Chicken Foot* (*-note)

So somehow I managed to leave the discussion of St. Croix Agrifest 2014 without mentioning my absolute obsession from that event. I am completely fascinated by and totally enamored with...wait for it...the chicken tractor. Yes, I said the chicken tractor.
Perhaps you, like me had never heard of such a thing.  Or even better, perhaps your brain is conjuring up a picture of a rooster driving a John Deere.  But no! A chicken tractor is in fact a system rather than a vehicle.  Every evening as I was leaving the fairgrounds I had to pass the chicken tractor. It was actually an open work mesh pen or enclosure with no floor and roosts built for the chickens.  I would pass this apparatus every evening as darkness was setting in on my way off the fairgrounds. It was home to several of the best looking, fittest, chunkiest chickens I have ever seen.  I marveled at
how plump and soft feathered they appeared when all our local chickens look a little tougher and
more sinewy.
And on the final evening when I slowed down to read the educational sign attached to the chicken tractor, I discovered the reason for their fitness was the design of the gizmo.  It was in fact designed to give them a better life. The fact that it has no floor allows the chicken farmer to move the enclosure from place to place so that the chickens will have fresh green grass, grubs etc. to scratch around in.
Oh, and it was called the chicken tractor because the group of chickens within the coop performed many of the functions of the tractor – aerating the soil, keeping the grass down, and obviously fertilizing the area.

So here's to the chicken tractor, and to the many innovations and ideas that changed hands and heads during this year's Agrifest!

Chicken foot*(*note):  if I wanted to get crazy with the metaphors as I am wont to do, I might say something here about what the chicken tractor means in the big picture. I have two theories about why this thing fascinated me:

1.   Perhaps despite being able to see the larger realm, we're each given our own parcel of life, with boundaries real or imagined. The trick is to make the very best of what we've been allotted, & improve it if we can.  Or conversely…
2.  Perhaps some of us are just waiting for the moment when the coop is lifted and we can make a break for it!

Too Long at the Fair

Sea glass pendant on 'bamboo wrap' band--the big seller at AgriFest this year

(See more at fromthecjewelry.com)

So the St. Croix Agrifest is over for another year. I followed a dump truck full of fair remains up Queen Mary Highway  this morning, & every time he hit the brakes, a balloon would fly out of the bed of his truck & drift away. Late yesterday you could tell things were winding down. Babies & toddlers were cranking & whining. Happily exhausted crowds flowed by with glazed unseeing eyes.

The slamming of legs on folding tables rang from several vendors' booths, & the family members who had set up supportive encampments behind booths bagged their sling chairs & grudgingly left their posts. Most had been there two or even three days of the fair, each covering the 'sales floor' for the vendor at some point while they went off to stretch legs, to buy the local delicacies made specially for this event, or just to see who & what they could in those short breaks.

As we took practiced shortcuts to avoid the inevitable traffic snarls of vendors trying to bring their vehicles onto the grounds to haul away displays, a gorgeous glow arose from behind the plant display building--a lovely sunset to this 43'rd annual event. Sitting in traffic on the short ride home, my mind ran to ideas for new designs for next year's fair. Visions of larger, hoop style earrings, new charm bracelets & anklets slowly paraded by my mind's eye. Despite having created well over 100 new pieces during the 3 days of the fair, I seriously considered unpacking my tools when I got home... & then I lapsed into a sofa-coma & left that for another day.
See you next year!

Before the parade passes by

Greetings from day two of  St. Croix AgriFest 2014!  The day started out rainy and gray but ended up
as colorful as a rainbow, with every possible shade of madras plaid on the many family members that went by.

Quadrille dancers in full regalia--swishing plaid dresses  & matching starched head wraps with white eyelet trim--paraded by one after the other, bound for the stage and a lively performance.  And I survived the second full day of torture, watching patrons go by burdened with bags and boxes full of gorgeous & colorful tropical plants that I would most assuredly have spent every penny I have on, if anyone had been foolish enough to watch my booth.

Just some of what I made in preparation for the fair...see more at  fromthecjewelry.com

Eager culinary students met in the Innovative tent in the morning to compete in a test of culinary skills and knowledge.  And speaking of eager, Stephen O'Day and his famous donkey Eeyore came by, giving happy children rides through the fair.  Those not brave enough to ride walked along, gesturing excitedly.  One little boy just stood stock still, gaped at the furry, friendly beast & squealed.

Even bigger squeals came from adults running into people they hadn't seen for years. Agrifest is always a source for homecoming and a lot of people come to visit their families during this special time of year.  Some people come home for Cruzan Christmas carnival and some people come home for Agrifest... and some people come for one and stay through the other!  There were college students home on break, running into old classmates, schoolchildren running into current or former teachers,  and just a general whole lotta catching up going on.  I must've overheard the question how's mommy? About two dozen times today.

Also eager and enthusiastic were the two impromptu interns that helped me sell today, Naomi and

D'Janee.  They pronounced my work their favorite at the fair and when I commented that their clothes even matched the colors of the booth and that they could be spokes models... they took me seriously.  They pitched to passersby in the street for about 20 minutes before their enthusiasm flagged and they moved on, but I was very happy to have them there. They were bright and sunny and despite their age (probably 11-ish) would be an asset to any company lucky enough to have them.  Thanks girls!

