Eaton Canyon Gnarly Trees

20080215_eatoncyn2 Click to see this photo's flickr page

Last week I met my art buddy Karen to trade some arty stuff and to get out, take photos and paint. We met at Eaton Canyon, lured by the thought of seeing the stream running and some new growth from the rains the week or two before. We decided, quite daringly (cough), to cross the stream and settled in after that treacherous adventure in a shady grove and painted. The trees were all so very lovely in that gnarly-tree sort of way. And, of course, you know how I love drawing gnarly trees.

I hadn't been on the trails at Eaton Canyon before, so was curious about them. And the weather was just too pleasant to pass up a return trip. So, a few days later, my guy and I went back to hike. No strolling around in the park, uh-uh! We took the trail that looked most like it would head UP and HIGHER (For the record, this would not normally be my first choice. I'd be all, "Whew! Hey, look at these gnarly trees! Why don't you go up, and I'll sit here and draw!"). I think it was the Walnut Canyon trail. The painted text on the signs have all worn off. The description on the website ("...This is the "equestrian trail" notorious for its steep, narrow, dusty, shadeless, winding path...") sounds like what we hiked. It was over an hour round-trip; we stopped at a somewhat unexpected grassy picnic area just below where the Toll Road starts and decided that was plenty ambitious for the first hike of the spring. The nice thing about steep hikes is that you gain altitude so much faster and get quicker rewards in the views, as you go higher [Right. That made sense]. And of course, now, all sorts of parts of our legs are feeling so much more toned than before.

Geh!

Along with the really great trees, there's lots of foliage and shades of green goin' on right now. When the blossoms start, it'll be worth another trip back.

Another gnarly tree:

20080215_eatoncyn1 Click to see this photo's flickr page

and more photos here.

Wouldn't that be nice?

20080211_venicelibrary Click to see this photo's flickr page

Killing time at the library in Venice.
Venice, California, not Italy. [sigh]

One too many

20080208_bottleopeners Click to see this photo's flickr page

... bottleopeners, people. [What were you thinking? OMG!]

In combining our two kitchens, all these different bottle openers have taken refuge in one of the drawers. Or, maybe it was just a few, and they've multiplied without any sense of shame or self-control, nasty little buggers.

And don't even get me started on the corkscrews that are lurking.

It is SO Friday! Sounds like we're in for a sunny, warm weekend out here. Yeah! Have a good one out there. xox

Stringing you along

20080207_string Click to see this photo's flickr page

The thing about every day things, for me, is that every thing - - EVERY thing - - that is manufactured or assembled, had to be designed. It might not always be elegant, but these things had to be mindfully and deliberately designed, so they could be manufactured (can you hear it?: Ka-Chung! Ka-Chung! Ka-chung! The big, loud machines of industry, churning out stuff..).

You have to remember that I'm a product designer, so all the little details are things that I know someone, possible another designer or engineer or artisan, had to consider and create. Every once in a while I get lost in reverie, spending the time to look at the little details - zipper pulls, knobs, hooks, fasteners - and get lost in looking at someone else's work. My guy says I read more labels (especially food. Hello?! Counting calories?!) and get lost in details more than anyone he knows.

Of course I do. It's what I do.

Little rubber stamps

20080206_rubberstamps Click to see this photo's flickr page

I'm nothing if not consistent. I found a duplicate box of these little lettered rubber stamps, exactly like another set that I have on hand. I must have really liked the idea of them, huh? The letters are about 1/4" tall.
Does anyone want these?

Optimism

20080202_seeds Click to see this photo's flickr page

There's a saying that good gardeners are real optimists. You have to have faith that something you plant will eventually grow and blossom, or decades later, bear fruit.

In going through things from the last move, I discovered a squishy envelope. I rolled my eyes and thought, "OhGod, more swap fat-quarters that I never got to" (a fat-quarter is, basically, a quarter yard of fabric that quilters use and often trade). I checked inside and discovered these seeds! I'd had plans to grow poppies (corn red), Bachelor Buttons and blue flax, in the garden in spring of 2003.

Well, 2003 was five years, one divorce, one 40th birthday, two 5K runs, and two moves ago; a fairly good chunk of life. The envelope says the seeds are viable for a few years, if kept in a cool, dry place, which I think they were. I'm not inclined to use the seeds, actually. For the $5 I spent, I think I can spring for new seeds (no sense in setting myself for possible disappointment if these old ones never germinate! Aiee!). But, it's a good reminder and nudge to get some planters and some potting soil, repot the old plants so they can grow deeper and stronger this spring, and go through catalogs for some nice flowers and herbs and who-knows-what-else (did your eyes get wide with the possibilities, too?) to hope for, for the spring and summer. So, I'll get new ones, but doesn't the texture of these look great? Yum.

The promise of new sprouts and growth ... mmm