Celebrating the Fourth on the farm

No doubt it was a foolish thing to do.

 

I just drove 1400 miles and back again hoping to see a hometown parade, eat bratwurst and homemade pie, and watch fireworks. Rain chased me in and out of Wisconsin, provided sloshy driving through road construction demolition derby lanes but welcomed me back to Texas. Traffic was not as heavy as I expected confirmed by national news broadcasts announcing travel was down another 2.6%. I suppose economic woes are convincing people to stay home.

 

Unfortunately I missed the parade—and the brats—and the home-made pie with ice cream—and watched the fireworks from a distant viewpoint for only a few minutes before tumbling into bed.

 

The two days I spent were short but oh so wonderful.

 

Here I am in the corn field

Each morning began with drinking coffee while sitting on the front doorsteps overlooking the bean fields with the fog rising from the distant Wisconsin River. I sat and gossiped with my good friend while plucking dill heads to freeze for pickle making and snipping the leaves for dill-weed spread. Raspberries were ripe and I had grand intentions of picking them for a batch of jam but I ate them all while I worked on thinning the patch. Glen and I rode out to my favorite spot on my farm—through waist high grasses, surprised a deer, caught our feet on firewood hidden under the grass, and hacked our way through head high blackberry bushes. We also toured the Villa Louis, a mansion on St. Feriole’s Island, ate lunch at the Depot bar overlooking the Mississippi River, and came home to pull weeds in the garden and pick leaf lettuce.

 

Thistle blooms

The farm house is slowly moving along; I inspected the cupola on the barn and the interior pigeon proofing—and while chatting with my youngest brother was thrilled to see a bald eagle circling high above. We took pictures of us standing in the corn—to have a good crop it must be knee high by the Fourth. Flowers were in bloom everywhere including thistles. These are considered noxious weeds and I am supposed to have a plan to work on eradicating them on the farm—but the blooms are so beautiful.

 

Things seem to grow so bountifully and without the effort I seem to need here in Texas.

 

It is good to be home; but already I am looking forward to a return trip.  

 

 As usual, more photos can be found on smugmug at

http://ysr612.smugmug.com/gallery/8846284_buEE2#586290503_Bdvso

Wild Garlic

Wild Garlic

In a moment of over ambition, I signed up to swap a flower quilt. Work and a lot of other things caught up with me and I was nearly two weeks late in sending this to my swap partner. It isn’t exactly the kind of flower associated with Texas, however, wild garlic is so thick that my eyes water when I mow. The flowers are a lovely spidery purple on top of pale green stems.

Chickadee

Chickadees

This contribution to the SAQA Square Foot auction is painted with dye thickened slightly on an alginated cotton, embellished with sparkly sheers, and quilted.  During the wintertime one of the most cheerful birds were the little chickadees who didn’t seem to mind the cold weather or snow and hopped about from tree branch to another hunting seeds. Mom always tossed out the bread crumbs from the huge plate of toast she made every morning in the oven–they busily cleaned them all up but never seemed to argue with each other over the best crumbs.

Madonna in a Crazy World

Madonna in a Crazy World

One of the more fun donation projects I’ve done was a piece for ‘Put a Roof over our Head” for the American Quilt Alliance. It was an odd shape; a square with an equilateral triangle on top creating a simple house shape. Not only was it challenging but I was pleased my piece sold to a very pleased collector in Lake Jackson Texas.

 

This year’s theme was Crazy Quilts but limited to a 16 inch square.

 

I pulled out several bags of cool purples, blues, and blue-greens scraps along with light and medium yellows—I had sorted all my scraps into ziplocks organized by color during one of my long workweeks away from home. Sewing them into roughly rectangular forms didn’t take too long  and became rather mesmerizing after a time.

 

My original plan included using a thick black line to indicate a figure of a mother holding a baby; a vibrant yellow was a better choice. I pillow-cased the backing and stitched a sleeve and label in place—and sent it on its way.

Vegetable Printing on the Surface of the Sun

Brussel Sprout Leaves, Cucumber, and Avocado Peel

Today was supposed to be a quiet day, spent resting and eating a high protein-no carbohydrate-no dairy products-lots of water and fasting after 11 in preparation for a PET scan. Breakfast was a boiled egg and three slices of bacon and lots of coffee—I checked and they said that was okay. I happily spent the morning uploading my Honduras blog notes and did a bit of editing on some of my photo galleries as available hard drive space on my laptop is shrinking at an alarming rate.

