Catching New Ideas

Some people talk about 'dry spells,' writer's block, general doldrums & creative apathy. A lack of ideas (though granted they aren't all ready for prime time--evidently my enthusiasm for my invention 'Yonuts' (frozen yogurt filled doughnuts) was purely my own) was never the issue. Hours in the day--the real problem. 

When my ex & I had the used goods warehouse store on St Croix years ago, I had to train myself not to see potential in everything that walked in & out of the door. That evidently requires periodic retraining, because my house is pretty full of stuff that only I see as having possibilities.  I'm OK with being alone in that vision, as long as plans & ideas come to fruition every now & again. Thanks to some help (ranging from opinions to heavy lifting) from my friends, several plans are becoming real this summer:

1.  I finally exchanged the cursedly mundane brown trim on my little house for a refreshing dark cool grape.  

2.  The porch ceiling was my first foray into what I intended to do since I bought my 70's house in 2008--paint ceiling & beams all one seamless color. I'm so pleased that next week the rest of the ceilings will become one big creamy white united front as well.  

Then last week I used some stuck at home with respiratory crud downtime to polish off another lingering unfinished project--this one:

I call it 'Big Clay Pots Painted Green, topped with Plants & Filled With Sea Glass"

But you can tell from there they're full of ...potential!!!

Puzzle Prep?

Today's project--FULL of sea glass!

Happy purple bromeliad on a new table

Before Sudoku, before the Rubik's Cube, before Space Invaders, there were these little puzzles with plastic tiles in a plastic frame & they would slide in only 2 directions (evidently diagonal hadn't yet been invented in the late 60's). I don't remember the object but my fingertips have a memory of how the puzzle felt in my hands as I pushed the tiles up, down, left, right. It was really rudimentary.

Who knew I was learning such a useful life skill?  In a small house with a lot of stuff I spend a lot of time trying to create, improve or relocate some mode of storage. 

Today's project was to paint gigantic clay pots bright green & fill them with the sheer tonnage of sea glass I've collected here over the years & have been storing in tarp-covered under-bed chests on my porch. Once full, I covered the pots with sheets of plexiglass & placed some of my many plants on them. They make wonderful side tables & plant stands & they aren't about to blow anywhere in a storm. And now I can get rid of those ugly plastic chests. I used 3 med-lg & one enormous pot today & offloaded the contents of one large & almost 2 medium plastic chests. It worked so well I'll be back at Home Depot tomorrow buying 4 more pots & four more sheets of plexi. I have enough paint. 

I know these numbers will be enough to hold the contents of the remaining 3 chests because in the 70's & 80's I learned another outmoded skill: Algebra. My favorite formula is 'this is to that as that is to 'x'.   When you live in a compact home, you use that one a lot.  

Oh, & the final result of all this puzzling & calculating should be a cleaner looking porch with more usable, non-plant-covered tables. Drinks will have a place to rest, & there will be room to serve dinner for 6.  And when I'm ready to sort sea glass for my next batch of angels, jellyfish, crabs or Jumbies, I'll have a lovely & practical way to do that....and more time to play Scrabble!

Plants That Do Tricks

I love plants that can do tricks. I prefer those that come by their talent naturally & willingly to those tormented, grafted & twisted according to the will of people. (Exception:  espalier. Love me a great flat, wall hugger of a tree, but I detest topiary. I see green 'poodle-puff cuts' on a shrub & I want to scream 'Let my foliage FREE!')
Instead, I admire any one plant that produces several different colored flowers. Nasturtiums, for one. I also like Lantana's concentric ombré effect.
But my favorite 'cirque de foliage' trick is any GREEN flower. So refreshing & unexpected. In Annapolis I lived in the postage-stamp sized guest cottage of a narcissistic plastic surgeon who thought he was Georgio Armani, but more closely resembled Spaulding Gray. From the sleeping loft (up a ladder, 2 twin mattresses in a hirsute railed adult 'crib' arrangement), you could peer through the rail to see what was directly beneath you, cooking on the stovetop. Did I mention it was small?

This one really does tricks--from innocuous green bud to spectacular pink orchid!

It had 3 'pro's:' 1.  A huge skylight directly over the bed, through which was a wonderful view of treetops.  Raccoon families would regularly take time out from garbage can raids to look in on my slumbers. 2. My first experience with Jalousie windows which acted as a funnel for sound. I always

The mostly finished porch!

