Grandmother Spider

Grandmother Spider is a powerful spirit in the mythology of several indigenous peoples of the Western hemisphere. She appeared in legends of the extinct Arawak people in the Bahamas and may have been the principal diety of the pre-Columbian Teotihuacan civilization.

In Choctaw legend she gave humans the gift of fire, enabling civilization to develop. She also taught the people how to combine earth and fire to create pottery and to spin and weave.

In Southwest tribes she is known as the Earth Goddess. In some legends she and the Sun God together created life. In another, she is the sole original being, ancient and lonely. She also is called the weaver of the Web of Life. In one story she created the stars by flinging dewdrops caught in her web into the sky.

The Greeks called this goddess Gaia, the daughter of Chao. She is the earth and married to Uranus, heaven.

To me, Grandmother Spider is the feminine, the giver of life. She is the creative force. 

Four years ago I started making a Grandmother Spider mask to honor her. This project stalled for several years because I couldn’t figure out how to attach her legs. Recently a solution came to me. She is finished and I am proud to present her here.

I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that shortly after putting the finishing touches on Grandmother Spider, I used my Bugzooka to capture a spider in my kitchen. No worry – I released it outdoors.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

Reorganization

I can’t explain why one of our kitchen drawers contains kitchen towels, dishcloths, bar rags, cooking thermometers, chewing gum, matchbooks and lozenges. There’s little logic in putting all these things together; that’s just the arrangement that evolved and I dare not change it.

A couple of years ago I completely rearranged my sewing room/studio in what seemed a logical order. Then, when we needed wire, for example, I couldn’t remember where I had put it. I’ve spent two years searching for things and finally have a mental map of where they are located.

If I reorganized the kitchen drawers it would take two more years to become accustomed to the order of things. It doesn’t make sense, but we know where things are, although I’m still looking for a couple of tools that disappeared in the sewing room reorganization. I won’t make that mistake again.

I’m not changing anything. I may not have much time left and I don’t want to waste it looking for things. Instead of trying to organize my house, I prefer to admire the oriental poppies’ fleeting beauty. They are very well organized.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

Parties Through The Ages

It’s Saturday night, Dennis is at his high school reunion and the only excitement in Paradise is a view of flooding in San Antonio as reported by the Weather Channel. Saturday night used to be party night.

During my twenties someone would call friends and say, “I’m having a party on Saturday.” When guests arrived at the dumpy apartment, most carrying a six-pack of beer, the host laid out a couple of bowls of potato chips and provided a cooler with ice for the beer. Testosterone dominated the atmosphere.

In my thirties parties were more up-scale. The hosts provided dip made from sour cream and Lipton’s onion soup mix to go with the chips and beer. One year, for my then-husband’s birthday, I made ten pounds of spiced shrimp. We also attended dreadful theme parties at the country club. Once when I refused to dance with a drunk he said, “Well, the hell with you, then.” That was same night I walked into the elegant ladies powder room to witness a tipsy woman tumble off an armless chair onto the floor, passed out, as they say. 

Parties in my forties were vastly different. I had left suburbia and started post-graduate studies. Large groups of my fellow students congregated to listen to music, sit on the floor in semi-darkness and smoke dope or drink jug wine. No one remembers whether there was food, although I do recall that Tim and I once fried twenty pounds of chicken for a gathering in my 1920’s bungalow.

By the time my fifties rolled around parties revolved around academic circles. White wine was in vogue along with cheese trays, crackers and olives. Vegetables or, if you will, crudités, had their debut as party food. Everyone stood up and mingled, searching for common ground beyond the university department. This also the decade when dinner parties were de rigueur. Four couples usually made up the party and the hostess served appetizers and a three-course meal. Wine was served. Conversation again centered on university politics.

In my sixties most parties centered around graduate students in Dennis’ program. These often were pot-luck dinners, with the hostess providing a main course. Various faculty wives took turns providing the venue. Wine was still the drink of choice but the food improved considerably.

Now, in my seventies, the closest thing to a party I’ve participated in was a reception following a memorial service. To quote Lyle Lovett, “It made me happy seeing all those people I ain’t seen since the last time somebody died.”

Tomorrow Dennis will attend another kind of party, his mother’s 95^th birthday celebration. Cake and punch will be served. There won’t be any wine.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

Late May Day

This May has been unusually cool, cloudy and rainy. A freeze blackened the potato plants and killed most of the gooseberry blossoms. It may have ruined the apple blossoms, too, but I haven’t been to the pasture to check.

Today is cool, more like Colorado than Kansas, just 69 degrees. Pam, our yard and garden helper, is lining the garden fence with wood mulch to keep out weeds and grass. I’ve been wandering around outside, looking and taking photos.

I started in the garden. I’m happy that seed starting has moved into Phase 4; tomatoes, sweet potatoes, basil and parsley are in the ground. They don’t show up in this photo, which is dominated by onions, garlic, shallots, broccoli, cauliflower, and, in the far right, the potatoes, which have started new growth after being frozen.