 

Vegetable printing at the shop was my next project plus I needed to see how my garden was faring. There was one large cucumber, the grass needed mowing but I wasn’t supposed to exercise today and it was so hot I don’t think I could have sat on the mower without being soldered into place.  I sorted through a few boxes from Art Camp while waiting for the air conditioner to cool the interior—why does everything always look so much more interesting when other folks have packed it away and it is in a different order than you remember?

 

Hand-dyed cotton yellow to blue

Two hours later with sweat dripping off my nose and down my back, I packed up my paint, vegetables, and a few pieces of fabric and headed home. The air conditioner refused to do more than blow hot air around.

 

For some reason, I prefer to use only home-grown produce as my stamps. My first effort was with a squash and a lemon. Today I used dried Brussel Sprout leaves, avocado peel (I didn’t grow this one but I do have an avocado tree growing in my back yard), and a cucumber cut in half lengthwise and across.

 

Cotton Velveteen

Test-printing was in my sketchbook and on today’s newspaper, then on two hand-dyed cotton fabrics and a cotton velveteen. The velveteen was scrumptious; the sketchbook moderately interesting, and the cottons rather unexciting. Of course, there is always embellishing and stitching and cutting it up and recombining that may make these pieces absolutely fabulous.  I cleaned my brush on the sketchbook and the fabric and let everything dry.

 

The Brussel Sprout leaves were really great even though they were like leather; the one cut in half was too small to be interesting and the cucumber smelled nice but wasn’t very intriguing.

Art Camp

Group photo

Meeting at Festival once a year was just not enough and so the Fantastically Frabjous Fractured Fairy-Tale Fabricators decided to meet in the summer. Our meeting place was a fishing cabin on Toledo Bend mostly because I’d never been there and I was making the arrangements. I never quite know what I’ll be in the mood to work on and so the back of my truck (and cab) were jam-packed full! I’d discovered the luxury of my own rolly chair versus folding chairs or straight back chairs, I was sure we would need an iron and ironing board and then there was THE PROJECT. (Note—each of us brought an iron and there was an ironing board in the cabin).

 

After discovering some vintage books at work with hand-sewn signatures and good quality paper, and useful only as paperweights (Current Therapy 1987 was the most recent), I appropriated them for THE PROJECT. I had sent out assignments for the previous two months to cut out various things from junk mail to use as collage elements but first we needed to prep the books by tearing out roughly every other page. Then I began applying gesso to pages. I had thought we would spend one day on this step, but it ended up taking me nearly three days and I stopped only because I ran out of gesso.

 

It was very hot and even I was wilting under the heat on the porch. The air conditioning in the cabin had difficulties but fortunately a repair man was located and some sort of wiring was set up to keep the cabin interior cool. Cissy kept an eye on the repair process while basting a quilt over the porch railing and reported each step. I won’t repeat them here as they involved electrical shocks, beer, personal hygiene issues, a lot of staring at the innards of the unit and discussions of green wires versus orange ones being grounds.

 

Meanwhile, each of us prepared one evening meal. I went first with hamburgers as I was most nervous about cooking for ladies and figured I would begin with a very low standard, Sherry did taco salad, Cissy made a wonderful shrimp and avocado pasta salad, and Suzanne made a full meal featuring tilapia. Since I am an early riser, I made coffee and biscuits or sweet rolls with the help of the Pilsbury DoughBoy. Lunch was cold cuts and leftover supper—and then there was a huge bowl of chocolate and other snacky items including individually wrapped dried plums. Bullwinkle presided over all the cooking but sometimes dipped into the prune stash.

 

We played guess the meaning of an oddball word in the dictionary, go fish with art paintings, and a really strange version of Scrabble. And then we sewed! Suzanne quilted a very large green quilt that had been just fabric two weeks earlier plus a baby shower panel quilt—they were completed and bound and slept under before she left. Cissy worked on a large T-shirt quilt which was also bound and slept under. Sherry finished a Homeless Quilt, a Boys Haven Turning Twenty quilt, a mystery quilt from Festival 2 years ago plus started and finished a fun top called Pointless Wonder. I bound my nephew’s wedding quilt and slept under it. According to my grandmother and father, to give a quilt good luck to its new owner, the maker must sleep under it but I think my grandmother just wanted an excuse for a nap.

