that even matters to those looking for deer.

Ten minutes into my hike I got into the spirit of the landscape; leaves the size of small blankets fell from thirty feet above, the cadence of an animal pacing through the trees.





I came across some woodland life. Three elegant and dignified labradors welcomed me at the top of a hill. They were running freely, without master, or friend. I was startled by a HS boy running through the woods, and then by a deer dashing between trees.

Music in the Halls

This is the hallway to Dave's office where I sometimes sit and pluck away at the keys. I have a trick to making the music sound acceptable in a gallery this size; it is a fabrication of sound I have employed since I was a young girl playing my grandmother's piano in our living room. I recall those keys so that when I get into a rhythm and hum some non-sense tune along with the notes, I am no longer where I am, I am everywhere I have ever been at once.

Can You Tell?

I just started a new job as the full-time,short term Spanish teacher for the public middle school in Farmville. I know, I know, I don't speak Spanish, I speak French, but apparently the two languages are similar enough for me to be a quasi expert at the beginner level. Though I have slipped in a few "oui, ouis" instead of "si, sis", the kids are relatively forgiving. In fact they seem much more interested in my personal life than any -ar verbs that they should be conjugating. I thought I had done a fine job at hiding my belly bump from the students, but I have been asked in almost all of my seven classes: "Ms. Glasserkey, are you having a baby cause your belly is popping out?" One of my darling sixth graders told me that he is now going to be my protector by making sure that I don't drink soda or get sick.

Charlottesville Farmers' Market

We have gone to the Charlottesville Farmers' Market twice now, and I am impressed by the size, selection, and popularity of the market. The Waterpenny Farm is our favorite place to get tomatoes because the scarlet gems taste just as succulent as they look. I have been making lots of gazpacho, but mostly we just eat the fruit as is. There is nothing like a perfect tomato with no bling. (The gal next to Dave is not me...yet!)

The unattached cantaloupe

Charlottesville folk take their farmers marketing so seriously that they coordinate their outfits to match the fruits and veggies that they don as accessories.

Curtis, the "Dahlia Man", and our friend Bill have been bemoaning the dismal state of the Dahlia season. Curtis says that his flowers are usually much taller, fuller, and abundant by now, but he still manages to show up to market with his lovely few, so delicately displayed.

All roads are back roads here,

but I am still in search for the

more hermetic spaces with cairn

road signs and head stones in

the vegetable garden.

Now living in the Acoustic Shadow,

where dusk to dawn is perennial,

I hear the mobs though their

lips are tied together.

The lint of American antiquity,

with its aftertaste of

hardtack corn chowder,

is unchartered land.

Maps trace routes, courthouses,

slain fields. Fields of mortality

that nurse on the thoughts of

nation and sovereignty. Thoughts of

brotherhood and paradise.

Fields so generous each of our ancestors

could assemble under the

family flag and still have room

left to crawl.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Well imagine our surprise when we opened the local paper and this was the headline story. For those of you who don't know, we live on Abilene Rd., and, oh yeah, I'm pregnant.

Richmond

I went on quick day trip to Richmond with no real agenda. Last year the New York Times did a write up on Richmond where they highlighted a neighborhood called "Carrytown". The author wrote about its up and coming restaurants, vintage boutiques, and all around hipness. I had no directions to this area, I just trusted that my inner vintage votary radar was operating at top capacity. I went straight toward the river, took a right on Main Street and then a left soon there after and before my eyes, like the yellow brick road, was Carry street, lined with shops of vintage clothing, coffee, used books, and homemade ice cream. Next time I will pursue my other passion: history. I just didn't have enough time to do the Confederacy White House Tour.

Sunday Espresso Outing

Our town is a quiet sleepy little place most of the time, but especially on Sundays. And Sundays have always been the day of coffee and leisure for me, one of which can not be had in our dear Farmville. So the past two Sundays Dave and I have drove to near by towns to seek out their coffee situation. Last Sunday we went to Lynchburg and found this great place in the heart of the historic district called the Starlight Cafe.

After breakfast we walked to the James river and followed the path to Percival Island. I am still getting used to the riches of green that occlude any sense of direction or feeling of knowing what lies beyond. We found this sweet doe along the trail. I didn't use my zoom to take this picture, she just trusted my goodwill.

Just as we were heading back across the long wooden bridge to Lynchburg we were fascinated by a large group making its way down towards the James. We asked what they were doing and they told us there was going to be a baptism in the river for two young men. We asked if we could watch, we'd never seen such a thing.

Losing Energy

The energy substation down the street went

up in smoke—feathery tar cloud, like

the congregation of gnats at dusk

on the Platte River; a tornado of dependency.

Dark enigma, we covet you. To watch

our movies, check

our mail, look at

our faces in the mirror.

But kids make do tonight.

They light matches. They whisper to siblings

about the goblins who hide in the silhouettes

of trees. And kids will go to bed early tonight.

The sky, not the halogen

will tuck them tight between the sheets.

Parents' projected shadows on the screens of the hallway walls

loom large—Mom’s hands monumental, Dad’s chest

a mesa.

No sound machine, no alarm clock, only the voices

of neighbors can transmit into the room like

sound bytes

from another time.

Thinning

Lucinda told me that it was time to thin the garden. I resisted and fought. How could I pick the things that I had been coaching to grow before they had reached their full potential? Little scrappers, young mercenaries. I went to our plot and pinched their tiny heads right out of the ground. Here is a picture of the pocket-sized salad that I ate for dinner that night.

Ice Cream, Wine, Cheese, Salami, Friends

What epitomizes a place? Is it the landscape? The architecture? The people? I spent all day with my friend Sara, who is such a big part of the feeling of Fort Collins for me. Everything was amplified that day from the fact that next time I visit the town, she will no longer live there. We rode the rusty tandem bike over rail-road tracks and up dusty hills. We sat by the river till we couldn't stand just watching it pass us by, so we got in. We laid out a white linen table cloth and enjoyed our wine, cheese, and salami. We took pictures, promised to be forever pen-pals, and laughed at the boy floating down the river on his inner tube who said to us in his pubescent crackling voice, "Hey guys your bike is SICK!" When Dave met us he brought his usual calm and enthusiasm that completes any warm afternoon picnic in late May. But no time spent with Sara is complete without a trip to the sugar factory, so we packed up the bike and headed to Kilwin's for one last yummy cone (or large malt shake if you are a boy). This was the perfect way to say good-bye to both Sara and the Fort Collins that I know with her there.

Community Garden

My friend Lucinda and I have a plot at a community garden. She is a bona fide garden coach and she willingly puts up with my nascent planting skills and my naive excitement over each new sprout. Inspired by the aesthetics of Rosalind Creasy's Edible Salad Garden, we have planted a variety of different lettuces (arugula, merveilles des quatres saisons, spinach), plenty of vegetables, and one corner of the garden is reserved for cutting flowers. No picnic is complete without a lovely flower centerpiece.

Finespun

Not so long ago

you were teeming with green.

I pulled your able branches to my mouth and

baptized your leaves with

my teeth. Staunch petiole, bitter bite, and still wholesome.

But you ran away, flew the coop, left us all wiping

our chins on your cousins and aunts.

Spare, and not like you.