Phase 5 of seed starting is also in progress. This is the stage of dispersing extra plants to friends, family and neighbors. The plant tray holds heirloom tomatoes, basil, parsley and pimento peppers ready to give away. 

In the memorial, where ashes of friends are scattered, the wild phlox is blooming beside a stone bench. The prayer beads were left by friends of one of the deceased whose ashes lie here.

Heading back to the house I noticed a leaf caught under the door sill.

But, on closer inspection, it turned out to be a moth, no doubt scouting out the venue for our annual moth festival.

My walkabout was a wonderful distraction from anxiety about my up-coming shoulder surgery. I’ve had too many operations to repair and patch up rheumatoid arthritis damage. This will be the fifteenth or sixteenth and I’m weary of being in the shop for repairs. Nature, music and books help distract me from pain and worry. I’m lucky to live in Paradise.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

Good Days, Bad Days

When I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis,  my co-worker and friend Retta Lou said, “You will have good days and bad days.”

I remember answering, “I want all my days to be good.”

But that’s not how life is. We can’t have all good days, and we’re lucky if we don’t have all bad days. Actually, most days are a mix of good and bad.

Today is a case in point. It started with something bad. Dennis discovered that overnight a predator, probably one of our neighbor’s cats, got the baby cardinals that hatched in a nest below our kitchen window. Now the nest is empty and deserted, just as I had feared.

But then, something good happened. Our friend Dick called to say he would soon arrive at our house with a load of horse manure. While this may not seem like a good thing to some folks, to gardeners a load of manure is a gift from the gods.

Then a bad thing happened. My left shoulder, which had been stiff and sore all day, dislocated. Popping it back in place was, well, very painful.

Next the weather service announced that we were under a tornado watch. Damaging winds and hail were expected. But this storm turned out to be a good thing for us, because the storm system brought only a nice little rain, just what the yard, garden and perennial beds needed.

Good day? Bad day? No, just another day of life, a grand and interesting mix of events.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

Temper Tantrum

Yesterday I behaved like a two-year-old having a melt-down. I had a temper tantrum. It was a doozy.

To tell the story I have to go back to last Monday evening when I banged my arm against a door handle, which tore an inch-long flap of skin. I applied a bandaid with some antibiotic ointment.

The next day the wound started bleeding again, so I went to my doctor’s office to have it dressed. The nurse washed it with saline solution and applied a large square of Tegaderm, which adhered to my skin, completely covering the wound.

Tegaderm is an interesting product; transparent, adhesive, waterproof, it essentially seals the wound, but allows air in. The nurse said the dressing would fall off in a week and that the wound would meantime heal. Fine.

Yesterday morning while I was cleaning the kitchen countertop, I brushed my arm against the metal mixer bowl handle, re-injuring the wound. Looking at my arm through the transparent Tegaderm I saw bright blood pooling under the dressing. What a set-back!

That’s when the temper tantrum started. I raged out of frustration, disappointment and helplessness. I shouted, I cried, I lay on the bed and pounded my feet on the mattress. I roared through the house, keening.

Luckily no one was around to witness this event. I was able to vent to my heart’s content without anyone trying to comfort me. When I finally ran out of steam, I felt much, much better and went outside to weed a flower bed.

Now I know how little Zander used to feel when he went into melt-down. This may have implications of second childhood, but I don’t care. Sometimes we are inconsolable and have to scream a while.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer

My May Gardening

Things are happening in the big outdoor garden, but today I’m focusing on the cold frame and indoor plant starting.

Two hot days scared the lettuce and spinach, who seemed to be saying, “Quick! Reproduce before we die.” I rushed out to harvest some of the lettuce that hadn’t yet bolted and brought in a peck basketful. (A peck is a quarter of a bushel.)

Spinach plants have been putting up seed stalks for a couple of weeks, and now the lettuce plants are shooting up in preparation for blooming. We will let these plants bloom and when they begin to dry up I will harvest their seeds for next fall’s cold frame planting. No commercial seed beats home-grown and saved seeds. What’s more, we will have four kinds of lettuce seed and two kinds of spinach seeds that won’t cost a penny.

Romaine lettuce in the other side is slower to bolt, but clearly it is on its way, particularly the tall one in the back of this photo. My refrigerator won't hold any more lettuce, so I'll harvest some of the romaine to give to neighbors, leaving two or three to go to seed.

Inside the house, the sweet potato slips are proliferating while the mother potatoes are still forming new sprouts. There are at least two dozen slips, one of which is in a pot of soil and vining. Even the Japanese yam has finally made three shoots.

Finally, seed starting has moved into stage three, called “hardening off.” The little plants are on the deck, exposed to sunlight and breezes. The tomatoes, which were the first to germinate, have been outside for nearly a week and are ready to move into their permanent homes in the garden. Peppers, parsley and basil are slower and will need several more days of babying before they are sturdy enough to plant outside.

My banged up body doesn’t allow me to do much of the big garden work, but thank goodness I can still run a little nursery. It’s a joy to play in the dirt and watch the miracle of reproduction in the plant world.

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer