A Warm August Evening...

walking the beach,

Xavier takes a moment to daydream.

And as the waves reach closer to him

he plays tag with the sea.

Gotcha!

All the rivers run into the sea;

yet the sea is not full. King Solomon

Fair Winds

Marjorie McLaughlin died August 7th. I'll always remember the date because it's my oldest daughter Nora's birthday. It was a year ago when we went to Florida to attend Marjie's wake and a beautiful reception the day after. I didn't "blog" about it then because during those days it hurt too much to think about, let alone write about. On that day, there was a huge bouquet of blue balloons tied with blue ribbons. Each person took 1 balloon and a sharpie marker. We each wrote our own personal last message to Marjie and then we gathered together outside and waited for the cue to let our messages soar up to the sky all at once. One of Marjie's grandsons named Owen who was very close with his "Nana Kitty", just couldn't bare to let the balloon go. He carefully ripped the ribbon down the center and as the ribbon tore it weakened. The last balloon was on it's way. A thin strip of the ribbon was left in Owen's hand and he held it like a treasure as if it were somehow a direct link to heaven. Marjie didn't have a funeral because it was her wish that her ashes be brought back to Cape Cod and immersed in the waters off Nantucket. Her daughters are the kind of daughters that would make sure their mother's dying wish be granted.
Just a few days ago they made the trip up from Florida carrying the "box". They hired a private fishing boat with a captain, who brought us to a certain spot off of Nantucket Island. Captain Joe dropped the engine and we waited for the boat to ease up. The longitude and latitude were duly charted and recorded and it was right there where we finally laid my sister to rest. Our brother Jack had the important task of making sure the job was done right. From the starboard side Marjie's ashes fell to the water and took to the wind. A sigh of relief mixed with pangs of loss came over me. There was a lull of contemplation as we gently rocked at sea ...before we headed ashore under an orange sunset.

***

Hard To See Shells

My son Tom brought me a gift from the beach...

he calls them "Hard to See Shells" ... thank-you Tom. xox

Ephemera

When I first heard the word EPHEMERA ( pronounced like if ) I thought it was a kind of glass. My husband the collector has since showed me otherwise. Ephemera has to do with collecting paper artifacts. Anything paper or paper related can come under the heading of ephemera, the word is a plural term. Love letters and diaries are wonderful examples and are treasured of course for their sentimental value. But when you really think about how much paper is thrown away it makes sense that something like the 100 year old Heinz pickle die-cut trade card would now be worth more than just a few bucks in this condition.
At first I laughed at how bizarre collecting paper is. I couldn't understand why anyone would care about or even put value on something so simple as a candy bar wrapper or an old ticket stub... but now I look at these items not only as art but as pieces of history. Each item is unique. Some items are common and easy to come by while others are harder to find, scarce or even RARE. The thrill is in the hunt. It's fun to find. The category is so open that inside the category are subcategories. A collector may concentrate on a specific topic for example trade cards or post cards. I'm particularly fond of metamorphic cards. These were advertisements that showed one picture but the same picture transformed into another. I have a collection of several antique trade cards that have frogs on them. Each one is different and they all are fun.

Through the years I've learned a great respect for this field of collecting. I hope this little chat has broadened your horizons. I'm not saying to save every cereal box...just one of every kind. ~wink~ Of course if you did, that would mean you are a " TYPE " collector.

to see more go to http://www.capecodcollectorsshop.com

New Online Shop

For a long time I've been toying with the idea of having an online shop for my husband. We have a little Maw and Paw shop here on Cape Cod. Actually...I guess you could say it's just Paw's shop because the only thing I do is occasionally dust and decorate. I tried to get our shop name for a web address, it's called The Collector's Shop. Although that url is available it's a premium name and it would cost a lot more than we can afford. So, instead of being The Collector's Shop it's called http://www.capecodcollectorsshop.com/ .

You are all invited to come see.

But the only thing is...there's really not much to see because I haven't added anything for sale yet. I'm just excited and wanted to share the news with you.

Super Hero

My Super Hero Son,

The strong and silent type.

