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!

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!

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!

The Breakfast Club, by Lea Ann Robson

As a kid I judged the quality of vacation days by the number of wet bathing suits draped over the porch furniture by sundown.  Now I’m 50, & happy to say I judge weekdays that way. 

The sea was a little too riled up to snorkel this morning at dawn, but I wore my mask to try to avoid large rock & coral formations that might prove dangerous when coupled with the surge. Even trying to pick glass out of the shallows before I got in, I was nearly knocked on my fanny.  I took some comfort in the presence of the ‘breakfast club,’ the gang of retired people who gather to bob in the surf & talk politics & current events most mornings.  Some of them move slowly or may need a cane to walk on land, but they take their ritual soak in the sea even when it is rougher than I like.  I suppose they’ve been through hurricanes & rougher things than the surf that gives me pause.

What I do with my Quarry (sea glass pendants)

It was too rough to stay in the shallows next to the rocks, so I swam out a bit, past the coral formations I know by heart.  Today they were shrouded in opaque aqua surf & the only thing I could make out startled me—a large spotted eagle ray.  He had a full length tail unlike a lot of the rays who have had close encounters with boats, & I initially noticed him because he tipped to the right & a ray of bright sunlight hit his white belly. 

 

As I swam back, I was able to grab a couple of pieces of glass before the surf tried to yank them out of my hands.  I realized as I struggled back onto the beach that though my collection bag was lighter than it had been in ages, I’m glad I came to the beach.  I’m ALWAYS glad I come to the beach, no matter what the conditions.

Company Is Coming! by Lea Ann Robson

The car is loaded, packed as tight as a hybrid can be.  Laundry is hung to dry (including today’s bathing suit).  Banana/Mango smoothie (product of my prolific yard) is frozen, along with my big water bottle.  Iced coffee is chilling in my big stainless mug. 

'Bamboo wrap' sea glass necklace

The cases in my car are loaded with fresh designs, from palm trees to earrings, to holly clusters, all bright & cheerful & as happy as I was making them over this last week.  The only thing left out is my tools, wire, bells & some glass.  I can never put those away until the last possible minute, always thinking ‘what if there is an emergency & I need to make reindeer…tonight!?’  Don’t laugh.  Could happen. 

Tomorrow morning will start at 5 & not too long after I’ll be at my spot on the seawall in Frederiksted by the pier.  I’ll be building my little house (tent, actually), decorating (filling tables & hanging racks with all my designs), & then I’ll put on a fresh coat of lip gloss, fluff my hair & wait.  I’m waiting for company.  I’m waiting for you.

Aqua long earrings

You got on the boat in Bayonne, or Miami, or San Juan.  You’ve left snow or freezing rain, or just bare trees & days when you can see your breath.  You may have had to scrape your car windshield before you could start the first leg of your trip.  You’ve been at sea for days or weeks or just hours.  You may have been to St. Croix last year or this could be your first trip here.  You’re on vacation, & I’m lucky enough to live where you want to visit. 

Believe me, I know how lucky that is.

If I don’t know that tonight, I’ll definitely know by the time you have to get back on the boat tomorrow.  Because for one day I get to talk to people from all over the country & the world, find out what makes them happy or curious, & share a lot of my island & a little of their vacation. 

I’ll meet honeymooning couples & people celebrating landmark anniversaries, & those will leave my booth with a handmade memento & my admiration of their faith in love & their fortune at finding the one. 

I’ll meet kids slathered in sun block & curious about sea glass & how the waves & surf make this phenomenon.  I’ll meet kindred souls who have been beachcombing as long as I have, & I’ll listen with some envy as they describe beaches full of treasure scattered all over the globe. 

My 'From the C' booth by the cruise ship pier

I’ll recommend the St. George Botanical Garden to all who ask about attractions, because I have so much affection for the place that after renting for 16 years here, I actually bought a little house in the neighborhood (knowing I’d be able to grow stuff there).

And as you board the ship & sail off to your next island or the final port on your journey, I’ll pack my tent, load my hybrid & return to my permanent house to water my orchids & pineapples, to skritch my dog Mu, & to think about the connections made with you on one day of your vacation. 

With luck I’ll have an email or a blog comment from one of you who I met a year or a month ago, one who was hesitant to break the connection or anxious to make the move to paradise.  I hope so!

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?

Inside the Sunset, by Lea Ann Robson

My absolute favorite place to be is at the beach at sunrise…my favorite except to be at the beach at sunset…more specifically IN the sea at sunset.  Dorsch Beach (where I get the sea glass I use for all my From the C designs) on the west end of St. Croix is a long expanse of soft sand punctuated by only two or three inns & condos.   It is as popular with residents as tourists, & is the one place I always feel confident recommending to day-trippers, positive they’ll come back with glowing reviews before they get back on the ship & set sail. 

It is diverse & active, & most mornings I share my first swim of the day with a guy I call Horst.  I don’t know his real name, but I like to name animals, so Horst it is. He is sleek & black & loves the water as much as I do.  His trainer is a small guy with waist-length dread locks, & he hangs onto Horst’s mane & floats as the stallion swims further out than you’d believe.   While they do their slow circle out & back, their landlubber counterpart, a roan mare wearing green legwarmers, trots circles in the sand around a rather large man who sits on an inverted drywall bucket.   They’re usually my only company other than an occasional early-rising guest, coffee in hand as they scan the sea from the deck at Sand Castle by the Sea, the first inn on the beach.  I imagine the guests returning to their room full of sleepy family & reporting on the calm & intensely aqua water in anticipation of the lovely vacation day ahead. 

'From the C' 'bamboo wrap' necklace

There are much worse ways to start your day than snorkeling for sea glass, watching a horse swim from underwater, & sharing a moment of vacation with guests who are always fascinated in the day’s haul of treasures.

And so I always think this is the BEST part of the day as I drive home to shower & go to my other job…right up until after work, when I run home to change back into my suit & zoom back to the beach for sunset.  Fighting the dying light, I stubbornly stay mask down until the absolute last possible minute, when I pop up to catch my favorite moment.  There’s an instant when the sky & sea seem to exchange places & properties, when the reflected colors in the water’s surface are so bright, the sky seems to darken by comparison & the water feels like it could levitate.  Standing chin deep in that bright water, I feel my concerns rise also, leaving me limp with contentment & with only one remaining item on my to-do list, to dry off & make the short drive home.