 

left the windows cranked mostly open, & since I was situated uphill from the little neighborhood dockside beach bar, I was lulled to sleep by the soft metallic clang of sailboat riggings & strains of my first experience with reggae--UB40.
But the third & most wonderful thing about this unassuming, glorified garden shed was the 2 disproportionately long window boxes that, when combined spanned the whole exterior wall by the door. Mind you, there was no window above them, only rough dark brown wood siding, but in my eyes the empty boxes had such potential.
Maryland had wonderful nurseries full of lush plants & I had spent many weekends wandering their gravel  paths, dreaming of gorgeous massed plantings for which I would never have space or landlord permission. Now I had a place for a bit of what I'd been longing for, so I went to 6 different nurseries, drew various schematics, priced plants...became completely overwhelmed with choices, & went home & planted seeds. I planted bells of Ireland.
Within a remarkably short time, their gorgeously healthy green  spires were tall enough to touch the eaves & the flower boxes were so full it looked like the cottage was off-balance & in danger of rolling over.
So I added trailing purple lobelia to the front edge.
I loved the wave of cool colors that hit me when I came home after I commuted through the infuriating sea of duh traffic, having spent my day doing a type-A job For which I was completely unequipped. I'd unlatch the pixie-height wooden gate & step down into my tiny Eden. I'd grab an iced tea & my book & flop into the single, basic outdoor chair to read until it was too dark to make out the words on the page. It was only my second adult home, & those ethereal green spires made it mine.
Fast forward a couple of decades & the same things affect me the same way, but I 'go much bigger' (& stay home) now. I'm just completing (for now--I have a deeply held belief that when we cease to tweak, we die) my second total redo of my front porch since I bought my little house in May, 2008. Unexpected furniture paint & upholstery colors, a freshly painted tiffany blue beamed ceiling & dusky, dark aubergine fascia & trim against the sandy, buttery wall color make a happy backdrop for all the orchids, whether blooming or not.
But the big joy this morning was this green Dendrobium beauty, blooming over the blue rail & greeting my across the street neighbors. Lucky them.  LUCKY me.

St. Croix Summer

Andrè Millar, a fave orchid 

Summer in St. Croix is a pretty wonderful, lazy thing. I look forward it like teachers must--lists of deferred projects made, edited, lost, recreated & usually forgotten when the flat, clear, signature 'Tiffany blue' of the Caribbean Sea calls. The sea calls to me year-round, but I'm able to answer more often when cruise ship port calls dwindle to one stop every third Sunday. And there's the yin-yang summer bonus cache of sea glass unearthed by tropical storms on their way through our neighborhood. I'm also addicted to seeing my favorite fish--a jr. Puffer type with his perpetually surprised expression & his two young French Angelfish friends. This summer I've never snorkeled alone, having a friendly entourage of very pushy 3"-4" long silver fish with me at all times. They swirl around me as I gather glass, & actually head-butt me sometimes. I call them Mumifish, named for my pup who uses similar tactics to get my attention.
Despite all the time spent 'self-brining,' I am getting some projects done, including a few house face lifts that have had a similar effect on my mood. Regular roof maintenance turned into trim work.  Trim paint (deeeeep midnight purple or 'Grape Ape,' as we've taken to calling it) quickly segued into porch ceiling paint (also 'Tiffany blue) & so on. I've put pics in a 'Projects' album on my personal FaceBook page (add yours to the comments section on this & I'll 'friend' you if you'd like) & new sea glass designs on www.facebook.com/FromtheC.

I finally opened an Etsy storefront at www.etsy.com/de/shop/fromthecstonegems.
I also post lots of pics of the orchids & fruit I grow on FB. Pineapple season in my yard was particularly splendid this year, with 21 beauties quickly dispersed & dispatched by my friends & myself. I even got around to boiling the peels this year to make a delicious unsweetened juice I used to bump up the flavor quotient in banana bread & muffins.  Mixed with light cran juice, the pineapple juice makes a really refreshing drink too.
Speaking of which, I'm about to have a glassful & toast to your lovely, lazy summer, wherever you celebrate it.

