Weather or not

I really haven't a lot to say about the weather. We have just a slice of the current storm going by. Wind, large rain bullets, and fifty degrees, though it's not pleasant out there. The wind is up to fifty miles per, so the entire scene is weird. When I hear a trash bin go by, I look to see if it's mine. 

The power has been iffy all morning. Never exactly going off, but setting off my battery back up for the computer. Eventually I gave in and shut down. When I went to make lunch, I see the electronic clocks in the kitchen fared poorly.

My towel flags are on the downhill side now. There are almost 150 around the world, doing their job. I am pleased for them. That many towels only mean 75 kitchens, but that's good. 

With luck, I can be done and have the loom battened down for the move. Then I believe I'll try a pop-up venture that's been on my mind a while. I do need to talk to the gallery owner, but nothing will happen before fall, so plenty of time.

I need to make some sample fabrics this summer from the sort of thread now available to me. Gone are the days of my pick of the gleanings from any sweater factory or dye house in the East. But I still see wild and crazy in my head, and I can make it work.

Here is a garment I lifted from Pinterest, and have no attribution except that and its negative number. Too much fabric for me, but an example of putting so many things together.

I'll see if Diane would represent me on an "if come" basis. Not even a dedicated space, but silly things here or there, on a pop up basis. Now you see it, now you don't.

It is what it is; we are what we are

Stephen Colbert said last night, concluding his monologue, "Donald Trump isn't committing a crime, Donald Trump is a crime." The sun is shining today, the world is relatively good, and so you see how I drifted into a post title.

What do I have to talk about? Almost nothing. Have you read the news this morning? But, it's out of our control. It's like the Yellowstone geyser. When will it blow, not if.

So, here in my little corner of Boston Township, USA, my goodness, you all sure do like the red that I already decided will be the only red I will use in future. 

My new weaving career began with towels I intended to give away. I bought and wove several colors, including a red that appealed--on my computer's screen.

It was a screeching color, and I will not confess where the first towels are now. My new red is called, by the red namer, cerese. It makes me wonder if there are vials named red, green and blue locked up somewhere, like a meter and a kilogram are perfect, precise, and locked away.

I don't see my cat first thing in the morning. Sometimes I hear Laura leave at 6:30. That's nice; I turn over and go back to sleep until 8:00. I get up, fill Toby's food and water, clean his cat box, and then take care of my breakfast. 

Mr. Cat may appear by then, or I go looking. It's so big here! I look on the sofa. Then I look in the studio. Studio it was today, as it has been most of the winter, on the bench, by the register.

That's the next color, down there on the floor, periwinkle. I assure you, there is no standard periwinkle locked in a vault, but this is a nice rendition. I'm also amused at this little scenario.

The box of bobbins originated about where Toby's back end is on my bench. That means he pushed them far enough along to jump on, then pushed the rest of the way off. Any further retribution he considered, for being on his bench, seemed to be put off until this morning. Now it's 1:30 p.m., and his morning has yet to commence. The bobbins are cleared away and put where they really belong.

And finally, here is where I live now:

Laura has the master, the living room has a sofa and two chairs. Bedroom #2 has the loom, Bedroom #3 has me.  It was fine for three people, or two and a loom. But for one, come this June, way too much. 

The final choice of floor plans isn't in yet, but one bedroom units are pretty much the same. Living room, kitchen, laundry room, bathroom, bedroom. So I downloaded a typical plan:

Pretty close to perfect, don't you think! And going on half as much. Mr. Cat and I will be in pig heaven. I'll pass on the cottage garden, but all the shabby garden concrete decorations will come, and all the spiffy ones, too.

Another winter storm

There is a storm warning for tomorrow for winter weather, ice, snow, freezing rain, from the time tomorrow begins, at midnight, until the temperature rises above freezing tomorrow afternoon. The high temperature will be thirty eight degrees. 

There I am in northeastern Ohio. In the blue belt of rain is a weather symbol I cannot interpret. A couple of chicken feet. Are they attached to a chicken, head first in a gutter overflowing with  icicles?  I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt and calling it sunshine emerging from freezing rain.

There is so little to tell you about, aside from slippery slush as I came home from cards today. I told Laura she should salt or risk a fall in the morning. She came in and said she saw what I meant.