 

Jeanelle joined us on Thursday and we presented her with some ‘gifts’ we had made. I had spent ten minutes making up ‘kits’ for this project; we allowed ourselves one hour to complete them and then I made an additional gift of a boa. This boa was composed of leftover pink and black scrap quilt trimmings and miles of peach colored underwear lace. The ‘gifts’ all had to be USEFUL and so she received a ‘prune cozy’, a necklace, a purse, and an idea holster—all made with underwear lace, pink and white gauzy fabric, and upholstery fabric. She received these items wearing a lovely $2 tiara discovered in the birthday candle section of the local grocery store while waiting for a pound of turkey ham to be sliced.

 

Our last afternoon was spent working on our books. First we put our names in the inside cover. Then we stood in a circle and passed our books to the left, worked on a spread using paint and glue and stamps, let them dry, and repeated the process until everyone had worked in everyone’s book. The last page was completed after dark and Cissy put plastic bags over her feet so she wouldn’t get mosquito bites.

 

Too soon it was time to go home. The cabin owners oohed and aahed over all our work, assured us that we were NOT too rowdy (there is a large sign stating Persons who are Rowdy will be asked to Leave and forfeit their Deposit and we did laugh quite a lot particularly when taking our group photo). We pored over the atlas and chose a new destination for next year.

 

 More photos are at smugmug at

http://ysr612.smugmug.com/WeirSewFine%20Studio%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20Sylvia/823890

Going Home from Honduras

Christ overlooking Tegucigalpa

 Although the medical-dental team would gladly see patients until an hour before our return flight, there is much to do with packing up and securing equipment. The folding dental chairs, sterilizer, and generator were stored in the container. Those folding chairs are a luxury as sometimes the local dentists work from a straight back chair—wooden if they are lucky—but more likely one of those plastic stacking chairs sold for just a few dollars at the end of each summer.

 

We ride in the school bus back to Tegucigalpa mid-day; all of us are sad to think that we will leave the next day but glad to see familiarities of a hotel lounge, shops, and restaurants. Terry and I decide to venture out in the city; the art museum is our first destination. A cab is summoned by the concierge who assures us that he is very safe.

 

The cab driver speaks excellent English and offers a sight-seeing tour. First we climb the mountain to overlook Tegucigalpa. We stand nearly at the feet of Christ overlooking the city. Flowers are blooming and I wish we could spend an entire afternoon there walking amongst the gardens.

 

Both of us were impressed with the Art Museum which is housed in an old convent. Two other visitors offered suggestions about other museums to visit. Again I could have gladly spent an afternoon in the patio enjoying the flowers.

 

The evening meal was in the hotel restaurant with each member roasted—gently—with a special token gift.

 

Our flight was not until late afternoon and so Terry and I set out again to explore the city with the assistance of our taxi driver from the previous day. We toured several churches including the Basilica where the Cardinal of Honduras was commissioning new priests. Our taxi driver was most solicitous and watched over us carefully, not allowing us to be outside without his careful eye. Interestingly, the Cardinal has his own bodyguards armed with automatic rifles and dressed in camo.

 

Airports seem to be same everywhere—a lot of waiting and standing and moving luggage here and there. The flight was over-booked and a tropical storm hovered over the airport necessitating arrival flights to be diverted to San Pedro Sula. There was a great cheer when after three hours the diverted flights arrived.

 

Everyone rushed to get on board but connecting flights for most of the team members had already left by the time we boarded. All I had to do was clear customs, collect my luggage, retrieve my truck from the parking lot and drive home.

 

Already I am looking forward to next year’s return trip.

 More photos are on smugmug at

http://ysr612.smugmug.com/gallery/8739752_aqa4t#578148740_uVS6b

Up the mountain on Thursday

At the pharmacy window

Today the team split up as usual into two teams. Our assignments were in two separate communities located on opposite sides of the road halfway to Yuscaran. The bus could not navigate either of these roads. The plan was to take the bus as far as we could go, split into two groups and take 4 wheel drive trucks to our final destinations.

