Ordinary Days . . . Extraordinary Moments

Caro-Mi

   It's nice in life to have rituals or places that are dependably familiar.  Caro Mi Restaurant where we went for dinner (and go fairly regularly) is such a place.

    Caro  Mi stands for Carolina-Miami.
    The original owners were from Miami. The menu (the same  as long as we've been going for the past decade) definitely has a Carolina flavor. 

    The 1957 building sits back from the Pacolet River.  There is a parking lot between Highway 176 and the river.  There is another parking lot behind the restaurant. 
There is a covered bridge over the river.    If you park in the front lot, you walk over the separate covered footpath. If you park in back you drive over over the wooden bridge.  There is a feeling of nostalgia either way.

    The front porch of the restaurant is lined with rockers which from early Summer through late Fall  are usually occupied by guests waiting to be seated or relaxing to enjoy the view and the sound of the river after their meal.                                          
    Caro-Mi is only open Wednesday through Saturday. It  does a steady business all year, but stays very crowded from early Spring through late Fall when tourists are visiting the mountains. 

    There are four rooms for dining in the restaurant.  The menu is uncomplicated.  There are six entries:  fresh mountain trout (served with or without almond butter), country ham and grits, fried chicken, a porterhouse steak, fried shrimp and fried chicken livers.

    Other than the grits that come with the ham and a baked potato with the steak, all the side dishes are the same and are served family style. 

    You definitely might have to wait to be seated if you don't have a reservation, but once you are seated, as soon as your beverage orders are taken, bowls of marinated slaw and macaroni salad and a basket of Southern biscuits are quickly brought to your table.  Homemade apple butter is available if requested.  Caro-Mi does not serve alcohol, but you can brown-bag your own wine for a reasonable corking fee.

    My husband and I almost never vary in what we order.  He usually orders the trout and I always order the chicken.  I don't eat the skin of fried chicken any longer, but I enjoy the flavor and I can never eat all of the half chicken that is served.

    When the entrees are delivered, they are accompanied by bowls of green beans and stewed apples.  Like the salads, they are served family style and the bowls are filled repeatedly until you decline any more.

    Caro-Mi has good desserts, including a homemade key lime pie; but, we are usually much too full to even think about ordering dessert.

    The food at Caro-Mi is dependably good, but, it is always enhanced by the sights and sounds of nature that surround it.

   We do not eat out a lot; but, living a good distance from any major city, we are very fortunate that we have a number of excellent restaurants near to us. 

    Going to eat at Caro Mi is something like going to eat at Grandmother's when you know that she is going to serve your favorites and that it will be good.

    Another "ordinary day," . . . an ordinary dinner out, but made special by the grace of its familiarity and dependability.

 

   

Kathleen & Fred

    Kathleen and Fred have been married for over 60 years.   I’ve known Kathleen the last couple of years through the bridge community.  I met Fred a couple of months ago at a small celebration of their 60th wedding anniversary.  He has Parkinson’s Disease and dementia.  When I met him, he said: “It was better ten years ago.” . . . a sad truth spoken out loud to a stranger.

    Kathleen is an elegant and very feminine lady.  Most of us dress quite casually for the weekly ACBL Thursday and Friday bridge games at the Tryon Youth Center.  Not so for Kathleen.  Her outfits are always carefully put together with matching jewelry, heels, purse.  I’d love to have her hand-me-downs any day.  She used to say that she had to dress up for bridge because one never knew what day Omar Shariff might show up.

    I  admired a cashmere sweater she had on not long after Christmas.  When I complimented her, she said:  “My husband gave me something he made himself for Christmas!”  I said:  “He did?  What?”  She said:  “Money!”  And, she laughed.  She has this great twinkle in her eyes when she smiles and laughs.   It is contagious and delightful  She went on smiling to say that she bought the sweater, the jewelry she had on and still had some money left.

    On Valentine’s Day, Kathleen brought me a fancy chocolate bar.  She gave it to me and said:  “This is a little treat because you always make me feel so special.”  It was a total surprise; but, It made my day.

    Kathleen’s age only shows when she walks.  Otherwise, she is bright and energetic.  But, Fred  has been going down hill for sometime.   As long as I’ve known her she has had to have a caregiver with him when she plays bridge or goes anywhere. 