Parables in Paradise

I like parables almost as much as I like analogies. And I'm telling you I like analogies like pageant queens like tiaras. But back to parables.
Growing up I frequently heard 'there is a lid for every pot,' & I guess I subscribed to the premise. It is similar to the Hebraic concept of bashert, which states that there is a 'perfect-fitting' someone out there for every one. The reason they fit one & only one person is that we were once fused, subsequently divided, & then left to wander the earth searching for our missing, matching mate. Kind of a cross between match.com & Garanimals, I guess.
My experience was more like Huusker Dü, the old memory game where you remove 2 checkers from a board, revealing symbol pairs & try to remember where the matching pairs were. It was a little more hit or miss than bashert's certainty, & the instructions were in Swedish, not unlike Ikea kit furniture. How's that for an analogy!?
Lately I've grown very attached to a local version of a pot parable (non Marley related); 'Every pot must sit on it's own bottom.'  Though I'm trying not to take that too literally (I get off my bottom & swim a lot), I like to think I've found the balance & independence of mind implied in the island version.
I'm not ruling out a lid...just not squandering a lot of time trying to get one to fit. For now I'm fine as is, on my own (well you know) & letting off a lotta steam!

Happy

So I had an appointment that I expected to be quite somber this afternoon.  Instead I left the spot with a snappy tune in & a ridiculous grin on my oh so round head.
A friend was recently diagnosed with a serious medical problem, one that caused her to lose her voice (temporarily) & those who knew her to gain some worry furrows. After several postponements of our regular standing monthly appointment (while she was off-island for treatment), fear & anxiety were building their walls on the foundation of the unknown.
  Earlier this week I finally received the call setting firm the appointment & by the time I arrived at the designated spot today I was twitchy with uncertainty. After I've known her for 2 decades would she look/sound/feel in some sense different or diminished?
When she opened the door the music fairly bounced out the door. My friend is a diminutive person, even so I've always marveled at how unfailingly perfectly put together she is, with the final detail always a spiky pair of beautiful heels (despite the fact she works on her feet for hours at a stretch.) When the door opened this afternoon I expected flats & probably an outfit more suited to comfort than style.
She wore a perfectly cut red dress, her black apron & a gorgeous pair of strappy leather high heels.  Her voice is back, as is her smile. The only visible change is a narrow clear strip of bandage at the hollow of her neck. After the initial relief, I relaxed & only after 20 or so minutes had passed did I become aware of the song, the soundtrack to this surprise. It was Pharrell Williams' 'Happy,' from 'Despicable Me 2.'
My appointment was at 4:30 this afternoon.
She had been playing 'Happy' on continuous repeat since 9 this morning.
No one complained.

Streamlining Your Stuff

I'm reminded daily of George Carlin's old routine on 'stuff.'  He talked about how we're never comfortable unless we have our stuff with us--whether it is placed all around our home or workspace, or packed in smaller versions in our luggage when we travel. The smart phone & tablet were both created in response to this need, & I'm just as codependent on them as most people.
But here I'm talking about a more tangible version.
The best version of stuff is a ziplock sandwich bag with my driver's license, a pack of gum & a ten dollar bill inside. Paired with towel, snorkel, mask & mesh collection bag, it comprises my most streamlined stuff, & is all I take with me to snorkel. I don't take stuff to change into, or swim fins (HATE confined feet, on land or in the sea). I don't take my phone. If you're really my friend, you know I'm in the sea between the hours of 4:45 & 6:30, but that I can be reached in person there or you may leave a voicemail.  Since I don't 'do' my hair or wear makeup other than lipstick, I can be showered, shampooed, dressed & ready for dining out by 6:45.
Stateside stuff involved coats/gloves/umbrellas/hats/shoes/boots/scarves/briefcases/travel mugs/book bags & backpacks.
I love my little Baggie!

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!

Oh the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-Comin'!!

OK, maybe not the Wells Fargo wagon, but something equally wonderful--the annual St. Croix Orchid Society Show at UVI this weekend.

These beauties won't make it to the show because they're busy decorating my front porch. 