 

We had some confusion as to which duffle bags of medicine went on which truck, who was supposed to be on which truck, and where the lunches were—but finally we all loaded up and headed out. I was repeatedly offered a ride inside the truck by Paco—who was quite appalled that La Doctora wished to ride in the back of truck. However, my previous experience riding inside the truck meant one’s head frequently hit the inside of the cab as the springs were not all that great-==and most importantly, I could get the best pictures from outside. And I was most determined to get photos.

 

Our drive took us over an hour. Much of the road was over deep ravines, some of the road was washed out at points, and we were grateful for the motorcycle that preceded us and investigated the turns and bridges. Periodically Don and I would wave at Fred and Clint who were riding in the back of Dr. Lee’s truck who followed us at a respectful distance. His truck had very little power and needed a good run at some of the hills.

 

The church is a marvel. Two missionary teams built that church—and it is superb. The floor is a lovely laid tile with an inlaid cross; there is a cross behind the altar, grillwork fills the windows, and there is an absolutely spectacular view. The workers were well prepared for us and had the area set up with tables and chairs.

 

Patients arrived slowly at first but then we had plenty to see.  Clint, the newly minted physician sat with first me and then Bill. Finally we had him see the patient with Ellen, the interpreter, and have Bill oversee his diagnosis and treatment plan. I saw an 8 year old girl wearing a T-shirt saying “It’s all about Me, Me, and Me” Again we completed the medical portion of our visit and I translated the T-shirt for her—“Todos los Mundos es por Mi, Mi y Mi”. The mother laughed and said no, that was usually not true. Another small boy had a T-shirt that proclaimed “ this is the important choice’ I translated that as well—and the little boy looked most surprised as the choices were all about video games.

 

We did not break for lunch until 2. I was too hot to eat much; Sammie Lee, Carol and Don declined most of their lunch. I passed out the plates of food to the workers and the patients. Don the pharmacist patiently poured out the tamarindo juice for the workers and the patients.  Later we learned that the other team’s lunch had fallen off the back of the truck and that they had then backed over it—creating very squishy sandwiches.

 

The day passed quickly and suddenly it was nearly 4. The pharmacy finished up their work with the help of Fred—and I had the opportunity to read some of my Bilingual books to the children. The adults were just as interested in the story as the children—and I gave my books at the end to the pastor/lay preacher at the church. He had read several of the books –to himself at lunchtime.

 

I spoke to him at the end of the day—about how important education is for the children. That is, indeed, my first love, giving children the love of reading. Reading transformed my life and I wish to pass that opportunity on to others. When I see their faces, I see myself as a child===not really knowing that life could be different than what I knew—but reading provided an insight into an entirely different world.

 

We were all pleased to see Dr. Lee’s truck at the end of the day. I distributed Carol’s stash of lunch items including canned sardines. There was much laughter as I explained that my husband loved canned sardines but I did not—and therefore the sardines were only for a man.

 

Once again, Paco was most appalled that La Doctora would wish to ride in the back of the truck because a deluge of rain was a good possibility. Since we had dispensed most of our medicine, our duffle bags and coolers fit into the back of just one truck and so we had twelve Hondurans hop into the back of the truck with Don, the pharmacist and myself.

 

 

Mountain view

Two of the ladies chatted with me—as much as possible while bouncing and trying to see each other above the heads of eager children. They told me it was a 3 hour walk to Yuscaran, the nearest large city by taking shortcuts down the mountain. We dropped them off at various parts of the road; some of the paths seeming little more than cow-paths up the mountain. Parts of the road appeared more washed out than before and it was clear that a significant rainfall had occurred within the last hour or so. None of us wanted to be on that mountain road in the dark.

 

When we arrived at the main road, the bus had already left with the other group. Dr. Lee and Paco drove us all back to Zamarano—and wished us a good trip—bien viaje.

 

Tomorrow we pack up and go to Tegucigalpa to catch our plane for home on Saturday.

 

As always for me, the last day is the best day.

 

 more photos are on smugmug at

http://ysr612.smugmug.com/gallery/8634171_HXcbP#569722495_UVQJg

Zarzal

Laundry

Rain and the sound of moving furniture woke me this morning around 2. The tile roof was leaking but not in my room. Rivers of water formed in the hallways and the maids were busy with mop buckets and brooms.  The floor of one guest room was completely covered with water with the beds shoved into what must have been the only dry spot.