Making Madonnas

In my profile I declare "I'm just me." Do you wonder what that means? If I went to your blog and I read that you were "Just You"...I wouldn't have a clue as to what that even means; unless I knew you already.

In my case it means that I'm kind of shy. I'm reluctant to tell you what a weirdo I really am so I just try to keep it short and to the point thus hoping you will think that by stating "I'm just me." I mean that I'm just like you too. I wish it were so. .... sigh ....

Anyway... there's no use trying to explain who I am because it doesn't matter. Like I said -- I'm just me. All that really matters is that you are welcome here and I'm very happy to share.

Now about this post....it was supposed to be about my art work and not about me. I like to needle felt. I'm so passionate about my art that I get a little insecure when it comes time to show it. I know I'm not alone when I tell you my feelings here, that it never seems done or ready or good enough or in the case of making Madonnas -worthy of it's subject matter.

These ornaments are inspired by the whole concept of unconditional love. This is my impression of our Blessed Mother Mary and Lord Jesus. I like creating this theme because it's soothes my soul. I'm more aware of my own creation. Much of my time creating anything is spent with hymns, prayer and supplication. Needle felting takes a lot of time and the mind does wander. So creating a theme like this helps me to focus on something of substance and to forget for awhile all worldly cares. I'm always amazed to witness clean, carded, raw wool be transformed from pure fluff into an object of art. In this case the object is also a soft reminder of tender love.

Tom's Big Catch

We were all excited for Tom when he caught this fish and cooked it up for dinner.

*******

Just imagine how many dinners this latest catch provided!

Tom's Large Mouth Bass

38" long weighing in at 20lbs

caught using a jig

This is the Grandpa who taught son Tom how to fish,

many years ago.

I'm sitting here on a rainy summer night snacking on these delicious salt and pepper pistachio nuts.

I have memories of eating the red kind of pistachio nuts and getting the dye all over my fingers, lips and tongue. Ugh! I can't stand that. I used to suck on the whole nut and crack it open with my teeth. Dear friends, no matter how big and open the nuts appear to be please resist the impulse. Do not use your teeth as a nut cracker. Here's a tip. Take an open shell and stick it into the opening of the hard to open nut and then twist it open. Voila! My sister Carole taught me this valuable lesson many years ago and I'm happy to pass this tip to all my fellow pistachio loving buddies.

Cut Flowers

Mmmm Mmm Good

My Back Yard

.

Summer School

I almost forgot the hours of fun I used to have playing school when I was little. Propping up stuffed animals as my students. My classroom was at the very top of a staircase and I used a Romper Room toy blackboard. My name was Miss Jean and at the end of each class I would recite the Romper Bomper Stomper Boo chant while gazing through a badminton racket for my magic mirror. .......sigh....... That was back around 1960.
I'm not sure how many of you can relate. Excuse me for reminiscing.

Here is a recent picture of Xavier and Dylan playing school in their own way.

I wonder if they will remember their soft cuddly students 40 or 50 years from now?

It was in May

Bring flowers of the rarest,
bring blossoms the fairest,

from garden and woodland and hillside and dale;

our full hearts are swelling,
our glad voices telling

the praise of the loveliest flower of the vale!

So much to do...so little to say

see you very soon

Clematis Vine

Royal Velvet Clematis.

Evening

Sweet Violets

SWEET VIOLETS

At my steps and in my soul
the sweet violets of early spring.
Nodding heads and waving hearts
in mass profusion what joy they bring.
---sigh---
Isn't that lovely? And Violet I do mean it.
But here's the dirt little Miss V.
consider well the source
Steer clear of the beds and borders

or your luck will run it's course.
Persnickety gardeners curse you
for your annual brigade.
You mind your P's and Q's
to make it in my shade.
---smile---

Come on now ...please be happy.

You have lots of room to roam.

We've known eachother all our lives.

You're welcome in my home.

- Elaine M. Vermette 2009

Near and Dear

The house sparrow
is a common little bird in my neighborhood.

Often overlooked and in spite of it's many short comings is always welcome here.

“I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.”

Henry David Thoreau