After a 50+ year hiatus. . .

 I was lucky enough to take 3 years of woodworking in high school.  Charles W. Woodward High School no longer exists due to a decreasing high-school aged population in the northern Washington D.C. suburbs, but I was one of the first classes to graduate from that school in 1972. Our wood shop was state of the art, but when I entered 10th grade it was inconceivable that a girl would want to take a class in it. After some humiliation, and my Dad's intervention, I was allowed in. 

At my tenth high school reunion, the teachers of that class told me how they had dreaded my taking the class. They also told me how wrong they had been. I, of course, was completely unaware of all of that. I just wanted to Make Things, and up until that point, I had been limited to things that were acceptable for girls to do. Paint. Draw, Sew, Knit. My father had always included me in his projects, appreciating that I had hands small enough to help him extract the spark plugs of his Karmann Ghia. But these interests were not common for girls. They were unbecoming.

That experience of wood shop. . .being instructed on the safe use of tools, including the table saw, band saw, radial arm saw, router, joiner, planer, and of course, the lathe. . .was pivotal for me. I loved the tools. Loved them. I loved what they enabled me to do, to build, to make. They also enabled me to dream of what I could make in a completely new way. 

It's been over 50 years since I saw a functional wood shop. So when Mark Wheeler, (see 10/29 post,) suggested that I turn a bowl in his shop, how could I refuse? The fear of failure, or worse, embarrassment, always lurks, but still. How could I not try? Mark is a competent and patient guide. I originally was going to call this post "The Power of Yes", but I'm pretty sure I'd be stealing that phrase from my youngest daughter. It remains true, though. While my current sensible self certainly questioned this particular "yes", I am so glad I risked this particular failure, to take this small path out of my comfort zone and the opportunity to work with another artisan who has the ability to understand a life that compels Making.

Unexpected Beech Leaves

Here's something I've noticed for the 4 autumns we've lived here. The beech trees, especially the smaller/younger ones, hold on to their leaves long after they are useful to them. Lots of trees do this. . . we had a Pin Oak in Idaho that didn't drop her leaves until spring. Delayed abscission in horticultural parlance. 

But the beeches are different this year. In past years, the leaves that hang on became a translucent white. We call them "ghost trees". They are a special kind of beautiful. This year, the leaves just turned brown. I'm wondering if the extreme drought is responsible for this? Then, the Plant Physiologist in me wonders if there are implications for their cold hardiness as a result of this lack-of-transition. Have they failed to shuttle down as many carbohydrates for wintering?

Well. We'll see. I am looking forward to the first snow, though the pragmatist in me says to be more circumspect. Ha. 

I had a Jasper Memorial hike this morning. The sky is blueblueblue, and the air was cold and still. My favorite kind of weather.

As in the grocery store, I like to pause for a minute or two, and contemplate my surroundings. The images don't do these middle-aged White Pines justice, but just looking up at them makes me realize how truly marvelous they are. What a gift.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Hemlock (turn right at the Hemlock) is like a dressed up ingenue, ready for the dance.

 And the grocery store? A construct that is so easy to take for granted. . .but once you start thinking about how many products, vendors, places of origin, sources of produce, and the management of it all; you quickly realize what a miracle of civilization our common grocery stores are.  

And just like that. . .

It feels like winter is here. We've put out the Christmas lights early because of an event that we're hosting this week, and I brought in a bunch of the hardier herbs, because even they will be challenged once it's below 28F or so.

Tuscan white beans, rustic bread, my garlic keeper and rescued sprigs of rosemary from the garden. We had a dusting of snow today. That was unexpected. But as I said to a friend, the first snow is magic. . .the last, not-so-much.

 My throwing has been way off here lately. I once again threatened to get rid of the wheel and all of its attendant tools. But I reviewed a Bill Van Guilder class that I had purchased (for the 4th time), and threw a tall pot today with almost 4 pounds of clay. I've destroyed the first three, but this one is not an embarrassment. Maybe for me, the fourth time's the charm. Images soon!