 

Breakfast was an omelet and more of that wonderful coffee. We loaded up again with the planned destination of Zarzal and Oropoli. When we got to the turnoff for Zarzal, we were met by Paco. The bus would not be able to negotiate the road after the heavy rain. The medication duffels were transferred to the back of the trucks and we bumped down a rocky road.

 

Our clinic location was in a community building. The light was not good and the area was very small. Squeezing three doctors, a dentist and the pharmacy in such a small place was a challenge. Triage was set up outside and we saw patients fairly steadily through the morning.

 

Lunch was a cold cheeseburger, a salad of cucumber and lettuce, and pears. Fred and I took a walk up the hill and discovered a lovely partially built luxury house. We scooted under the barb wire fence and enjoyed the wonderful view. The other team was diverted to Yuscaran because of the flooding of the bridge on the way to Oropoli. They quickly saw all of their patients and returned to assist us.

 

Our secondary clinic was set up in that partially built house on the top of the house. Everyone laughed and ducked under the barb wire fence and set up their clinic areas despite lack of tables and chairs.

 

At the end of the day we returned to Zamarano in time for a lovely dinner of chicken and vegetables accompanied by a paper cup of white wine courtesy of Dr. Compton.

 

photos are on smugmug at

http://ysr612.smugmug.com/gallery/8633398_drWbD#569667050_ywa79

Yuscaran on Tuesday

Bird on the roof

Yuscaran is an old city with cobbled narrow streets up and down hills. Our bus driver, Hector, makes his way through this maze of roads and never breaks a sweat although the streets are so narrow we could put our hands out the windows and touch the walls on each side.

 

The dentists are busy in the building across the street and we set up clinic in a public building. The light is not good; there is very little air circulating, and children race up and down playing soccer with a plastic bottle. It is very noisy and I struggle to hear blood pressures.

 

Today’s patients seem better fed, indeed some of them need to lose weight. They seem cleaner and many of the ladies are wearing makeup. I was surprised to learn that the perfect place to keep one’s lipstick is snuggled in one’s brassiere next to the roll of lempira. My grandmother always kept a handkerchief tucked under her strap—it wouldn’t do for a lady to be reaching anywhere but close to her collar.

 

Clint seeing his first patient

Most of the patients are wearing American style clothing but there are a few older ladies with the traditional blouse and skirt with fancy apron. The aprons are covered with ruffles and lace, and occasionally some embroidery. These ladies have no teeth and appear worn with stubby hands and swollen knees. Their entire day is spent walking up and down those hills carrying firewood or water or food.

 

Usually I see family groups with several children or one child and the mother.  Just before lunch I see a ten year old girl with her six year old brother and her mother. The siblings jostle one another for what looks to be the best place at my desk and the mother settles their dispute with a firm word and look. The little girl is wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Take my brother please”. I ask her if she knows what it means, she giggles and says no. I translate it for her—and then her mother laughs and I laugh too. We agree, children are children.

 

Our afternoon is not busy and so we pack up. Pharmacy must finish the prescriptions we wrote and so I am free to wander around a bit. Bill and Clint watch an impromptu soccer match in the courtyard—played with a small plastic ball and the players wearing dress shoes—probably their only pair. The last patient gets her medications and we load the bus and head to Ojo de Agua to pick up the other team. Pharmacy there was not finished and our pharmacy team members lend a hand. My offer to assist was declined and so I went in search of a flame tree. I am not totally pleased with my photos as if the light is perfect, the trees have the appearance of being literally on fire. But I am not here solely to take photos.

 

Flame tree blossoms

The mango trees are laden with fruit in various stages of ripeness. There was a beautiful sunset over the mountains. I try to ask the children what the Spanish word for sunset is in Spanish but it was beyond my limited Spanish. I ask the bilinguals what the word is—and they do not know either. I cheat and look it up in my Franklin dictionary—it is puesta del sol—I think the root is from repuesta which would be repose  or perhaps nap.

 

We are back to the compound early for a truly wonderful dinner of baked chicken and fresh vegetables.