My friend Karen & I have plans to take on the Orchid Show & have lunch at LaReine Chicken Shack. I plan to have worked up an appetite by then because I'm starting my Saturday at the Grow n Learn mini seminar on Agaves at St. George Botanical Garden. If I can manage to get in bed before the wees on Friday night I may even start my Saturday with a really early trip to the LaReine Farmers' Market to see my stalwart vending friend, Joan & pick up some choice produce. 

But the finalé will definitely be the Orchid Show. And here I'll allow more pictures of my crew to show you why I can't wait!

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!

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

On Poseidon & Procrastination

Pendants I make with my sea glass finds (www.fromthecjewelry.com)

Last night’s swim was an afterthought…that morphed into unfettered joy.  More about that in a moment.  First, a note about procrastination, a favorite hobby. 

Turns out I can procrastinate about anything—even things I LOVE to do.  Swimming is the perfect example.  One thing you’re accustomed to stateside that you give up here in the Caribbean is the notion of twilight.  We just don’t have it.  We go from sunset to full darkness in what seems like the flip of a switch. 

After 21 years here, I’m used to that & don’t really miss it…until I’m taking my after-work swim.  If I start for the beach at 4:45 I’ll have a full hour to swim & search for sea glass before I’m plunged into murk & everything I pick up looks like or is a rock.  I live 12 minutes from the beach, door to shore.  Sunset now is at 6:10, & I’ll be able to see my quarry for exactly 6 minutes after that & before everything that brushes my leg as I swim becomes an imaginary eel.  I love all sea creatures, except eels.  They are basically big-mouthed snakes underwater, some with the added fun of being electrified, & who needs that combo? 

I keep my towel, suit, mask/ snorkel & collection bag on a hall tree I painted aqua to go with the other craziness on my porch.  I like to have them all together & ready, like a firefighter’s gear…except I’m going to water, not fire.  I’d always be early to swim, if it weren’t for Sun-dried Tomato flavor Wheat Thins.  I work through lunch & I’m hungry when I get home, hence the allure of the aforementioned.  Crackers lead to water, then to mouthwash & tooth-brushing before I jump in my gear & head west. 

Non-Judgy Mu, Happy I'm staying home

And when I’m running late & my dog looks at me judgmentally for thinking of leaving her again after being at work already, I sometimes lose resolve & end up staying home.  Of course I never know what I missed at the beach, but it is human nature to think that you’ve missed something great by being a slacker & staying home…& I am human despite my gills. 

So last night I answered the Wheat Thins & was about to (literally) throw in the towel on my plans to swim when the beebeebeep of an incoming text sounded & there was a picture of my first boyfriend Chris, standing in a snowdrift in North Carolina.  He had taken a snow day from work & that picture gave me the required shove to get out the door & head West. 

The surf was doing the regular push/pull, but the unusually strong undertow from last week has left the building & Neptune & I are buddies again.  All last week’s churning unearthed some wonderful sea glass, & I pulled in several pounds of good pieces in an hour, in about a 25’ stretch of beach.  There was a lot of ‘live entertainment’ as well, in the form of many huge schools of fish, seemingly organized by grade order.  First I swam in a ‘herd’ of neon-sized (Kindergarten?) sprat & three graduated sized schools later, I was with a bunch big enough to be working on their post-grad studies. 

So thanks, Chris, for the arctic motivation.  Hope you & NC thaw soon & you have an early spring.  That’s the best I can wish for you, while I’m paddling about in the surf & watching the sunset.  Sorry!

Unexpected Treats

My orchids, always a wonderful surprise!

I’ve been vending sea glass ornaments & jewelry by the sea (fromthecjewelry.com) for a few years now, & you’d think it would be more predictable…but it isn’t.  Seems every day & every ship there is something or someone new & different.  Some come with a little warning.  Others… BLAM & there they are. 

A year ago I had some warning in the form of a few emails leading up to a day visit (she & her husband were on a cruise) by one of my dearest childhood friends, Anna.  I was set up & vending that day, but she spent some time with me & we got a chance to catch up.  WONDERFUL, after not having seen her for well over two decades. 

Last week I stepped out of my booth to stretch, glanced across the waterfront park between my booth & the cruise ship pier, & thought ‘WOW, there’s somebody with Anna’s face!’  And then I realized it was Anna! This year she opted to just surprise me & show up, which was almost as much fun as anticipating her arrival. 