    About a month ago, the room of ten tables of bridge got very quiet when we all of a sudden realized that Kathleen was on the floor.  She didn’t fall, but had been put on the floor by an alert person at her table who realized she was in distress.  A retired doctor went to her side. She was in a sweat and having trouble breathing.  911 was called. A "first responder" showed up quickly, followed by the ambulance. They worked with her on the floor for a while and then took her to the hospital.  We were all concerned.

    The next week she was back at bridge and said that her heart was OK, but they had discovered she had a sinus infection and a bladder infection.  We were all relieved,

    Two weeks ago, the room again got quiet all of a sudden and although she was still in her chair, you could see Kathleen was in distress again.  Another retired doctor went to her side.  When she refused to let 911 be called again, he drove her to the hospital.  There was much concern and many comments about what would happen with Fred if Kathleen was sick.

    When I saw her yesterday, I asked how she was and she told me she was fine . . . but, that at the encouragement of her doctor, she had to make the decision to put Fred in Ridgecrest, a small private local nursing home facility.  It is near her home and she will see him daily.  She said he was taking it pretty well.  I could feel the mixture of the grief she feels and the relief from accepting a decision that had to be made.  She is simply unable to take care of Fred at home at this point. 

    I’ve only recently begun to play bridge with partners other than my husband.  Kathleen asked me for a bridge date over a month ago and today was our first time to play together.  She was dressed in a suit with a lovely pale silk blouse.  She had a fancy pin of large  pink crystal beads of different shapes and sizes at the neck of her blouse with matching earrings.

    We were sitting North/South and she told everyone who came to play at our table about the decision she had to make about Fred.  Everyone loves Kathleen and was very encouraging that she had done the right thing.  They have never been apart in over 60 years . . . an incredibly difficult decision even if one knows it has to be made.

    I’m sure that the stress of needing to face this most difficult decision of her life so far contributed to the two 911 episodes.   

    I‘ve worked hard to learn many fancy bridge conventions.  Kathleen plays a much simpler game, but she doesn’t miss a beat.  She put me in one difficult contract that I struggled to figure out how to make and did.  She said she could see the wheels turning in my brain and loved seeing me play the hand.   I was the only one who made the contract. 

    She made one bad bid, but did not beat herself up about it afterwards like I tend to do.  I made a mistake on one hand and her attitude was:  “so what!”  On to the next one.

    We finished the day in third place behind two much “bigger” teams.  But, spending the time playing with Kathleen meant far more to me than the points we got for the win.  She was already booking her bridge dates for June today and I enthusiastically accepted when asked if I would like to play with her again.

    I can only hope I might play as well when I’m her age.  Even more I hope that I might become more like Kathleen and develop even a small portion of the courage and grace with which she lives her daily life.

A funny thing happened . . .

    A funny thing happened on our way home from Gatlinburg, TN, where we spent last week at the annual Mid-Atlantic Bridge Conference Regional tournament.

   Funny and a little humbling  . . . more like, if I hadn’t laughed, I might have cried.

     We had originally planned to stay in Gatlinburg through Sunday afternoon, but decided after the Saturday afternoon session of bridge to come back a day early.  On our way home, we stopped for a late dinner in Asheville.

    We have a favorite Italian restaurant in the Biltmore Village area, Trevi’s, that we had not been to for a long time, so we decided to eat there and celebrate the success of the week.

    Because it was around 8:30 p.m., we did not have to wait long for a table.  We were enjoying a glass of chianti with their “peasant bread” and dipping oil when an enthusiastic young woman came over to our table.  She said to me:  “Excuse me for interrupting your dinner, but you are just adorable!”  I smiled, but I was totally clueless about  what she meant. 

    At the time, I was sitting with my feet tucked under me.  I often sit like that or even in a cross-legged yoga position  because my feet,  more often than not, do not reach the floor from most chairs.   

    Then, the young woman explained.   She said that she was short, like I must be, and that she often sits on her feet.  She went on to say that she had worried what would happen when she got older, i.e., whether she would be flexible enough to still sit on her feet. And, then,  she saw me.