Agrifest-A-Palouza!

It is that time of year again!  This long weekend is Agrifest & St Croix has looked like an anthill all day, with everyone scurrying around corralling their products, plants, piggies, preserves, pickles & in my case. PENDANTS.

See more on www.fromthecjewelry.com 

I've been working like crazy prepping & primping, & I can say without equivocation or reservation I've got an array of some of the most beautiful sea glass pieces I've ever had in one place at one time.

From the C 2013 Agrifest booth

From the C 2014 Agrifest booth

This year I'm in exhibitor booth number 3, almost directly behind the Ag Department offices. I hope you get a chance to stop in, to say hi & let me know how you're enjoying the Fair.

Moko Jumbies at the Fair

Independence Day(S) by Lea Ann Robson

So today we’re in the midst of our second day celebrating independence.  True to our love of excessive holidays here in the islands, we celebrate TWO versions of independence days, one on July 3^rd and the Continental states’ version on July 4^th. 

Granted we’ve been somewhat justifiably accused of ‘padding’ & fabricating holidays, but on the other hand there are a couple Federal holidays that really make little sense here—Columbus day comes to mind.  Hard to dedicate a day of praise to a guy who in effect invaded your shores (we did kind of hand him his lunch though).  Presidents’ Day is another quandary, given that as a Territory we are unable to vote in Presidential elections.  We fix it by using that weekend to throw our annual AgriFest (see earlier posts) & invite people from all the islands & the mainland to see how the ‘island half’ lives it up. 

And we have a couple of holidays that make sense only from our perspective:  Hurricane Supplication Day & Hurricane Thanksgiving.  The first occurs at the beginning of storm season & is celebrated by the sending up of prayers for peace & tropical weather inactivity.  The second falls in November & is dedicated to giving thanks for surviving yet another storm season (Note:  In 1995 after I lost a business to Hurricane Marilyn, I thought I could forgo the second holiday but stood corrected by a local friend who educated me otherwise.  We’re giving thanks for life, not for possessions, so thanks I gave.) 

So, while you might be tempted to think declaring two independence days is a bit over the top & just some extension of the relaxed island attitude, there is an important reason to celebrate both days here on St. Croix.  You know all about the Fourth, so here is the reasoning behind the Third:  July 3^rd represents Emancipation Day on St. Croix.

In 1847 King Christian of Denmark decreed that all Danish West Indian enslaved people would be free within twelve years.  On July 2^nd 1848, the oppressed people on St. Croix decided the twelve year projection was eleven years too long & that drastic measures were necessary.  Led by General Bordeaux (a.k.a. General Buddhoe), they massed in Frederiksted on the West end of St. Croix & threatened to burn the town (especially the government buildings) to the ground if swift freedom was not granted to them.  Danish Governor-General von Scholten did a much quicker risk/reward calculation than modern politicians seem capable of handling, realized the numbers & potential bloodshed, & on July 3^rd, 1848 from the battery of Fort Frederik issued a proclamation that freed the enslaved Danish West Indians.  His decision was unpopular with the island’s plantation managers, & three days later he was forced to resign his post.  He was exiled to Trinidad while a provisional government was put into place & Spanish soldiers were dispatched from Trinidad to prevent further bloodshed & unrest (though termed ‘the Bloodless Rebellion,’ that wasn’t completely accurate).  Despite this attempted rally by the landowners’ version of an ‘old boys’ club,’ there was no going back & freedom, once granted could not be rescinded.

Each year the anniversary of Emancipation Day is commemorated by large groups of islanders who walk the 15.4 MILES from Fort Christavern to Fort Frederik.  They start before dawn but as July is definitely NOT the coolest month in STX & given the advanced age of some of the participants, this is a real sacrifice & fitting tribute to the bravery & strength of their ancestors. 

Here’s to Independence and however you choose to celebrate it.  This year fireworks will return to the pier in Frederiksted, & we’ll be there, once again looking up.

Darwin & Do-Overs, by Lea Ann Robson

Twenty years ago I hit St. Croix like a trop storm, all full of random energy going every which way.  I had just turned thirty & was coming from a type A job (Claims Rep) in the type A capital of the free world—Maryland/D.C.  I had adapted to that life fairly well despite being, in actuality, about a type G minus. 

 

So when our pipe-dream became (against all odds) a reality & we moved to St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands, I made that landing complete with a shiny resume’ chock full of declarative statements & action verbs, a suitcase full of power suits, & several pairs of very controlling control-top pantyhose.

 

Despite a Liberal Arts degree & multiple, seemingly unrelated majors & minors, I had only worked at one profession since I graduated & so my paper pedigree appeared much more focused & driven than the actual me.  So I hit sort of a paradise catch 22.  I needed a paycheck, so I sought jobs my resume’ said I was suited to (pun intended) & papered all the local insurance agencies with my applications.    