Other recent surprises weren’t as personal (& didn’t come off a ship), but pretty wonderful anyway.  Around the Christmas holidays, we had another unexpected visitor here on St. Croix—none other than Martha Stewart.  She had a great visit here & even spent considerable time in a friend’s coffee house (among various other restaurants & attractions).  She wrote several glowing blog postings with loads of photos & we were thrilled to have her here.

But back to the ships.  In the middle of a vending day last week with cruise ship passengers milling all around, I glanced at the coral stone steps leading up to the clock tower in front of my booth...and noticed something unusual.  There were three gentlemen in white suits standing there looking rather twitchy & expectant.  A moment later we knew why.  Here came the bride!  She was lovely, with a gown that appeared to have been designed for her.  The short ceremony was all in Spanish, & there were a handful of attendants & a few more guests. 

Some surprises come in smaller packages.  This little guy is the youngest of the flock of shore birds Ms. Joan, my neighbor vendor refers to as her ‘children.’  She feeds them crushed crackers & they are quite tame.  The adults are much darker in coloring, but the babies are mostly white, like Jr. here. 

I Cry at Jumbies, by Lea Ann Robson

On ship days, as soon as we set up our seaside booths I get to watch the troupe of three Moko jumbies ‘assemble’ themselves on the wall by Fort Frederick.  These young & lanky guys sit atop the wall & start the transformation process by using rag strips to bind the stilts to their legs.  Then they go through the detailed ritual of covering all portions of their bodies with their costumes, piece by piece.  When they are finished, the only parts remaining uncovered are their eyes. When they rise to full height & lope past my tent, all I can see is the bottoms of their stilts & legs, with the rest carried high above the sightline.   If they know I’m in the tent, one will dip down & wave a gloved hand at me. 

 

Moko Jumbies are the elaborately costumed stilt walkers you’ll see in Frederiksted when the ships are in.  Remarkably agile & well-schooled in their art, they represent vestiges from the West African traditions fused with our usual Caribbean twist.  The lore behind them says they are protectors of the village, scaring off evil as it comes.  We could all use a little more of that.  I’ve been watching these marvelous performers for twenty years now, & it wasn’t until a few years ago that they started affecting me oddly.

 

They are remarkable dancers, maneuvering on stilts in ways I couldn’t dream of on shoes.  They are silent as they perform, swaying & balancing to the DJ’s tunes, & drawing in visitors as audience or even to dance with them.  One of the best days was the perfect example of the cultural ‘mash up’ (Island speak for the collision of objects or ideas) that keeps me falling for this place over & over.  The lead Jumbie was line dancing to Electric Slide (we are a society trapped in amber, & I’ve yet to finish an event or party here without a finale’ involving line dancing).  One by one, ship passengers joined the party, until there was a sea of people at the base of his stilts, all going through the practiced moves & to a person, beaming.  Finally there were 50 or 60 people dancing with him, filling the clock tower park & drawing ‘paparazzi,’ or at least other visitors snapping great shots with their cameras & phones.  It wasn’t planned or staged, just a spontaneous thing (unlike our attempts at flash mobs.  We haven’t got the hang of that yet, & tend to announce them a couple of times before we ‘spontaneously’ break out in…whatever).

 

On another ship day a ‘chain gang’ (all linked together, hand to hand) of local kindergarten students, all wearing slightly oversized red t shirts, flowed past my booth.  Just to my right the Jumbies loped over, & the looks on the tiny kids’ faces were fantastic.  Visitors dropped to the grass on their stomachs to get perspective photos of the kids staring at the towering stilt-walkers, awed & thrilled into a stunned silence, as quiet as the performers.  Most of the students recovered themselves enough to dance a little with the guys, but some were still standing stock still, mouths open as the performers made their way down the street.  They must have wondered at the enormity of all they saw that day, from the willowy Jumbies to the giant ship in port.

 

Jumbies aren’t just born, they’re taught.  Some days when I pass the Education Complex on my way home from my other job, I see the Moko Jumbie class alongside the main road.  Smaller kids start with shorter stilts & bring up the rear.  More experienced students on full-height stilts lead the way with descending ages between them.  These are plain-clothes jumbies, just getting the hang of stilts without the added challenge of costumes.  It is an after-school commitment, so the students don’t have to wear their usual school uniforms.  The older boys wear their baggy jeans.  You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a fourteen year old boy, propped against a flag pole & trying to be cool while strapped to a pair of stilts.  Somehow the fourteen year old girl, still in her plaid uniform & walking past him at street level managed to look unimpressed. 