    That was why she thought I was adorable.  I was OLD and still flexible enough to sit on my feet!  I laughed and assured her that the practice of having to sit like that would keep her flexible.  She said she was 5 feet tall and asked about my height. I’m only 4’ 11”. 

    She thanked me and went away happy.  I looked at my husband and asked him how old he thought the young woman was  . . . our guess . . .mid to  late 20’s.   I’m 57.   I said:  “I guess she thinks I’m ancient!”  I went from the joy that someone thought I was adorable to the depressed feeling that I must look even older than I am or feel!

    Oh well, I’m glad I made the young woman feel good even if it reminded me that I don’t look as young as I think of myself. 

    Short stature is a real problem when it comes to keeping a healthy back.  When we play bridge, I’m disciplined about taking a small lightweight wicker/rattan stool with me. 

   I paid way too much for it at an antique store, but it is perfect  . . . lightweight enough to carry with me.
    
    It’s true that sitting on my feet has kept me flexible, but I have a severe  scoliosis curve that was never discovered until I was an adult and I’ve had several bouts with sciatica in adult years.  The older I get, the more I’ve had to be careful about my posture, especially when I’m sitting at a table for hours. 

    Tournament bridge is one our avocations in retirement.   We started playing social Bridge at a community center in Hendersonville in  2002.  That summer we took our first serious lessons and  we played  our first game of Duplicate Bridge in late November of that year.  We were hooked almost immediately.

    Medical studies have shown that playing bridge several times a week is one of several activities that ward off  dementia. 

    We played our first Regional tournament in September of 2003.  We went on to play at a number of tournaments last year and accomplished our goal of Life Master in October of last year . . .  It is  rare for people  to do that in under two years, but we had some good teachers and partners and worked hard at it.

    Last year we also finished sixth and seventh in the nation for our level in the overall points race, the Mini-McKenney.

    We had a really successful tournament this year in Gatlinburg,  bringing home about 24 points (explanation below).  We also helped our partners get 11 gold points.  One of our partners for the team-play for this tournament is 90 years old.  He really wants to get the gold points he needs to make Life Master before he dies. 

    Ironically, one or our partners at the last major Regional tournaments we played, is only  16 years old and is already a Life Master, a very rare accomplishment.   

    Under the category of MORE THAN YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW .  . .

    In Duplicate or Tournament bridge, you play for points which accumulate towards certain titles or levels of recognition.  Basically, you accumulate black points for wins (placing) at club level; silver points for Sectional area tournament wins and red and gold points for Regional and  National tournament wins.  It is the gold-colored points that are really hard to come by. To win gold points, you have to win two consecutive events. 

    At  Club level we play mostly pair events.  The main way Duplicate differs from  social bridge is that you play the same cards as other pairs for an entire session and get a percentage score based on how you do versus the people playing the same cards you played.

    Usually, you play 24-28 boards sitting either North-South or East-West for the entire time. All North-South pairs play the same cards in rotation and same for East-West.   At the end of the day, the N/S and E/W pair with the highest percentage win.   Anything over 50% is good and anything over 60% is really good and anything over 7O% is very rare.

     In  Duplicate bridge, all bids are made silently from a bidding box so that there are no voice inflections. There are  lots of strict rules.   Another difference between Duplicate and Social bridge is style of play and amount  of "conventions" played.   My husband and I have learned something like two dozen different "conventions," artificial legal ways of communicating through bidding.

    At Tournaments, we  mostly play team events called Knockouts.  When we play team events in tournaments, our East-West partners play the same cards as our East-West opponents. We play the same cards at their opponents.   

    We play 12 boards, compare combined scores, and, then  play a second round of 12 boards.  Winner takes all.  If you lose the first 24 you are out.   If you win, you play another team for 24 boards.   They usually  start with 16 teams in each bracket; half are knocked  out and the next round of 24 boards is played; half are knocked out again and  on it goes until there are two teams left.

