resurrection (or how to be middle aged and new all at once).

this is a time lapse i made overnight of the resurrection plant i got aitor for christmas.

tomorrow i turn thirty five years old. neither of my parents made it to seventy. middle age.

i am hoping that this next year is better than years past. lots of wonderful things have been going on for me creatively, they always do. i am incredibly grateful for all of that - for my friends, for my work, for my collaborations and for my partner in life. and yet, it's hard to shake this feeling that my head has been full of goo since my parents passed away. it's as though things got cloudier and sleepier. don't get me wrong, i have a lot going for me but i miss being a little more awake and bright-eyed. and i miss engaging with you, friends and strangers from all over the dang place.

so...some questions to start of my thirty-sixth year on planet earth:

are blogs dead? (this is a pragmatic question)

what gives you clarity and/or focus in your life?

what's the best way to get rid of unwanted goo?

you replies are most appreciated.

happy valentine's eve.

spring training.

spring time means that this fern starts to grow again in leaps and bounds. it also means we can start training it up the kitchen curtain if we want to. i hope our summer subletters are equally charmed by this project.

forcing it.

last night, i found a big hunk of wood with new branches and tiny buds sticking out of it outside my building. it reminded me that spring is coming and that it is time to force branches, if i so choose. the other one (in the vase by patrick fisher) is a twig i found in december. it has been slowly making green buds ever since. i don't know what either of these branches might do - i am guessing i am going to see leaves instead of flowers, if anything at all. but it is kind fo exciting to watch.

if any pals out there have branches that they know will make flowers, i'd be happy to collect a few. i haven't successfully forced flowering branches since i was little.

in bloom.

anyone remember how that weird orchid i got went into flower right away? well, it has progressed. this things is amazing and weird. it flowers in a long fleshy tube covered in little yellow-green flowers. you excited to care for this thing, roisin?

mr. sweet potato head.

sometimes we barter food for computer repair. sometimes the foods we find could take us in a fight.

ps - thanks for the computer help, bunton.

homesteady.

in preparation for some more adventuring, the reverend and i have started going through our home, trying to pare down and tidy. with all the family shuffles and inheritances (pretty much objects) of the past year, it is no easy task for me. above is my effort to get ruthless on my vintage apron collection (keep an eye out at the upcoming spring trunk show). of course, ribbon took the apron pile as an invitation to assume her trademark 'sausage cat' posture all day.

in other homebound news, one of the weirdo orchids i brought home from last month's orchid show has gone all nutty. at first, i was excited at the prospect that it was sending out new bulbs (and thus didn't really take pictures), but it seems clear that this is the strange way in which this bulbophyllum falcatum flowers. it wasn't supposed to flower for a year! i feel so lucky. orchids are not often a quick gratification kind of plant. but bulbo is defying the odds and putting on a big show as a mere baby. i wonder what those wormy little bulbs are going to open into (anything?)

ah, the small joys of a shut-in.

sick daze (and split second appearances)

it seems like i have spent half of 2010 sick thus far. i can't imagine why i deserve this, but this weekend was filled with a fresh bout of something ghastly. i lay around, shivered and watched docudramas about early canadian settlers and their constant trials (like, cholera). thankfully, i just had to sleep a lot with my cat nearby and nobody tried any bloodletting on me. i should count myself lucky.

during my latest illness, i did find time to materialize like a phantasm in a couple of split second internet appearances. see if you can spot me in this excellent interview serena did about small venues, touring, and artistic understanding. don't blink, though, or you will miss me (don't worry, i really have nothing to do with this). i also appear momentarily and inconsequentially in the preview of rose bianchini's documentary about misha glouberman and how he likes to make people yell. they are both very great projects that i am honoured to have ever insinuated myself into.

oh, and up there are some aloe sprouts i discovered today when i was well enough to scale our couch, prune the plants and water them. they seem to be reacting to their recent repotting with gusto. i hope to have a large aloe shrub in no time. it is also nice to see any kind of sprouts this early in the year, especially when i feel so sickly and depleted. there is hope for everyone.

