Just in case you were wondering how the ceramic piece from the previous post looks when it is filled with foliage, here’s a glimpse.  I ran into a few planting issues.  For example, planting the little succulents in the opening on the side of the vase was a little tricky, plus I had to cut away about half of the root base of the orchid because I mis-remembered the size of the vase opening.  So, I think this orchid might last about 24 hours, but isn’t she gorgeous now.  I refer to her as she, because I think she looks like she is singing in an opera!  Okay, so I added the eyes, but the singing mouth is totally real!  Can’t you just hear her?  “O sole mio-ooooo!”
Thank you Jules for my new Opera Stage Vase.  I plan to use it as a venue for many visiting orchid stars.  Bravo!

Now that it’s not a secret anymore, here’s how Jules’s flower pot turned out after glazing.  (This is Mom posing with it on Christmas day.)  I don’t know if there is anything gorgeous pouring out of the peep-hole yet or not, but it’s only a matter of time!  I feel like we need to find a yellow orchid with black stripes to put in this beehive-motif pot…

We have planted and replanted these pots for years.  And this year, we filled them with succulents, which to our delight, have been thriving, except for one small snaffoo … rain! Often, after a big rain, the water coming off of our roof forms deep rivulets forcing hunks of soil and roots out of the pots. Although we are grateful for the rain, we are not happy to have to buy replacement plants and start anew.  So this year, and I’m not sure why it took me so long to think of this idea, I bought three umbrellas at the grocery store for the pots under the heaviest downpour areas, and guess what?  IT WORKED!  All of our shallow-rooted succulents are in perfect condition.  Plus, everyone who has come by has remarked on the fashionable attire of our potted plants during inclement weather … no rainy day blues here!

Recently, one of our favorite babysitters from Margaret’s little years, came to town for a visit and brought her own precious little ones.  Here is her cute toddler christening her Little Pond melamine dish set.  It was good to see that it could be bonked, dropped and dinked, and still be ready for mac and cheese.  Also, Neville, our all-boy puppy would like to thank Charity’s adorable all-boy son, for taking him on an adventure trek in our backyard wilderness.  Neville had so much fun that he had to take a four-hour nap afterward!
We loved seeing Charity, our great babysitter-now-teacher and her adorable family.  Maybe one of our girls can babysit for her now!

Here’s a picture we found of Margaret, our now 16-year-old, when she was four, with her wonderful babysitter, Charity, mother of cute toddler above, who was a student at UT at the time.  You just have to love a babysitter who is willing to play dress-up, and hide in tents, and crawl into club houses, and whose name is Charity!

It was a rainy day and Neville reeked.  So off we went to Dirty Dog, a washateria for dogs, or we like to think of it as a day at the spa for Nev.

Let’s just say that spa life is not his cup of tea.  He did not like the special ear-cleaning towelettes. He did not like the shampoo. He did not like the rinse.  He did not like the blow drying. And when we tried to spray him with the Doggy Cologne, he just wanted to eat it.  But, after all that agony, he did smell great, and he was as soft as chenille.  If he could have spoken English, I’m pretty sure he would have said, “Hey, I look good!”

After his uneasy day at the self-serve groomer (he had figured out by now that it wasn’t really a spa), we treated Neville with a visit to Petco.  (They actually allow dogs to shop with their owners–brilliant marketing–sort of like walking with a toddler on the sugar-cereal aisle.)  Neville talked us into buying some fresh acrylic chew-bones and a new pheasant toy since he had been such a good sport at the washateria.

And, since he was feeling all gussied up and frisky, he sidled up to the rawhide bar and had himself a much deserved fancy treat.  Ahhh, this is the life.

We finally had time to find some candles for our advent wreath.  And since we were already well into the second week of Advent, I had to do my annual advent wreath candle catch-up, which is to say that we burn one candle for two dinners, then two candles for two more dinners, so that the candles will all be appropriately staggered for the number of weeks they should have been burning, if I had been thinking ahead.  Does anyone else have this dilemma?
I don’t even know why I feel the need to hustle on the candle burning, because for the last few years, as we languish at the table after our big Christmas dinner, someone has yelled out, “Oh no, the advent wreath is on fire again!”  Three times we have been having so much fun that we haven’t noticed that the Week One candle has burned all the way to the little wooden holder and is smoldering.  And all three years, we have carted our sweet little wooden wreath to the little shop here in Austin, Rootin’ Ridge Toymakers, which makes them, and they have replaced the wooden holder.  If you would like to add this pretty advent wreath to your tradition, the little shop here in Austin still makes them.  But, be sure to blow out the candles before they touch the holders unless you want to add a little excitement to your Christmas night!  Happy Advent.