     People work their way through levels which require different number of points, plus certain numbers of  colored point that can only be gained at sectional and Regional tournaments . . .  Junior Master (5 points),  Club Master (20 points), Sectional Master (50 points),  Regional Master (100  points), NABC Master (200 points), LIFE MASTER (300 points), Bronze Life Master (500 points),  Silver Life Master  (1000 points), Gold  Life Master (2500 points),  Diamond Life Master (5,000 points). and Grand Life Master (10,000 points,  plus certain tournament title requirements. The level that most people are working towards is Life Master. 

    Even when people work on it diligently, it can take a long time.  We know one woman who just achieved it after  40 years.    

    Duplicate bridge through the ACBL is a major retirement activity.  We meet people from all over the USA and from other countries at the Regional and National tournaments.  I  don’t know the total table count for this year, but at last year’s Gatlinburg Regional, there were 8400+ tables of bridge (1 table = 3 hours of play) played during that one week (at $40 at table).   

    There are professional directors, like referees for physical sports, who make pretty good  money once they qualify for Regional tournaments.

    If you like a mental challenge, try duplicate bridge.  For more information, visit:  ACBL

Four Weddings/no funeral

    We have four weddings we are celebrating this Spring.  I hope there will be no funerals.  It is a priviledge in retirement that past congregational members and their sons and daughters want you to be the Celebrant for such a special occassion in a young person's life.

    The first wedding is this weekend.  The bride is 27.  She was seven years old when I became  Rector of St. Francis where her family was active. I was the celebrant at her older sister's wedding and now will be at hers.  This is the second time Allison has made me feel old. The first time was  when she got big enough that she decided she was "too big" to come forward for the children's homily.

    It was one of my joys each week to sit on the Altar steps with the children gathered around me.  When I came to St. Francis as Rector in 1986, it was a congregation mostly made up of families with teenagers and retired persons.  So, there  were only a few children under 12 to come forward regularly for the children's Homily.  The population of young children increased rapidly in the last decade I was Rector,  But, whenever Allison or any child considered herself or  himself too old to come forward, it made me feel older. 

    Even though she is certainly old enough to make this major commitment,  I still remember her as a little girl; and, it makes me feel my age that she is taking this step.  But, I'm happy for you and pleased that she wanted me to be involved in this important step in her life.

    There are three more weddings to come ... two more with young persons grew up in my parish  when I was Rector and a fourth for a young man who grew up in my husband's congregation when he was Rector.

    It will be nostalgic and emotional for me to return to my former parish.  I spent 14 years as Rector before I had to resign for medical reasons.  I still grieve.  But, it will also be a joy to go back to what was my spiritual home for 14 years and to see people I love.

   

Daylight Savings Time

    I read a  friend’s blog last night and found out she thought she might be the only person who dislikes daylight savings time.   She is definitely not the only one because I sincerely dread the time changes in both Spring and Fall each year.  It is the Spring change that I dislike the most.

    I’ve been “out of sorts” ever since the time changed 2 a.m. Sunday.  I have sleep problems related to my illness, but the bottom line is that mornings are the hardest time of my life.  The Spring change in time escalates the morning issues.   I also do not get why we need it to stay light later when the days are already lengthening.      

    I do like light and, therefore, always feel shortcut by the fact that when the days are already getting shorter in the Fall, we, overnight, lose an hour of daylight. 

    I do know there are reasons that have to do with things like agriculture in Spring and Summer and school buses in the fall; but, for me, they don’t justify the change back and forth.

    In addition to my feelings expressed above, over three decades ago I had a very traumatic event on the Monday after the Spring Daylight Savings Time change.

    It’s a long and more complicated story than I want to share here, so I'll attempt a briefer version.  The traumatic event was a fire.  My daughter and I had an unexpected guest and were visiting at the pool of the apartment complex where my daughter and I had lived since my recent divorce.             

    When we came back in from the pool, I realized it was almost 8 o’clock.  I had not realized the time because the light still looked like afternoon.  I forgot about the time change over the weekend.  When I realized how late it was, I was frazzled about needing to get supper fixed so my daughter could get in bed on time with school the next day. 

    I had planned to have baked potatoes and steak.  This was the days before everyone had microwaves.  I knew there was no longer time for baking the potatoes.  So, I put oil in a pot and started cutting the potatoes for fries.  I turned the Jenn-Air grill on.   

