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!

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. 

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.

When Dawn Dawned on Me, by Lea Ann Robson

 

My Mu, who feels about mornings as I do!

My Dad loved to fish.  He had a 15’ army-green Sears Bass boat that I grew to hate long before it capsized in a Kentucky TVA lake & nearly killed him.  It was ugly, & drab, & parked on a trailer in our yard, but I didn’t merely hate its appearance.  I despised its sense of timing.  For some ridiculous reason, it always had to be taken out between 3:30 & 4 AM.  The excuse was that fish preferred this time of day to get caught.  I tried to wrap my head around this logic & as a seven year old, decided they must get hooked while they were yawning. 

 

I’ve always been abominable as a morning person & my parents eventually gave up on changing that, wrapped me in an afghan & bundled me into the back seat of the car on those mornings.   I would wake an hour later to the crinking sound of the winch lowering the boat off the trailer & slipping it into the flat & quiet water.  I had a white Zebco rod with a zebra striped reel, & they spent the day baited & dismissed, resting against the side of the boat.  I was wedged crosswise in the center of the boat, reading Trixie Belden books & ignoring my Dad’s pleas to cast my line at least once. 

 

So I had a pretty strongly-held belief that early rising was a waste of time, & I clung to that even tighter when I realized I had been duped.  Fish are awake all day. Snorkeling in the Caribbean, I have encountered endless schools of all manner of fish…at all times of day.  If my Dad were still alive, he’d tell me that was because I wasn’t fishing & they didn’t feel threatened.  He’d be making my argument for me.  I never had the stomach for fishing, not even for catch & release.  Ironically my Dad was a latent pacifist.  He even collected & refurbished antique guns, only to use them for target practice.  So somewhere, deep within his evolved older self, I think he’d understand (if not agree with) my hesitancy to put a hook in something I enjoy swimming with. 

 

He’d probably only concede this point if I give him the following ‘told you so’ opportunity:  Now I get up at 5am so I can be on the beach at dawn. 5am gives my pup time to roam the yard, & me time to do some yoga stretches & brew a big stainless cup of freshly ground Peet’s to take along.  Mu (my pup) won’t go with me because she hates the beach despite having been born on an island.  Go figure.  Maybe she hates 5 am? 

 

I even enjoy the twelve minute drive from my house to the water.  People are taking their plaid-uniformed kids to school, & I pass a very efficient, white-gloved veteran crossing guard on my trek.  If I’m early enough, I pass my favorite local farmer too.  Grantley has a small Jeep with a tow-behind trailer, & obvious pride in his life’s work.  He has the best-tended garden I’ve seen since my Grandfather’s in West Virginia.  His permanent produce stand is right by Queen Mary Highway (main drag) & he waves when he catches my eye.  Years ago we vended side-by-side, & his wife makes the best carrot cake imaginable—very dangerous to be next to all day!  I usually see him in one of three stances—riding his little red tractor, roasting ears of corn over a small coal pot, or showing an interested teen some facet of agriculture they won’t find in a textbook…and making it acceptable to be up at 5am. And then there’s the sunrise over the sea…

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.