It's probably a predictable activity of the practitioners, but calligraphers are continually making art from the alphabet. No actual words, just the letters. We might use anywhere from one to all twenty-six (and our favorite, the ampersand--so lovely, those ampersands!) to make a composition. I've seen hundreds of these pieces and many are truly beautiful/interesting/inspiring and worthy of very expensive framing!
I am a calligrapher. However, to date, my alphabet-play has never made it past the practice paper. A few weeks ago, I figured that it was high time to organize some letters into various formations on good paper as a self-imposed exercise. I decided to work small (about 8"x 8" image area) and to make several pieces of various styles, colors and media to be displayed as one arrangement. Nine pieces seemed a good number.
There really is no limit to the choices to be made and I am just the worst decision-maker. I could have been paralyzed for months! But, somehow, here they are. It was fun, and I'm sure that this isn't the end of it. Of the numerous blank walls on which to display this little business, I decided to put them in the entryway near the front door.
So, here's the overview shot, then there's a closer shot of each piece, to be continued in the next post. See what you think. What I think is that, in this case, $6.99 (the cheapest I could find) was plenty to spend on each frame.
The first enlargement is freestyle, asian-sort-of look.
The second is a treatment of the blackletter (sometimes called "old english" or "gothic"). I used gold paint behind the capital letter, which is technically in a "versal" style typically used with blackletter in medieval manuscripts. By the by, though I didn't use real gold in this case, the use of real gold and it's reflective qualities is the reason those old manuscripts are called "illuminated".
The next one is an informal italic with white ink on black paper written with a "folded" nib--a shaped piece of metal folded to hold ink. Love this nib!
The last on this page is a square arrangement of freestyle italic lower case surrounding freestyle Roman caps on a background of color made with pastels.
Continued...
...for fungus!! I can't help it. I'm fascinated by mushrooms! And, really, who isn't?! Eating them is beside the point. It's about the sizes, shapes and colors. So many kinds! The fact that they are performing a necessary decomposition function is just frosting on the cake for me. I don't actually know too much about them, so to me they are among the great Mysteries of the Nature! Wild and unpredictable! They pop up randomly and no one can tell exactly which ones will be where. No one. I have a few mushroom guides, but they're nearly useless for identification because there are too many and and too variable within type.
Every year at this time, I wander about with my head down looking for them in the yard and in the neighborhood, especially on my morning walks. They gradually emerge from under the layers and layers of leaves and pine needles about now. It's rained a few times, recently, and the ground is still warm enough, so last week, I began to see them.
This year, there's a particularly nice display on the side of an black oak near the house called Sulphur Shelf mushrooms. I haven't yet found a name to put on the tall cup-shaped brown ones in the redbud pot--or the rest of them on this page, for that matter. I think the yellowish half-dollar-sized ones on the side of the road, right now, are called "Velvet Foot" (no photo--love the name), but I can't identify the teensy white I ones I found near them. Each cap is no bigger around than a pencil eraser, the stems like thread.
Who are those folks who, for whatever reason, are charged with giving mushrooms their common names (as opposed to the botanical ones)? They must be fun at a party. Here are some of the good ones: Bleeding Milk Cup, Poor Man's Slipper Jack (is there one for rich men?), and Burgundy Bruising Coral Fungus. There's also Deceptive Blistered Skin Mushroom (a little sneaky?) and Questionable Stropharia (someone needs to make a decision there--is it or isn't it?). My favorite might be Dog Vomit Slime Mold.
In other outdoor news, I planted a couple more trees today (California natives, buckeye and madrone) and a native shrub called matillija poppy. I also got some wildflower seeds in the ground. Tomorrow, the tomatoes come out (having frozen many times, now) and I'll stake the peas...all the while, keeping an eye on the dead leaves to see if there's a fancy 'shroom lurking beneath...
Next...the ABCs.
Far be it from me to judge. I mean, I've only seen a little bit of the town and only one time. Still. If I never get back to Oroville again, I don't think I'll stew much about it. Backing up a little, I believe, theoretically, that every place on earth is interesting in some way. Sometimes it's just not apparent to the casual observer. Oroville might challenge that assumption, however.
Tom and I had decided to take a drive last Sunday. We didn't really leave the house until after 11, so we didn't want to drive too far. Tahoe? At only and hour and a half, it's beautiful and accessible. Downieville/Sierraville? Gorgeous mountain driving and cute little towns. Placerville? Foothill colors and quaint Gold-Rush ambiance. Nah. We'll go to Oroville. Why? Because we'd never been.
Oroville is about 1 1/4 hours away, north-ish, over territory we haven't traveled in 30 years--the north Sacramento Valley. I hadn't even been to Marysville/Yuba City, which is only 45 minutes away due west where they sit at Hwys 70/99 and 20, which goes to Grass Valley. So, it was time. We blew through Marysville (check it out later, maybe) and took 70 north. It's all about the rice fields, walnut groves and kiwi plantations. Kind of interesting, since we're always curious about farming and the folks that choose to live that life.
We knew that Oroville is the site of a large reservoir, popular with houseboaters, where the Feather River has been all dammed up since the 60s. Plus, on the the maps, I had also seen a "wildlife area" nearby. All cool stuff, right? And it wasn't hot.