    All of a sudden, I thought it would just be easier if I went out and got fast food considering the late hour.  I went to check to see whether I had enough cash to cover dinner  . . . just a few steps down the hall to my bedroom to check my wallet . . .  just a moment or two  . . . 

    Then, I heard it . . . an explosion in the kitchen.  You always talk about what you might take with you if you have to leave the house in an emergency.  Well, in a real emergency, what I thought to  take was NOTHING except to get my daughter and our cats out safely.  I got them out of the house and had my neighbor call the fire department.

   Even  today whenever I hear the sound of fire sirens, I get an uneasy feeling in my gut.  The evening of  the fire, I remember hearing the fire engine sirens and not understanding why I could hear them and yet they seemed like forever getting there.  In reality, they arrived as quick as possible; it just seemed like an eternity not knowing how far the fire  might be spreading.

    The firemen actually got there in time to save most everything but the kitchen.  They said that in five more minutes the fire would have jumped the firewall to four other apartments.  No other rooms besides the kitchen had burn damage, but there was smoke damage in every room because they had to put  fans all windows to pull the smoke out to reduce the heat and chance of more fire.

    The shorter version of the story was that my daughter and I and ourthree cats ended up living in a motel room for three months while the apartment was being cleaned and the kitchen redone.  I’m still not sure why the insurance company didn’t insist on the apartment complex just moving us to another unit, but they didn’t.

   I'll never forget my young daughter saying to me:  "First we had a step-home (the apartment) and now we have a step-step home (the motel room)."

    As tragedies go, the fire was a minor one.  No life was lost or even injured. Insurance covered the losses although they could not replace my cookbook collection because some of those books were out of print.  Theoretically, I know (and knew even then) that we were lucky, very lucky.

    It is hard  to explain how traumatic it is when something like a fire, somthing out of your control, something out of the blue, can so quickly threaten life and belongings.  And, there is no explaining the stress of fighting for what was fair with the insurance company while living in a motel, working full-time and single-parenting.

    Although it has been over three decades, this long-ago event not only comes to mind, but affects me  emotionally and physically every Spring when the time for the  Daylight Savings Time change arrives.

    Well, I may be in the minority, but I’m glad I read my friend, Corrina’s  blog:  SeaShe
At least, I know I’m not alone in not liking (to put it mildly) Daylight Savings Time.

Fiddlesticks Antique Shop

    My husband and I used to go “antiquing” regularly.  It is one of the few kinds of shopping that he doesn’t mind.  We both enjoy looking at old things.  We don’t do it often anymore, partly because we have less discretionary income, and partly because at this stage, we really don’t need anything. 

    But, it is still something we enjoy doing occasionally.  Saturday afternoon, on the way home from visiting my mother-in-law about an hour away from where we live,  I suggested stopping at Fiddlesticks Antiques Shop, an old building “out in the middle of nowhere” kind of place.  We had passed it coming and going many times, but never stopped before.

    It was my favorite  kind of antique place . . .   the kind where numerous individuals have areas where they display their antiques and collectibles. 

    When I walked in, I immediately noticed the display of vintage hats on hatstands on a large display counter at the front of the store.  I have a collection of antique hats  hung in my guest bedroom, some belonged to my grandmother.  I was pleasingly surprised at the prices, much lower than ones I’ve seen anywhere else in  the past year.  I tried on several.   Even if they are going to hang on my wall as decoration, I like to know I could wear them if I wanted.

 

    I decided to decide on my way out about the hats and went looking through the nooks and crannies of the rest of the store.  Several “booths” had a good number of blue cobalt glass bottles which I collect, also priced at about half of what I would expect.   At the good  prices, I was tempted to buy it all, but I picked out several pieces which I knew were a different size or shape from any I  already have.

    As I wandered through the store, I was amazed at how reasonably lots of things were priced.  Towards  the back of the store I found a large enamel tub that I decided to get and will use as a planter.  In my laundry/pantry room, I have a number of white enamelware pieces on top of the cabinets.  I didn’t need another one, but the price was right.