flower hour.

kayla gave me this big bouquet. i was testing out the new camera on these flowers and realized the 1980's gold found within fuzzy, saturated floral shots.

a celebration of parasites.

a trip to the southern ontario orchid society's annual orchid show is becoming something of a birthday tradition. this year it happened to fall right on my birthday. i love taking pictures of the show displays (even if it is a fight with the throngs at times). there is not much to say so i will let some images speak for themselves.

i ended up picking out three smaller orchids from the sales rooms this year. we are on a budget so i focused on value while trying to get a couple of new things. in order, they are some kind of weird crawling varietal called bulbophyllum falcatum, a phalenopsis in a new colour (to me) and something with thin spikes that i don't know the name of.

hopefully i will be able to provide for these new guys' needs. the last weird orchids i got fell victim to a string of house sitters and bugs. it was sad and made me take a brief moratorium on new orchids. but i am now gingerly reentering the game. wish me luck...

a moment at home and forced wanderings.

look! there are my most rugged orchids. they have moved from the misty bathroom to the bedroom for a brief moment (until the deadly radiators come on) so that we can contemplate them in the mornings while trying to lurch out of bed. i guess feeding them this summer had an effect. this is the most successful bloom i have ever lead them into and it has lasted months now. good work, guys.

i have been trying around the house, i really have. a few pictures and paintings have found spaces on walls. it's slowly coming together around working hours. but there is still a lot to do and a lot of rummage to tame. aside from a few vanquished corners, this place looks like a rubble heap.

i am thankful, therefore, for a weekly excuse to escape it when i go hang out with willy after school on thursdays. these engagements afford me a justified reason to wander around and see things like this in my neighbour's yard:

...i have a general envious respect for that particular neighbour's garden. it is full of beautiful flowers that seem to bloom in perfect sequence over the year - but it always looks kind of untamed as well. i wish i could have a yard. maybe someday.

on yesterday's cross-city after school walk, we also happened into bookhou on dundas street. i am ashamed to admit that i had never been inside it before (confessions of an overworked shut-in) because i have been a big fan of arounna's work for years.

her new collaborations with roisin (a new city of craft conspirator, too) under the name repeat studio are on my wish list, too. imagine using this yardage for a dress. or even just a bit in a quilt.

the shop is lovely. i especially like that they live upstairs and that there are kids in tow during shop hours. it may be a handful for arounna but willy liked making them laugh, too. and look at all the house motifs in her collection. there must be something in the air. i can't stop thinking about drawings of houses. i think i am working towards a whole village on one of my walls.

apartments have gardens, too.

years ago, i did a custom button order for east york community garden. when i asked them what their organisation did (picturing simply public gardening plots), it was explained to be that they aimed to expand the public's view of where food comes from. for instance, it was put to me, i could be growing tomatoes on my fire escape balcony. it was as easy as that for me. i started a container garden very soon after. win one for the community gardeners. i have been fortunate enough to continue living in places with balconies ever since (although some foods can even be grown indoors) and keep a container garden every year.

with all of our summer travels this year, the garden is rather slim. i mostly planted hardier herbs that i thought would survive a stream of subletters and house sitters. the rosemary certainly prevailed. i just did a major cutting today.

even when my only crop is a small bundle of herbs, i feel the empowering effects of apartment gardening. i wonder what all this will be cooking into.

also, if anyone nearby wants chives, i have a heap of them. i grow them but i can't eat them.

epiphetical happenings.

the one things that generated the most communication from our subletters on this past trip were the bathroom orchids. count 'em - twelve blooms on one plants, and another plant pushing out buds.

yup, things are pretty exciting around here.

how could i forget...

upon returning home, we discovered that the big fern that reuben gave us (for fear that it might attack his infant) had invaded our kitchen curtain during our leave of the city. i wanted to cut it back and restore order to our nook but instead kept leaving it one more day to ponder the tenacity of nature. now i can't cut it. so instead, an argument between organics and plastics is playing out across our window. or maybe i am being a pessimist. maybe they are mating. or canoodling.

i wish my pictures did it the right kind of justice.

potential in the form of seeding pots.

this is me trying to be useful in that craft blog kind of way. see? i am sprouting things (hopefully) and had to come up with some brilliant way to line all these seeding pots up on our narrow kitchen window sill. after some chin scratching and eyes darting around the apartment, i came upon an answer - the glass tops from old mason jars. i have a pretty big collection of these canadian classics and have even amassed a bunch of jarless tops just in case i happen upon topless jars (and also because we are a bit clumsy around here).

don't worry, this temporary usage won't ruin them. they are glass, after all.

and there you have it. domestic craft lady blog tip.

fungal fever.

today aitor is jealous because i managed to grow a mushroom before him (look closely). upon further inspection, i discovered little toad stool in two of my terraria. the picture above is as close as i could come to photographic proof, given my astigmatic ways. but it's exciting to know that spores are lurking around in the moss.

my other covered terrarium seems to be growing a couple of small alders out of the cones i put in. i had visions of huge trees busting out of a post-apocalyptic and abandoned glass jar...but maybe i am getting ahead of myself.

volunteerism.

today i went out on our little (yet highly appreciated) apartment deck to cut back the dead growth, throw out cracked pots and do some soil dispersing in preparation for spring gardening. guess what? i found some unsolicited growth peeking up under dead leaves. there were chives (above), thyme, and some strawberries! the two trees (one pine one maple) also pulled through the winter, but i expected this. the strawberry pot also hosted some other living things which might be a collection of trees. we will see when they start sprouting leaves. one way or another, i might have some plants to offer up in the coming months. first, i can't eat chives (they must have been planted by our subletters while we were on tour). i also don't think that twenty trees can grow in one pot together.

regardless, i was happy to encounter nature again in all her pluck and circumstance. it's reassuring to see other living things surviving a canadian winter with less effort than people seem to go through. now i am ready for the wind chills to taper off.

pteridomania, pt. 2.

a little update on the ferns, mosses and lichen in my life.

this whole project has involved a lot of experimentation and potential failure but i have been learning a lot thus far.

pictured above is a terrarium that began as an open-air moss experiment. well, until summer hits with all its sticky unpleasantness, my apartment is too dry to keep west coast mosses happy, so i scoured the homestead for something to cover it with. magically, this cheese coverer thing (thrifted with the intention of adding it to aitor's cabinet of curiosities) fit perfectly over the lip of the low dish i was using. and i mean perfectly. like they were made to be together. it kind of creeped me out.

since the addition of the cheese cover, all sorts of action has been happening. the ferns got happy, little plants and grasses are popping up, the live sphagnum is softening...i even spied a little mushroom (way too small for my macro-less camera to capture).

spring lives under glass.

pteridomania.

in researching the terraria, my readings wandered into historical context. that is where i found the connection between dr. nathaniel ward (inventor and namesake of the wardian case) and an ensuing pteridomania in britain and scotland. so what is pteridomania? it translates from latin roots to 'fern craze' and was one of a few results of dr. ward's glazed cases. having enclosed glass containers kept delicate plants (like ferns and, later, orchids) safe from the toxic mash of london's coal-fuelled air. one has to question how children were kept alive in this environment. presumably they were less novel than collecting ferns. during this mass hysteria, ladies and gentlemen of means took to the hills and meadows to scour then for ferns. they collected new species, grew their own from spores and eventually, for some hearty souls, got into the exciting territory of hybridization.

and how was the term coined? well, it came from this passage out of charles kingsley's 1855 book glaucus (note the other crafts that he claims were eclipsed by chasing the fern):