 

The Jumbies have very special flashy costumes for certain occasions, & they break out their best for our annual St. Croix Agricultural & Food Festival, President’s day weekend every year.  This is the biggest fair in the Caribbean, & I’m proud to participate & show my work there every year.  The event spans three days, but every year local bands and carnival troupes participate in the opening day parade.  And as with all the St. Croix parades (of which there are many), the troupe of Jumbies is front & center.  As the parade wends around the display booths & stage & finally comes to a halt in the center field, they play the National Anthem, followed by the Virgin Islands Anthem, and then there is quiet…followed by a sea of voices reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.  We are all at attention, & high above the crowd, the Jumbies place their gloved hands over their hearts & break their silence to recite.  By the end, they’re just a blur to me as I rifle through my bags to find a paper towel for my silly face.  It always affects me the same way.  

 

I think the evils Jumbies ward off for me are of being complacent & jaded to the unique place that surrounds us, to the traditions before, & to the promise of the future entrusted to us.

And they’re so tall because we’re not supposed to miss all that.  At least that’s my theory!

On the Bream 'Teem' by Lea Ann Robson

Yesterday evening’s swim was one of those exceptions to the old Groucho Marx quote (“I don’t care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members.”) I’m always oddly flattered when an animal accepts me on its level.  OK, usually that’s my dog Mu when I’m in the floor doing yoga (downward dog is a fave), but this time it is about fish. 

To say I’m focused when I’m snorkeling for sea glass is like saying a monsoon might be damp.  Friends who show up at the beach after I’m face down find the only way to get me to acknowledge their presence is to hurl something near my head so it makes a big thwunk in the water next to me.  OK, that’s one friend’s methods, & he doesn’t care that I’ve got lumps on my head from where he ‘missed.’  I know, I know—Nemo.  “With fronds like these, who needs anemones?”  (Wow, I pulled out a nautical pun quote!  Impressive!)

My Sea Glass Pendants

But back to yesterday.  I broke my mask strap as I was putting it on, no doubt due to silicon fatigue from overuse.  Not to be thwarted by a silly detail like a strapless mask, I exhaled & suction-stuck it to my round face & went about my mission.  It worked well enough for me to haul in several pounds of my quarry, but the concession was that I’d have to pop my head up & clear more often, something I usually avoid (lest I miss the perfect pendant piece of aqua glass, as I’m positive I would). 

So I was ‘blowing the hatch’ as it were & when I re-dunked, I caught motion in my peripheral vision, looked up & realized I was in the middle of the biggest school of fish I’ve ever been a part of.  They were inch-long & shiny, all rainbow iridescent & fearless & flowing against me on all sides.  And I had that wonderful sensation I get when there is no gap between nature & me, & I’m a part of what I love.  Don’t spread it around, but sometimes it makes me tear up inside my mask.  What must the fish think?

Christmas in Paradise, by Lea Ann Robson

Eighteen years ago I thwart

My 'From the C' vending booth by the ships

ed the definition of insanity by realizing it would always be freezing in WV if I went home for Christmas.  So I decided to flip-flop vacation days to summer & instead spent the Holidays in my new home of St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. 

The upsides:

1.        Santa wears jams & plays steel pan.

2.       Every Caribbean island has their version of Carnival at a different time of year, & St. Croix’s is the Crucian Christmas Festival.

3.       Fruitcake ships well.

The downsides:

1.         Without a really obvious change in weather, there were no external cues to tell you to shop & ship any gifts you had hope for the recipients to get by Christmas.

2.       How do you make it Christmas when you’re still sweating?

3.       Fruitcake ships well. (Just kidding—my Mom’s fruitcake is fab & has never suffered from a drizzle of the local Cruzan rum I have occasionally added.  It’s just that fruitcake is such an easy target!)