    Although he enjoys looking, my husband rarely makes any purchases.  But when I got back to the front to look at the hats again, he was admiring an antique snuff sign. He isn’t remotely interested in snuff, but the sign was primarily yellow with a large bee hive and bees.  It was originally used to advertise Honey Bee Snuff, sweet as honey.  He didn’t want to pay the price, but when the owner told him she could knock off  20%, I told her we’d take it and I bought it for him.  It will go on the wall in Bee Pond cottage where he does his honey work.

    I did decide to get one hat, and then another.  The first was was a summer baby blue with brim.  The straw was in layers that looked crocheted.  The second was a black winter material, but had  an opening at the crown.  it was very unique, and it FIT.  Without being asked, the owner knocked about 25% off the hats that were already a good deal. 

    As I was putting up my change from paying for my new found treasures, I noticed an antique cobalt eye wash cup under the glass at the counter.  Couldn’t resist that either.

    When we got home, the two new hats prompted me to totally rearrange my  hat collection.   My sweet husband got ladder, hammer and nails and did the hard work while I supervised.  He only commented once or twice about more holes in the wall. 

I  moved all the summer hats to the outside wall and a small section of wall near the front of the room.  Then, I rearranged all the black  and navy hats on the inside wall.

      Antiquing . . .  my favorite form of recycling.   

Annual Orchid Show

We became members of the North Carolina Arboretum not long after moving to Western North Carolina. “The North Carolina Arboretum is a 426-acre public garden located within the Bent Creek Experimental Forest of the Pisgah National Forest. Surrounded by the dense folds of the botanically diverse Southern Appalachian Mountains, the Arboretum is nestled in one of the most beautiful natural garden settings in America.“ The grounds are beautiful and provide for wonderful meditative walking or hiking. During the past five+ years, we have enjoyed various programs and courses offered. We often take visiting guests there.

One of our favorite annual events is the Arboretum Orchid Show. This year was the 8th annual show. and it was as impressive as always. The orchid show is a feast for the eyes. I kept snapping pictures trying to capture something of the beauty. The variety of unique colors, shapes and sizes are such a delight to see. The entry displays are put together with amazing artistry.

I’m the indoor gardener in the family and orchids are one of my favorite plants. I always wanted to have orchids, but never did until we retired.

We added a small room off of the old dining room. We put in a picture window and side window that open up most of the back wall. There is another large window on one side wall and a door with window on the other side wall. This room works well for orchids. I have about a dozen gathered on an antique table under the picture window.

The antique table was left to me by my mother’s oldest sister who was my beloved Godmother as well my aunt. It was her dining room table given to her by my grandfather. My grandfather worked in law enforcement all his life and when I was a child, his work with the state of VA involved finding moonshine stills and putting them out of business. The table is drop-leaf Victorian and made of walnut with beautiful detail on the legs. The story that was passed down with the table is that it was found during a moonshine raid. It was on the front porch of a shack way back in the woods and covered with mud. My grandfather had it refinished and gave it to his oldest daughter who left it to me. It has several leaves that are not in use while it serves as the table for my orchids.

I still have a lot to learn about orchids. That is one of the joys of the Orchid show. In addition to the wonderful displays of plants entered for judging, in another room, there are a number of vendors that come from several states and they are more than willing to talk to you about orchids and caring for them.

I adore the beauty of orchids. I was tempted to buy more than a few at the orchid show. I restrained myself and only bought one. It is just beginning to bloom and has two stalks of buds that will bloom with petals with mixed hues of red and faint yellow. One of the things I appreciate the most about orchids is that when they are blooming, their blooms last for months. When my new orchid is in full bloom, I’ll post a picture of it on my treasured antique table.

For more information on the North Carolina Arboretum go to: http://www.ncarboretum.org/default.htm

Easter Respite at Kanuga

We were at Kanuga for most of this week.

Kanuga is a national Episcopal conference center located about 30 minutes from where we live. It was partly from our many trips to Kanuga for clergy conferences, summer conferences and retreats that we came to love Western North Carolina.

Kanuga welcomes more than 35,000 guests annually. It is situated on 1,400 mountain acres near Hendersonville, North Carolina, with beautiful Kanuga Lake at its center.