I don't know. Maybe we just saw the junky part of town along the road to the reservoir. It has a strip mall ambiance, though we did find Papacito's for a nice Mexican lunch. Up at the reservoir, it was clear why the whole place just seemed a little sad. 
Aside from the rather impressive bridge, the lake, itself is pathetically, well, not so impressive. It sits at 30% of capacity or less, 125+ feet below the waterline. I saw a photo taken in '05 when the water was up to the trees. Oroville and Shasta (a little farther north) are the state's two largest reservoirs and both are far lower than the spillways (so they can't release water). That's a photo of Tom trying to find something interesting to read at the edge of the lake. No luck.
So, it was off to find the Oroville Wildlife Area. I guess I had never considered the difference between a "wildlife area" (admin. by Fish and Game) and a "wildlife refuge" (admin. by Fish and Wildlife). 
The Oroville Wildlife Area is dominated by two distinct sounds: traffic and gunfire. A "refuge" it most definitely is not. There are lots of trees. It looks to have at one time been a gravel quarry, or some such, along a river drainage (rendered obsolete by the dam) along Hwy 70. It's kinda pretty. But, upon taking a little walk through the woods to find some wildlife, it became clear that only deaf or profoundly stupid wildlife would spend even a few minutes in this area set aside for it. The gunfire never ceased (turned out to be a target range close by) and I began to wonder about my own safety. Turns out, it is hunting season there until Jan 31. OK. Moving on.
Tom had stayed in the car to do puzzles (he always comes prepared, especially if there's the slightest danger of a hike), so I just hopped back in the car and we headed back home, completely underwhelmed.
We were home before dark. I think we'll go east next time...
Yeah, I can't help it. It just makes me happy to drive around this time of year. The maples, birches, pistaches, sour and sweet gums, and on and on. Our own tulip tree, Prang yellow for awhile, is bare, now, and the sugar maple, japanese maples and liquidambar are still so little (someday!). But the area is still full of lovely colors. 
You'd think I'd never seen autumn trees before! I went to a nursery Saturday and could barely concentrate on anything but the two October Glory maples they had planted there. It bordered on the pathetic, though I tried to act casual, like it was no big thing. Today, I went back to snap a photo of them, waiting for the sun to peek out from behind the clouds (it's been rainy) so the reds would pop. I want to give them names. I took a picture of this native big-leaf maple (yellow) today on my way home. 
They're everywhere and look stunning against the pines and cedars. This orange tree is typical of those in the parking area by the Ben Franklin and Uptown Burrito. Almost too red are these burning bushes (that's what they're called). Yup. I won't plant one. Too much. Like someone spilled the paint. Hurts a little, like someone trying too hard. Still...
Our days are bursting with color! Everywhere we look, this time of year, there are trees, lovely enough when green, that become bright yellow, red and orange, flaming out against the evergreens before they become almost invisible for a few months. Though it's not New England, the beauty of colors in the pines is quite wonderful! It's tough to keep my eyes on the road, sometimes, I must tell you (though I don't mention it to Tom). I linger in the parking lot at the local Ben Franklin because the trees are so pretty.
Besides the black oaks on our property that become a soft bronzy gold, we have an American tulip tree in the front patio that turns crayon yellow. While I definitely lean toward a landscape of native plants, a few eastern trees here and there are so worth the technical violation.
Big-leaf maples and aspens are the native turners in the area--all yellow--and I will be planting some, but, well, I couldn't resist a few Japanese maples, a sugar maple and a liquidambar for the oranges and reds. They're tiny, now, but I love every leaf! Here's a picture of a couple. They just make me happy!
Meanwhile, in our garden, change has come. Our tomatoes did finally start to produce all kinds of interesting fruit--in September. Here's a little sample (taken a few weeks ago before the green ones were ripe). One tomato, a brandywine, weighed in at 1 1/2 pounds all by itself! The tastiest? The little cherry tomatoes, whose name I've forgotten. Intense! And the Costenutos (they look like tiny red pumpkins). The Porters were prolific, but the taste was rather ordinary. And the plants are still busy but I've pulled out the rest of the summer crop. We harvested a grand total of two peppers this year, but it wasn't the worst producer. Oh no. For all the corn stalks, we got not even one edible ear. The eggplant plants looked great for seedlings. The tallest was only three inches when I pulled it yesterday, the Peter Pan of eggplants. Sigh. A building year, as the coaches say. Newly planted are lettuce, peas, onions, leeks, garlic, and shallots. We're still getting some carrots and I left in the chard because it's so pretty and we might even eat some one of these days.
Earlier in the month, I spent a day at the Celtic festival at the fairgrounds. It's the sort of thing I love. I go every year (Tom is glad to let me have this one to myself). And though by the end of the day I might have been in the majority not having come in costume, in the morning I was definitely outnumbered by elaborately-dressed folk of all sorts. I love the music. I LOVE the music. 
The bands are wonderful! But the little villages they set up, the highland games, the dancers, the giant wolfhounds, the parades, and, yes, the costumes, are terrific fun. Favorite bands this year: Sligo Rags (pictured), Dervish and Enter the Haggis. Oh, and the amazing bagpipe corps! I can't get enough of them! They played two concerts during the day. It's a great event set in the beautiful pines and I just wallowed in it.
Today is November. I think we're pretty done with the flu, now. My Standard Time is finally back (at last!). And I will watch the trees like a hawk until the last bright leaf falls to the ground. Then comes the snow (yay!).