After I committed to Christmas in St. Croix, I set about figuring out ways to ‘Holiday it up.’  The most obvious would happen by accident.  I needed something from the hardware (read ‘general’) store, no doubt to replace something that rusted.  Aside:  If I calculated the percentage of my life here replacing items that rusted, I’d probably realize that I could have pursued a career in neurosurgery or the like with that time).  Our major hardware store, I found soon after I moved here, served many more functions than rust prevention & maintenance.  It was run by a couple who understood the ‘continental’ (island speak for imported statesiders) need to shop.  They carried a full array of hardware necessities, but realized empty space in their shipping containers could be filled with fun housewares—dishes/glasses/pots/pans/linens, etc. & that those would be the items that would prove irresistible to us all. 

My 'From the C' vending booth at the holidays

At Holiday time, their stock magically transformed to the most remarkable array of ornaments & Christmas décor imaginable.  They would travel to gift shows every year to source the fun, the frivolous, & the enchanting.  And then they did the unthinkable…& the thing that really makes it Christmas here.

They imported real Christmas trees!

When I got out of my car in the parking lot, I was hit by the scent of real pine & I realized THAT is what makes it Christmas to me.  So I left the store with a replacement part for something that rusted & broke in my toilet…& a big, fat, smelly CHRISTMAS TREE strapped to my rusty roof rack!

It was only after I had cut it loose & put it to soak in a bucket of sappy water in my back yard that I realized…I got rid of all my ornaments before I moved here.  I had nothing to put on the tree.  I had been so thrilled to see trees & wreaths that I forgot my ex & I had moved here via the Post Office.  If it didn’t fit in a box acceptable under the postal size requirements, or if we deemed it so fragile we sold it or gave it away before we made the move, it didn’t come along for the ride.  So my ornaments were all over the states now, with friends, family & strangers who had bought them at our pre-move yard sales. 

Initial regret was replaced with the thought perhaps that was how it should be—the past scattered behind, replaced by the need for something new & different to represent the radical change in our lives.  That sounded good, but I realized we were still on a very tight budget, having taken jobs we weren’t really qualified for at white-knuckle pay cuts.  On top of the cost concerns, there was the disconcerting fact that the first 5 years we lived here saw very active hurricane seasons—not exactly conducive to amassing big collections of breakables. 

So I pulled from a family* skill set & looked at ways to make ornaments from what I had.  (*My Grandfather was a collector of all things that might ever be useful—with epic stacks of items from twine to foil, to the heavy aluminum pie plates from his weekly favorite pineapple pies ).  I had been walking on the beach every day & picking up scads of sea glass.  As with most who love beach combing, I had filled most of the containers in my house with the beautiful shards…& then watched them collect dust. 

'Bamboo Wrap' sea glass necklace

After a series of ‘real world’ jobs, my ex & I had remembered we moved to an island for a DIFFERENT life, & opened our own business.  It was a 3000 square foot consignment warehouse, chock full of all manner of stuff, from appliances to furniture to books to tools we didn’t understand…& a huge spool of welding wire.  After investigating the malleability of the wire, I paid the full ticket price of $10 for the huge spool, took it home & started experimenting with wrapping the wire in various ways around the chunks of sea glass, all in the hope of creating a stunning ornament collection for my live tree. 

To call that first year’s efforts abstract would be a kindness.  Ugly as sin would be a more apt description.  The saving grace was that most were Heineken green & to an extent disappeared in the green (& now brown, after a few days in our climate) limbs.  At least the tree smelled great…as it expired in the heat!

And now it is 20 years later & I’m plotting where my tree will go this year while I work like a caffeine crazed elf, making the line of whimsical sea glass ornaments that formed the basis of my company, From the C Jewelry.   Boggles the mind to realize those ornaments & the related line of jewelry are now spread much farther than my childhood ornament collection.  Visitors to St. Croix have carted them back to Denmark, to Seattle, to Paris, to Germany & to RUSSIA.  They took with them the accompanying card that explains the formation of sea glass & the fact that every item is made by my hand from authentic  St. Croix sea glass.  Stores in St. Croix & stateside are now carrying lines From the C & after years of pleading cyber-ignorance, I’ve launched a useful website with photos & descriptions for those who prefer to shop from home. 

And the newest addition:  this morning I began this blog to chronicle the quirky & challenging fun of life in paradise.   I’m adding a link from my website, fromthecjewelry.com so you can see what is going on in this special part of the world.  Stay tuned, but now I’m going to celebrate with a swim!