Garden update #2

It feels like I just posted an update on the garden, but as of a few days ago I noticed that nearly all the vegetables have started sprouting.

The first couple of tomatoes! They look bigger every day.


I had been a bit worried about the cucumbers. It was a mistake to plant them in the same pot as the tomatoes because they are always in the shadow of that gargantuan plant. The leaves are withering and they generally don't look too good. But they have been flowering (pretty yellow flowers in fact) and the other day I noticed the tiny beginnings of some actual cucumbers (which are surprisingly prickly).

Both of the sweet pepper plants have started sprouting.

And I'm still a little confused about this one but look how tall it is! It is supposedly cilantro but doesn't look like any cilantro I've ever seen. I'm trying to figure out what exactly it is and if it will ever turn into the herb I so love to put on my tacos. Can anyone enlighten me on this?

Elephant's Trunk finds

Even after the excitement of the estate sale on Saturday, I was not quite feeling satisfied, so I woke up early on Sunday too (8:30--a little later at least) and headed out to the Elephant's Trunk flea market. About halfway through the flea, I spotted a Bertoia chair in the distance. It was white with black legs and the white part was kind of yellowed (though not rusty, which was a plus). But the dealer wanted $100 for it and he kind of rubbed me the wrong way--first he said "It's a Bertoia" in a tone of voice that implied that he didn't think I had any idea of what I was looking at. For $100 I want a chair that isn't all discolored and gross-looking, and I definitely don't want to be giving my $100 to a jerk.

I instead came home with this beautiful teak midcentury chair (sold to me by a much nicer lady)--not that I have anywhere to put it.

Other than the fact that it needs a new cushion, it is in really great shape. The wood is in beautiful condition, and the construction feels solid.

It had been placed out without the cushion, and I can see why. Even if the fabric weren't completely separated from the cushion I would be looking to reupholster it because it is totally hideous. Now I just have to figure out what kind of fabric will perfectly complement it. The dealer suggested black leather, which I'm not so sure about.

I also picked up this glass dome. I don't know why, but I've been wanting one of these for awhile for displaying things. I like the cabinet of curiosities aesthetic. It would also make a pretty nifty terrarium.

Climbing Mount Beacon

I have been wanting to check out Mount Beacon for months now, but keep having to postpone due to rain or other things coming up. I finally made it there on Saturday--of course, while it was a sunny day when I left the house, it started to rain as soon as I arrived in Beacon and did not stop until I had reached the top of the mountain...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here is the view from the bottom. Since hiking the trail, I've learned that it played an important factor in the Revolutionary War, when George Washington's troops set signal fires to communicate vital information about British troop movements. Which is pretty interesting, but the aspect that has so attracted me to this site is that from 1902 to 1978 it was home to the Mount Beacon Incline Railway. Traveling 2,200 feet of trackway to 1,540 feet above sea-level, it was the steepest railway in existence during the time of its operation. And so you can probably imagine that it was a pretty intense hike to the top.

Here we are at the bottom at the ruins of the station house.

The beginning of the train tracks, or what is left of them.

At this point there are stairs taking you up the first part of your ascension. But this is just the beginning. After the stairs end there is nearly a mile of trail--not a long hike, but an incredibly steep one. I didn't take any pictures as I was more concerned about making it to the top in one piece.

A beautiful sight after an exhausting hike--the top of Mount Beacon.

The remains of the powerhouse and machinery, which were destroyed by fire in 1983, along with the entire railroad.

I can't fathom how they got this stuff up here more than 100 years ago, when they were relying on mules to carry everything up (and the poor mules could only handle 24 bricks at a time).

The view from the top. I believe the is the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge in the distance. You can just make out the site of Dia Beacon (or so I think).

I'm not sure if this is part of the ruins of the casino (yes, there was a casino up there) or Beaconcrest Hotel. There was also a complex of vacation cottages somewhere around here.


After the rains, a temporary pond has sprung up in the woods.

Apparently the trails continue on for another 8 miles to connect to the Hudson Highlands. But we instead opted to take the steep trek back down to our car.

How I missed out on a pair of Bertoia chairs because I hit the snooze button

Saturday morning I dragged myself out of bed at 6:45 (unheard of!) to head down to an estate sale in Westport, CT. I'd never been to an estate sale before, but this one looked especially good. The former resident was an artist, and in addition to many (accordingly priced) paintings, sculptures, and photographs, she had amassed a huge collection of midcentury furniture, art books, knick knacks, and sewing and embroidery supplies. They were advertising a pair of Bertoia wire chairs, and while they looked a little beat (like everything else in the house), I was up to the challenge of repairing them if the price was right.

I had intended on arriving at 8 a.m. (the official start time) but didn't actually stroll up until around 8:20--only to see the coveted chairs being carried off by someone else. I was so mad I wanted to leave right then. But luckily, I did not.

While they took the time to price the high-end stuff (the jewelry, the art, the furniture), they didn't care too much about the mountain of books and craft supplies that I carried out--they charged me $18 for everything! I love estate sales!

I picked up a few practical items: a yard stick, embroidery hoop, and needle nosed pliers.

Airmail envelopes, greeting card bearing the message "Joyful New Year 1927", and a shear sharpener in its original packaging.

The mountain of books.

Here we have a typography book, The Human Figure in Motion (on Eadweard Muybridge), Abbie Hoffman's Revolution for the Hell of It, a guide to letterpress and lithography, and a museum catalog on Marcel Duchamp.

I don't know that I'll use the letterpress and lithography guide but I love the illustrations contained within.

I picked up a few paperbacks: Alice's Adventures Underground (which apparently is a facsimile of the manuscript that developed into Alice's Adventures in Wonderland), Lord of the Flies, The Art of Aubrey Beardsley (I can't believe I got this one for the equivalent of pennies--it's a leatherbound book published in 1918), Flatland, Other Voices Other Rooms, and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?.

