"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant."
Robert Louis Stevenson

Monday, September 17, 2012

My Table Painting Project and Small Kitchen Remodel

Lots of projects in the works

I used Behr Semi-Gloss paint in White Wool.

I just finished painting this table and will put on a sealer.  
Now it is on to painting my kitchen cabinets and moving the island wing to the wall.

Down to the cement
We will move this section of cabinets to the wall by the glass door.  The dishwasher will be right next to the sink.  

This next group of photos are from 2009 when I removed the overhead cabinet that extended all the way to the end of the counter below. It was so dark in the kitchen when this was up.  Once I took it down the light just flowed through.  I lost the cabinet space, but

My inspiration kitchens below.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Windy With a Chance of Flying Seedpods

Our Mighty White Ash Tree Full with Seeds (click on the photo to enlarge)

We started the week with high temperatures and high humidity; humidity at this time of year for our area is rare, very rare.  I don't remember a September that has had such high humidity.  My atomic clock read HI in the humidity area most of the week.  I had not see that before, in fact I thought at first it was reading 111%.

Today has taken a complete turn-around.  It is still hot, but our typical dry, September Santana Winds have arrived.  My local weather link states that we should expect winds coming from the ESE at 11 mph. they have the direction right but I think the winds are closer to 20 mph.  

I will share a few photos of what I deal with after the winds at this time of year.  We have a White Ash tree and if you have ever been one of the (un) lucky ones to have one of these trees you know what a mess they can make when they begin to shed the millions, if not billions of seed pods they produce.  Not only do these trees have pods at this time of year but they shed some of the pods when green..  Usually that will accompany them with a fallen branch or two that hits the top of our house with such force that you think you just had a piece of a plane hit the roof.  We never seem to trim it enough in the spring to keep the high winds from bringing a few of the weaker branches down.

Flower bed below the tree
The seedpods spin round and round like little helicopter blades until they finally come to rest on the ground.
Paved walk-way under the tree, this runs the full length of the west side of the house.  Lots of pods!
Being a person who enjoys crafts, I look at the pods now and then and try to think of something I could make with them.  Maybe a necklace, but that would be too sharp on the tip ends.  They look like fairy wings but I have not come up with a way of using them for that...
The back patio this afternoon

The pile I swept up this morning

Under the Hydrangeas in the Front
If left to mother nature hundreds of these seed pods sprout up in the spring.  You don't want that!  The small plants send out tremendous, long roots that hang on for dear life when you try to pull them up.  I have pulled my back many times doing just that.  
Can you see the roof of our house, covered with seed pods?  The Ash Tree is to the right.

More to come.

They Call the Wind Mariah
Way out west, they got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess, the fire's Joe and
They call the wind Mariah

O no, Mariah blows the stars around

And sends the clouds a-flying
Mariah makes the mountain sounds
Like folks were up there dying
Mariah, They call the wind Mariah

Saturday, September 1, 2012

An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy

An August Midnight

A shaded lamp and a waving blind, 

And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:

On this scene enter--winged, horned, and spined - 

A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore; 

While 'mid my page there idly stands 

A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .

Thus meet we five, in this still place, 

At this point of time, at this point in space.

- My guests parade my new-penned ink, 

Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.

"God's humblest, they!" I muse. Yet why? 

They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

by Thomas Hardy

Farewell Sweet August