If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

“Artist” can mean someone who makes stuff for fun and it can mean someone who makes stuff for a living. I’ve been the Stuff For Fun type of artist as long as I have been a functional human. The business end of things came later in life.

Look at this list of phases I have gone through: paint-by-number, woven potholders, lanyards, notecards with pressed flowers with wax paper and glitter, decoupage posters on grape trays, sewing, macrame, crocheting, tatting, quilts, grapevine wreaths, willow furniture, mosaic stepping stones, knitting, bread, yogurt, hummus.

It is deeply satisfying to be able to make useful and functional items, even if one quits the craft before achieving any great level of success. (Let’s not talk about those paint-by-number or potholder kits).

Nothing has changed. A week or two ago, on a day that was meant for oil painting, I had projects galore that were calling out for attention. None of my paintings have imminent deadlines, so I took advantage of a loose schedule.

Current Projects

Project #1 is to turn a discarded road sign into something attractive that reminds people to not race through our neighborhood.

Project #2 is turning a book into a hiding place. (Just a Reader’s Digest Condensed book—don’t get your knickers in a knot.)

Project #3 is PROTECTING SOME FLOWERS FROM THOSE BLASTED DEER IN THE YARD!  The shrub in the middle is a butterfly bush, chosen because the deer have ignored another one in the yard for several years. But here in the fake wishing well, one of those miserable creatures has been pruning this shrub with its teeth, and ignoring the petunias for some unknown reason. I planted more petunias, some statice, columbine, and something called “tickweed”. Then I pounded in these bamboo stakes, and later wrapped them with twine in a random, schlocky manner that I hope is very annoying to the deer. (I noticed that one of the tickweed plants had been unplanted and dropped on the ground. Those sneaky so-and-sos were sabotaging the new plantings while I was gathering supplies.)

A few days prior to these projects, Trail Guy moved a chair that was part of the herb garden fencing. It was gone for a short time before he put it back. Meanwhile, this is what happened:

We think Bambi was there all day before we noticed, so I hope he was traumatized enough to NEVER want to return.

My gardening efforts are a continual triumph of hope over experience.