 

I tried to ignore the long, gaping looks & sniggering reactions to my forthright self, my linen-textured resume’ & the aforementioned control-tops.  In twenty-odd offices I was variously ignored, tolerated, placated, blown off, or met with ringing silence comparable to what a kangaroo might encounter upon trying to hail a taxi or order a latte. 

 

So, having been a lifelong fan of Darwin, I took a step back, sized up the preposterousness of my approach, & calculated how best to adapt & survive in this new environment.  At last seeing it through the eyes of those I had approached, I finally laughed at what they found funny—this typing-paper-white woman dressed in ridiculously inappropriate-to-the-heat garb, presenting a piece of paper that might just as well have stated “I have no idea where I am & I won’t last 6 months here, so please give me a job!”  Once I saw it as they did, I lost my nerve & knew I had to have an alternate plan.

 

So I went home & built my loom.

 

Not kidding, that is really what I did. 

 

My loom today, displaying another product of ADD (Artistic Deficit Disorder), My painted Cigar Boxes



How do you get a floor loom in the tropics, you might ask.  You persuade your then-husband a weaving business on a beautiful island can be viable, convincing him that shipping all your belongings through the USPS packed in yarn would keep them safe & secure (which it did—only one broken bowl in 33 boxes).  You cajole him into believing the financial & logistical commitment to shipping 5 huge boxes of unfinished loom parts from Maryland to St. Croix will be a stellar proposition. 

 

Facing the pile of adult-sized tinker toys that would become my loom, I was reminded that I had NO mechanical ability, construction experience, or other aptitude for such a task.  And so, remembering the bemused faces as they read my resume’, I built it anyway. 

 

I sanded all the pieces of hardwood carefully, then applied & wiped off a coat of ½ linseed oil & ½ paint thinner.  With the first coat the wood had the tone of light clover honey, & by the second it glowed a warm amber.  The process made the wood irresistible to my fingers, & twenty years later I still absently drag my hand along the front beam when I pass it in my living room, delighting to the satiny cool feel (& knocking off some of the dust of disuse, without accepting liability for it).

 

Not being a husband, I felt no compulsion to discard instruction sheets & instead poured over them as if they contained the secrets of DNA.  I lined up wooden & metal pieces as they appeared on the written sheet, as if that would cause it to magically self-assemble.  When that failed, I rose above my inabilities like a dyslexic swan-diving into Tolstoy, and after a week of uber-concentration mixed with trial & error, I had a functioning floor loom that would weave cloth 48” (or doubled, with a fold on one side—96”) wide. 

 

Or at least it would have if I hadn’t warped it upside down.  Yup.  I got so excited at my new building skills I forgot all others, namely the steps to dress the loom in preparation for weaving.  I had been repeating these steps hundreds of times since I learned to weave at 12 years old, but this was the first time that the threads ended up bypassing the back beam entirely.  I had painstakingly accomplished all the other steps, including gridding the pattern on graph paper, winding yards of fine yarn so that the threads weren’t tangled together, cranking the length on the back beam, threading each yarn end through each metal eye & the metal reed in the appropriate order, & finally tying the yarn to the rod under the front beam in groups, adjusting & re-adjusting so each thread was held in equal tension to all the others. 

 

But somehow I had threaded under instead of over the back beam.  This meant the tension would be impossible to maintain & therefore all that work would be pointless & I’d have to slice off & discard my beautiful silk threads. 

 

I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  So, I stepped back, studied the problem & tried to adapt. 

 

There was a pile of scrap wood on the porch of our little cottage.  It was the remains of a tiki bar some oil refinery workers (the previous tenants) had built on the back deck.  I found a 2 x 4 the appropriate length, but it had seen better days & was too rough & catchy to get anywhere near the fine silk, even after sanding. 

 

So I got a roll of Cutrite Waxed paper & covered the 2 x 4 as a  faux beam, inserted it under the warp near the beam that should have been under the warp, & happily started stomping pedals & wham-whamming the reed against the rapidly forming new cloth.  It wasn’t perfect or easy, but it worked & that fabric means more to me than any other I’ve made. 

 

These were only my FIRST adaptations to life here in this strange paradise.  I can’t remember or even count most of the rest. 

 

And now, two decades later that same loom stands covered not in threads, but in carved & painted cigar boxes, one of my other projects.  Beautiful lining fabrics are folded & stacked nearby & the finished pieces will be a feature at my Agriculture Fair booth on President’s Day weekend.  I’ve adapted them into purses, jewelry & treasure boxes, & while I make sure they are still recognizable in their origins, I like to think I’ve added charm & function with what I’ve done. 

 



AgriFest 2013 From the C Booth

Ag Fair may be different this year, because we’ve lost so many residents due to our refinery closing, July of 2012.  St. Croix is facing challenges of epic scale, & the joy on our tourists’ faces is sometimes met with lines of concern on those of the residents.  Fortunately, every visitor’s smile is a reminder of what we have here, what we can offer others, and how important it will be for us to choose carefully how we will adapt.  As a part of this community, I hope & believe we will do so by maintaining our numerous treasures, adding charm & improving function.