Berkeley is known – starting with the efforts of Alice Waters and Chez Panisse – for encouraging the consumption of food that is “fresh, local, and in-season” – and there’s nothing limiting about that when you live in a place where it sometimes appears that everything is in season all the time. Above, you see the progress of the little heirloom seedling that I adopted from a generous friend who had collected seeds from her favorite tomatoes and nurtured them. This little guy started way too late to fit into the normal summer tomato season, but here he is – spindly and green and ever so optimistic in the late-November sun.

Below on the right, the upside-down tomato plant of my upstairs neighbor, which hangs with its endless clusters of enormous beautiful green and turning tomatoes that I always daydream will drop from the vine perfectly into my hand as I am coming in from getting the mail, and which never do. And on the left, the jewel-like baby heirlooms that my sweet husband brought back from the Trader Joe’s when that first daydream didn’t come come to pass.

In the spirit of yesterday’s great holiday, I would like to mention that I am thankful both for this late-season abundance and for the sweet husband who brought them home.  Happy Day-After Thanksgiving!

We have a window in our living room which must become a magic mirror at a certain time of day, because, when we hear a certain kind of bump, we know that a bird, who thought he was flying into a clear blue sky has had a head-on collision.  Some of the birds will stay very still for a minute.  We think they are thinking, “Wow, that is NOT the sky.” Then, they will fly away to a nearby branch to recuperate or, sadly, for a few, it is the final flight, as they enter bird heaven.

Recently, when we heard a small bump on the glass, we ran to check and saw a tiny little hummingbird that I was certain had passed into the bird heaven realm.  I ran to get a ziploc to protect his remains from our new puppy’s curiosity.  However, when I returned, Margaret had perched the little fella on the window sill with its own little floral life support system and she was softly massaging his little neck.  I assured her that he had passed away and really she should come in and finish her homework.  She reluctantly came in, but made me promise that I would not ziploc him–she was still adamant that he would live with just a little time to gather his wits.  And, guess what?!  She was right.  About an hour later, he flapped his tiny wings and flew into the wild blue yonder.  I guess, sometimes, you just have to believe.

This is why I am amazed that this potato vine eruption is still here:  Year before last, I added potato vines to this “flying saucer” pot (a 5-foot wide pot made from an old microwave dish, which is too shallow to grow much, but that’s another story).  Anyway, I thought the limey color would be such a nice accent to all the white flowers I was planting for Ellen’s wedding.  Lo and behold, with nurturing and deer netting, they began to grow.  Then one night, just as the vines were beginning to have some mass, the deer netting blew off and the potato vines must have transmitted some kind of alert which spread with the speed of a teenager texting, “Calling all deer, calling all deer, dessert at the Hecks’ house … tonight!”  Each gorgeous leaf was nipped at the bud leaving a 5-foot-wide pot full of stems. I was dismayed, to say the least.  But, in retrospect, I get it … if I were a deer, I think I would gorge myself on these enticing tender greens, too!  However, I hope we get to enjoy this mountain of color a little longer before the next invitation goes out.

First, an anecdote regarding that big-nosed man in the lower-right corner of my mom’s montage:  We were taught even at the earliest ages in the clay classes at Laguna Gloria to follow “The Rule of Thumb”, which is to say, “Do no allow any piece of your clay creation to exceed the width of your thumb in thickness.”  Because of this rule, that prominent proboscis had to be filled with a tight ball of newspaper.  Had I not conscientiously added nostrils, this would have been the last we ever saw of the daily edition; however, for almost a decade, if the mask – or even the wall on which it was displayed – shook for any reason, gray airy ashes would begin to sift from his sneezer.  :)

Now, middle of the three sisters mentioned in the previous post, Julianna has taken it to the next level.  Recently, when Jules was so nice to host me at Old Dominion, we spent a Saturday morning in the ceramics department. It was peaceful, and cool, and everything was covered in a layer of gray clay-dust.  Jules was hard at work at the wheel, making three symmetrical shapes for one of her first assignments (and I was very impressed with her ability to keep the chunk of clay in the center of that spinner).

Above is a view of one of the rooms in the ceramics studio and pictures and Julianna while she is throwing one of her three shapes.  (How she manages to get her hands to look that graceful in wet clay, I don’t know.)  Neither of us like the gritty feeling of the clay on our hands as it dries (or baking flour, or pastel on paper, for that matter), which might put a damper on its potential for a long-time occupation.  But while it lasts, I wanted to feature some of Jules’s great work.  However, adorably, her current work-in-progress is a planned Christmas present, so I can only give you all a small sneak-peek here.  This is only the greenware stage (when the clay is dry, but has not yet been fired.) I can’t wait to see how the glaze smooths itself over those hexagons.

Thus ends our posts on ceramics-related topics – for now at least. We may have more after Christmas! Have a great week!