A journal of everyday adventures in quilting, writing, cooking, and living.

The dirt piles keep building…

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First pile of the season

I looked out the kitchen window as I was making dinner this afternoon and saw a big black dump truck rumble into the yard, just like a swallow returing to Capistrano or a Monarch butterfly flitting back to its ancestral tree in Mexico. When I saw my husband’s henchman Claudio jump out of the cab, I knew Opening Day had arrived. Yes, it’s dirt season again in our little corner of Northern California. According to my husband, we need a lot more dirt this year so he can finish the road he started building last year and flatten out some spots down the hill that aren’t nearly flat enough. All it will take is a few dozen dumptruck loads of clean fill.

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Here’s Basketball Girl with Wilbur, our cutest and most elusive pet:

He is actually begging for treats.

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Here’s a hint:

And another hint:

I’ll spare you my rendition of “It’s a Small World After All,” which is still running relentlessly through my head days later.

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And for reasons unknown, only fifteen candles on her cake:

And if you’re wondering why the cake is slightly lopsided, it’s because her SISTER sneaked into the kitchen and ate a large piece off the bottom while it was cooling.

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Marcus celebrating the warm weather (finally arrived!) with a daisy in his hair:

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Here’s a piece of needlepoint that would make an unforgettable Father’s Day present:

I had to puzzle over this one for a while before I figured out what it is. A largish luggage tag? A book mark? All at once the answer hit me: it’s the business end of a fly swatter. What a touching gift!

Here’s a painting that has been at the thrift store the last several times I’ve been there. I’m guessing that other patrons, like me, are puzzled by what the subject could be. Eggplants on fire? Dancing space aliens?

And in other news, here’s a scene from the chicken lecture I attended last Saturday. The speaker brought several adorable live bantam hens and this stuffed one she found (where else?) at a thrift store. I have to wonder if these are the earthly remains of someone’s beloved pet.

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Here’s another thrift shop treasure I just couldn’t resist sharing with my fellow art lovers:

I’ve always thought my bathroom would look a lot better with a portrait of ugly naked people made out of used pantyhose and leftover fabric from the grade school Colonial history pageant.

Unfortunately for those of you who wanted to own some of my previous thrift shop finds, they have already been snapped up by other frugal treasure hunters. “Take only pictures, leave only footprints” — that’s my thrift store art-buying philosophy.

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They’re everywhere in Northern California, from the last drops of rain on the nasturtiums:

To the children dancing around the May pole at the May Faire…

To this poppy that planted itself next to our big rock in front of the house…

And of course, the irresistible urge to dye one’s hair orange. The photo doesn’t really do justice to the acid Kool-aid quality of Sunny’s dye job. Somehow she managed to persuade the Dean of Students at her school that this is “a hair color found in nature,” as required by the school appearance code.

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