This time of year always takes me back to my first professional job after grad school. I worked in a city near Boston known for its intellectual, cultural, and ethnic diversity. The city library system was enlightened enough to have an anthropologist on staff, me.
Well, it's December, the shop is a mess. No pictures are allowed. Let's say that the carving shop in the greenhouse is full of projects getting the oil varnish rub treatment, spoons getting treated with mineral oil, and stuff that has to wait in line for finishing.
I admit that the sort of non complex carving that happens when I carve a small bowl is pretty alluring. No antsy detail. No pattern that needs to be followed. Just follow the will of the wood.
I was trying to use the light box to photograph some small bowls I had completed until Xenia decided that it should be a photo shoot for her
There comes a time in every young cat's life when they discover the mirror. Some flaunt their self-perceived glory in front of it and preen. Others run in terror at this malfunction of the rules of the universe. Then some see a mirror as an opportunity.
I am not known as a chef. To the best of my knowledge, none of my recipes will wind up in a prized cookbook
The bags containing this year's harvest of "Xenia's VSOP" ( Very Special Old Preserve) catnip are curing in the shop.
Sometimes having a small shop is a bit more than I can take.
I had never heard the term Mudlark, but I was one. I poked along the foreshore of the abandoned shipyard
The Cap'n admitted that I could tell a national naval ensign from a yacht club burgee, knew port from starboard and fore from aft. He was less sure about other things being that my father was an engineer - snipe.