Almost forgot about this French pamphlet of the works of Paul Klee.

On the way out I grabbed this little sculpture of a bull (it was only ten bucks--as Dave said as we were leaving, next thing you know it'll turn out to be made by Picasso or something).

After I got home I looked up Mary Oppenheimer, the woman to whom all of this amazing stuff once belonged, and to my surprise found that she was only 60 years old. I had been picturing a 90 year old lady who'd had most of this stuff for years, but maybe she was just a flea market shopper too. Everything in the house looked to be more more than 30 years old, down to the spools of thread.

While I was happy to leave with my little treasure trove, I couldn't help feeling a tinge of sadness at the fact that this poor woman spent a lifetime collecting and amassing so many amazing things (which, while they did not look well cared for, I'm sure she cared about them), only to die and have a hoard of strangers ransacking her home two months later. By the time I left (around 10:00) there were books strewn all over the floor and dishes were broken (or at least that's what the crash I heard from a few rooms away sounded like). It was a little heartbreaking--but despite those qualms, I think I've found a new thrifting source.

Day trip to North Adams, Mass

On Friday I took the day off and took a drive up to Western Massachusetts to check out the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art--or MASS MoCA, as it is usually called.

One of the most interesting parts about the museum is the site itself, a 13-acre former industrial complex comprised of 26 buildings with interlocking courtyards and bridges.

The site has formerly been occupied (over a period of more than 200 years) by a brick yard, a saw mill, marble works, wagon- and sleigh-makers, an ironworks (which later forged armor plates for the Civil War ship, the Monitor), the Arnold Print Works, Sprague Electric Company, and more--all making for a complex rich in history and visual interest.

Even the bathrooms are cool.

Outside the main entrance is this construction that is part of their KidSpace exhibit. I love that it appears to be growing right out of the second-story window.

It seems they like to grow their trees upside down--pretty amazing!


After leaving the museum we went to the Natural Bridge State Park (although not without nearly an hour of horribly frustrating driving in circles due to Google Maps' inability to actually direct you to the site--which, in their defense, seems oddly hidden away).

This dog kept us company for a few minutes. His friend barked at us a lot though.

Here is the natural bridge, the only naturally formed white marble arch in North America. According to geologists, it is 550 million year old bedrock marble, carved into an arch by the force of glacial melt water more than 13,000 years ago.

And here is some 100+ year-old graffiti. 





Apparently music plays from somewhere in this area at night, an installation set up by MASS MoCA.

While I would have loved to have spent less time angrily driving around looking for it, once we found it the experience paid off.

House tour: craft room

Well, this is it, the last room of the house to tour (other than the basement, but who wants to see that?). I guess it's more of an attic/storage room, but I have also adopted it as the craft room. Since I am short, I can at least stand up in the middle of the room, and that is enough for me.

I "wallpapered" the back wall by making many color photocopies of one sheet of patterned paper and affixing them to the wall with double sided tape (it comes off quite easily--so easily that it sometimes falls off, which half explains the blank spot below the window--I can't explain, however, why I cannot find that fallen piece. I have searched many times and it seems to have vanished into the ether).

Here is my sewing/printing surface. It is actually a kitchen counter from Ikea but since this house actually has counters, I did not need it for its original purpose.


Here we start to get to the part where I cringe a little bit. I often see images of other people's craft rooms on blogs. They are very neat and organized and pretty. That is not my craft room, and I don't think it ever will be. I am a hoarder, especially with bits of paper and fabric and other random objects that I can't let myself throw away because I might be able to use it for something, someday.

That said, above you see a few of the boxes stored underneath the counter (which contain supplies), a wastebasket full of rolls of paper in the corner, a tacklebox of art supplies, stool filled with sewing supplies, and a blanket I knitted a couple years ago which is now falling apart. I have been meaning to sew it back together but for now it sits here on top of the sewing stool.

Please don't yell at me. This is my supply of fabric. Well, actually, the lower shelf and the tote bag are filled with articles of clothing that I have been meaning to alter (for instance, Dave will go to throw away a pair of pants because there is a hole in the knee, but I'll think, "Wait, I might be able to make a skirt out of that!") The pieces of store-bought fabric are in the wicker boxes (and the plastic bag...ugh). The moral of the story is that I have to actually start sewing more, so that the volume of stashed items dissipates.

In the other half of the room we have my ironing board (everything to the right of it is just storage stuff--luggage, winter clothes, etc). There are always wires scattered about because of unfortunately placed electrical sockets (i.e. none anywhere near the window). The little rug used to be our bathmat, which I made by knitting together scraps of T-shirts. Now it lives up here, not really serving a purpose, but I like it too much to get rid of it.

Dave's mom gave us this old children's desk, in which I've stored my printing supplies. I reupholstered the desk chair sometime last year after the original cushion split open.


Inside the file cabinet are various documents, ephemera, and papers I've cut out of magazines (for collages, cards, fliers, etc). My rubber stamps and ink pads are inside the Milk and Cheese lunchbox. The Pee Wee Herman dolls are just fun. (Probably should have reassembled the fallen figures before taking the photo. Now it looks like Dirty Dog is doing a headstand and Pee Wee #3 has just fainted and fallen out of Chairy.)

Lastly, here is my yarn stash, sorted by colors, with my Daniel Johnston tapes stacked on top. I wish my guitars could stand upright but the slanted roof does not allow for that.

Well, there you have it. I have revealed my secret hoarding tendencies to the world. For emphasis, I should probably mention that these photos were taken right after I spent hours cleaning and throwing things away, though I did not go through the fabric heaps (and, admittedly, a good sorting out is probably in order).