Nancy had a double pinochle today. Woo-hoo. We still lost.

I'm ready to start again with towels. Here are the first three dozen plus I will begin with.

The colors are back, left to right, cerise (red), pumpkin, cayenne (an orange/brown spicy). In the front are four cream and two plum. I'll start tomorrow sending emails. I'm not going anywhere, until the sunshine melts the chickens out of the gutter.

Considerations

My Visa bill came last week. That and the electric bill come monthly to my mail box. I try to do as much as possible on line, but I still need the Visa in my hand in order to look over and reconcile the charges.

This morning was the day to figure out how I had come to spend so much money in January. Sadly, they all rang true save one. CondeNast NY for ninety dollars. I was changed from "associate" to "associate" until we hit on it. The New Yorker. Yes, I'd done that. Actually, for the second year in a row.

I grumble about this to my friends and they grumble back. I'm adding you all to the list of grumblees; I will not do this next year!

I read everything on line. Everything! A few years ago those annoying pop-ups began. You have read three of five free articles so far this month. Of course there are more than one reporter and one newspaper in this world, so I would see who else had covered the story.

Sadly, I suppose, New Yorker is far more than journalism. It's commentary helps me sort out all the facts. But then, the essays, the cartoons and poetry! And I am caught by the pop-up, and subscribe another year.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, or a free newspaper. That pop-up has got me for the Times, the Post, and even my local rag, The Reekin' Journal! I don't need an annual subscription when I can be intelligent about selecting another free article or not. I generally don't read for another grain of truth. I read because I am addicted, since I read "Spot walked to school with Dick and Jane", and the list of ingredients in Cheerios. 

A melted ice bird, taking off from my drive the other day!

Last week's flowers still look good, so we didn't buy a new bunch.

And now I will return to researching how to play Pinochle. Nancy and I are loosing awfully, and the guys could not contain glee last week. I know it sounds like whining, but you play the cards you're delt. 

That was one of Greg's many power meld hands last week. He eventually outbid Nancy's run of diamonds, and we all know, if your run is not trump, only the marriage counts.

We've met five times this year. They are four hundred and five points ahead. Today I am going to study power pinochle strategy.

After breakfast

Lynn and I went to breakfast today for the purpose, after a good long chat, of raising our spoons to February being on the plus side of gone! I took a detour through the township to take some sunny pictures, like the brightness that struck us when we left. 

It did not all work out that way. I decided to go by the old Black Farm, a National Park Service property in our Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Yesterday, in a comment on Tom Stephenson's blog, I indulged my opinion of waste in my backyard by my federal government. I even called it evil. It's not fair to use another blog this way, so here it is again, on my blog.

This property is among the hundreds purchased by CVNP back in the seventies, to flesh out the park being established. The properties were purchased by eminent domain; some transactions friendly, many adversarial. As the director of the park told me, when I worked for my township from 2003 until a year ago, the pleasure of a family's outing to the park will not be increased by knowing more than 450 families lost their homes to the creation of this park.

I believe it's good to know, so I occasionally revisit it. 

Here are current pictures of the Black Farm.

The horse barns. I am not ready to walk that field so here it is from the road. All the roof vents are broken. That is the most to be distinguished in this picture, so, moving on,

An outbuilding. The bottom door and the loading door above have stood open for two or three years.

The main barn. Boards have been off and downspouts on the ground for two or three years.

Another outbuildng and the pasture fence: When I stopped last, a year or so ago, the fence was intact and a lock hung in the gate. Now the rest of the gate in on the ground.

The home. The park's property manager has renamed this place Briar Rose, because of the unmanaged vegetation. In truth, I don't find that either amusing or truthful. It is the Black Farm, hundreds and hundreds of acres, spreading from this road it fronts back to the next township road behind it. 

The park purchased this farm, and hundreds more, because they had the money. But not the money to maintain the properties, or return then properly to nature.  Instead of saying, "Oh, Briar Rose. What a shame!", they should return upkeep money to this and to all the national parks.

The National Park infrastructure maintenance is more than eleven billion dollars in arrears. Parks are closing areas to the public for safety reasons. The administration is telling them to charge and use entrance fees for up keep. 

In my PollyAnna mood on stepping into the sunshine this morning, here is a happy picture of blue skies and melting ice in the marsh.