Each year after Easter, Kanuga hosts an annual Easter Respite for clergy and their families, a time for rest and relaxation after the busyness of Holy Week and Easter. The Respite is endowed by the generosity of the Avent family in memory of their beloved mother which means that the time in the beautiful setting of the 118 acres of Kanuga is offered at no cost to the clergy who are invited.

Each year in rotation clergy from two of the owning dioceses are invited plus additional clergy who have past connections with Kanuga.

We have attended Easter Respite several times. Even though we live nearby, we look forward to spending days on the beauty of the Kanuga grounds. There is no agenda or program other than rest and recreation and fellowship. It is always a joy to reconnect with people we have not seen in a while.

Kanuga has a beautiful rustic chapel, several additional outdoor chapels, and an outdoor labyrinth. My favorite is the St. Francis Chapel, hidden not far from the roadside in a small sheltered cove with wooden benches for pews. A small creek runs between the “pews” and the large stone altar with the prayer of St. Francis inscribed on the front. I have fond memories of celebrating Eucharist in that chapel and I love to go there alone to meditate.

Even in retirement, getting way (even if not far away) for rest and relaxation is important. We were grateful for several beautiful days at Kanuga watching spring unfold.

To learn more about Kanuga, check out: http://www.kanuga.org/

To see pictures of Kanuga’s beautiful acreage and facilities, go to:
http://www.kanuga.org/aboutus/photos/index.asp

Wine Cork Wreath

The subject of a kitchen wreath I made from wine corks came up in one of my online groups. Since some people were interested in “how” to do this project, I decided to post the directions with a picture here.

Before midlife, I did some needle arts: crocheting , crewel and cross stitch. My paternal grandmother was always artistic musically. She played the organ at church, but also who studied piano with master teachers into her late 70’s. Sometime in midlife, she also took up painting.

I do not have any musical talent, but I guess I kept hoping that I might find my own “artistic” medium as I entered midlife even though I never considered myself artistic. I don’t think I’ll ever resemble anything close to a “real” artist, but I enjoy crafting. And, my forte seems to be yard art with found objects. One of the hindrances to my art making is my perfectionistic tendencies which, thank goodness, don’t so much come into play with yard art for which there are no rules or expectations.

Theoretically, I believe everyone can and should be an artist of some kind . . . . there is a joy in creating beauty in whatever medium.

I love the idea of recycling things into art. Cork is an endangered plant and many wine bottlers are going to plastic corks because of the shortage. I’ve forgotten the exact statistics, but it takes a long time for cork plants to grow. So, I understand the move to plastic corks, BUT, I don’t like it.

So, after saving corks for many years and seeing several cork wreaths, I decided to make one for my kitchen. I didn’t like the ones I had seen. They seemed to be too bare in places. After starting on it and finding out it took several hundred corks to make the wreath for my kitchen, I understood why the ones I had seen were not done with as much detail.

The discussion of my kitchen cork wreath brings up the issue for me of why I do not spend more time in creative activities since I find it so rewarding. And, it’s a shame since I have almost enough supplies to open a small craft store. Like everything else, it is a matter of time and priorities. Perhaps, I just need a new project on which to focus my energies,

I’d love to hear about your art or craft projects. Maybe they will inspire me.

Below are the directions for the way I made my kitchen wine cork wreath.

Supplies needed:
* straw wreath (leave the plastic on)
*wine corks,
*2 1/2 inch finishing nails
*artificial grapevine with leaves and grapes (I had to look and look to find a
grapevine that I thought looked realistic enough)
*pliers for inserting nails into corks.

Instructions:

Use pliers to insert nails into the same end of all works . . . insert about 1/2 inch of nail, leaving nail head sticking out.

Weave the grapevine around the straw base. with plastic still on

Stick the heads of the nails through the plastic, firmly into the wreath base so that the cork is tight up against the wreath and layering them so that all space on the wreath is covered.

I did not cover the back side, but I fully covered the front and the sides so that hanging on the wall, none of the straw wreath base showed.

Wire can be woven around the top of the base under the corks with a loop for hanging on the back.

Note: It takes a good bit of strength to push the nails into the corks. I was lucky to have the help of my dear husband who is much stronger than I am who did most of the work of inserting the nails into the corks for me.