Your daughters, perhaps, have been seized with the prevailing 'Pteridomania'...and wrangling over unpronounceable names of species (which seem different in each new Fern-book that they buy)...and yet you cannot deny that they find enjoyment in it, and are more active, more cheerful, more self-forgetful over it, than they would have been over novels and gossip, crochet and Berlin-wool.

aside from threatening some natural fern stocks, this mania also bled its way into textile design, ceramics, glass wares, metal work and more. clearly there is much more reading to do. see? this is why i can't read fiction. there is too much weird real stuff to absorb. and i don't read very quickly.

experiments in terraria.

the moss plate was threatening to dry out. i knew this would happen. so yesterday, aitor and i had a brief outing on the hunt for the last couple of materials we needed to make a terrarium or two (namely charcoal and sphagnum moss).

i have been dreaming up terraria for while - actually, ever since aitor went on a plant splitting spree and gave me a small butterwort. he still has two thriving in his big wardian case while mine was pluckily struggling on our bathroom windowsill. so i started looking around for appropriate containers. that's when i found the one above, which was a serious thrift score. of course, you can't just plop a lone carnivorous plant into a big jar like that all alone. so a hatched a plan to collect some mosses out west (which also acted as a bid to bring a small part of the farm home with me). well, that plan snowballed, as plans are often wont to do, and i ended up with quite a bit of mossy materials.





in the end, the butterwort didn't end up figuring into the big glass jar at all. it's very easy to overcrowd these things and my maximalism really comes out in these situations. this little guy might be a lot to take in for the tastes of others, but i just see a million things to stare at. those stringy red things dance around when misted, which i can never get over.

with the remaining smaller bits and the butterwort, i put together these three smaller containers.



i imagine they are intended for some kind of wild alcoholic beverage (if you know, please fill me in) but they make perfect tiny terraria. i had orginally intended to give these ones to friends, but i think i need to hang onto them for at least a little while. after all, this is all experimental for me so i would it would serve me to observe the trials and successes of these little ecosystems.

after just one night, i can already see condensation on the glasses, the moss has perked up and the lichen have reverted to the softer forms that they had when i met them in british columbia; they had taken on a much more rigid demeanour when just lying around in the open of our dry apartment. the butterwort even ate some bugs that crawled out of the moss! let's hope it starts to look more like its happier brethren soon.



also, if anyone in the city has another large glass-topped jar or container that they feel like getting rid of, i would give it a good home. i have one big chunk of moss left with a couple of ferns growing in it and am trying desperately to keep it happy and healthy. my recent thrift store outings have yielded nothing of use. such is the plight of the impoverished artist who takes on opulent victorian hobbies.

although there is more extensive information on building your own terrarium elsewhere on the web, i will quickly run down what i did to make these:

a) washed and sterilized the glass containers.

b) filled the bottom with loose river rocks.

c) mixed in charcoal (i found it keeps the dust down if you rinse it first and lay it into the glass wet).

d) soaked the dried sphagnum moss and applied a healthy layer over the rocks.

e) placed moss samples in with gentle downward squeezes.

f) laid lichen-encrusted twigs and little pine/alder/cedar cones on top.

g) watered.

h) replaced lid.

i) marveled.

moss plate.

above is a collection of moss, ferns, cones and lichens that i brought back from the farm where my dad lived. aitor and i unpacked it all when i got home. he fed all the bugs that crawled out to his carnivorous plants (thus, facilitating the circle of life) and we arranged the moss onto our bigger serving plate. i wish we could just keep it like this. aitor and i both decided that we like it quite well. unfortunately, toronto apartments with hot water heat are far too dry in the winter time for moss so these samples are soon to be arranged under glass. but for now, we have this beautiful focal point in our living space. there are these long spikey red things that even dance when you mist them with water (which we do constantly to keep them happy). some of the lichens also unfurl (or maybe they furl) when misted. i'm pretty excited about this project and the fascination/calm it is already bringing us.