N: N

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N is for … N.
I’ve been collecting vintage sign salvaged Ns for some years. My husband is especially accomplished at finding and gifting really good ones.

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Some I admire for their intricately weathered surfaces.

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Some I love for their over-the-top appearance. This one is three feet tall, of heavy wood painted red, and oversees a stairwell.

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Much of the typography is beautiful, like this well-balanced classic uppercase N, of green metal.

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This is the newest one, a hollow aluminum lowercase n, about 12 tall by 3 inches deep, an early Christmas present (of course) from my delightful husband.

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N is also for Napoleon, my stoic and dingy old man cat, who is growing very boney. It makes me so happy to see him comfortably napping in the early morning sun.

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This was the remarkably pastel dawn over the ocean that morning. There’s the horizon obscured with a far-off fog wall, as often happens, but the colors — especially the lilac and rose — were extraordinary.

 

M: Mandala, Map + Other Baskets, ShelleyB Weavings, Mystery

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M is for mandala.
I love this shade of green outlined in white tracery, punctuated with thorns. And that a blue jay tucked an acorn inside. Good cache, jay!

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M could be for maps woven into baskets.
I’ve been fooling around with taller/wider looms. This one is woven from a vintage map print of Berlin. Really liking the subtle colors and patterns.

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Another view straight on, where the cream colored paper core catches the light less.

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M is for mind-boggling.
ShelleyB has continued to experiment with her fantastical weaving patterns as well.

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More of her madness carefully plotted charts. Love the houndstooth!

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(I’m also working on a set of black and white storage baskets for the pavilion remodel, using black looms and plain old white weavers. And a jaunty circle-dot lining :)

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M is always for mystery.
Another of the Rockaway Beach abandoned dollhouses. Who or what is behind that open door?

 

 

L: Left Behind

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L is for left behind.
I felt a brief, but distinct, sensation of being left behind, as my newly-mobile seven-month-old granddaughter paused to look back at me as she crawled off into another room.

H: Horizon

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H is for the horizon.
Seen from Manor Bluff, late afternoon, very low tide. The jumble of dark in the lower left is riprap (huge granite boulders) the City has been placing in an attempt to protect the sandstone cliffs from inevitable (and natural) erosion. Two humans for scale. This view is directly across the street from the post office, which I visit most every day.

D: Dollhouse, Wheelie

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Alongside a small apartment building in Rockaway Beach is an odd assortment of broken Talavera pottery, derelict lawn ornaments and abandoned dollhouses. It is thought-provoking, but not at all sad.

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In an effort to get out more, I’ve been auditioning various coffee shops around town. Current fav is Perfect Pour on Clarendon. Small, friendly, excellent coffee (they do their own roasts). Wheelie enjoyed making my cappuccino appear mustachioed. Little hipster.