My house needs some editing. Well, I guess it could use a whole lot of
editing. Until recently, I sold from my house and barns to antique dealers
and designers but time doesn’t allow for that any more. What seemed like
an abundance of cool stuff then, now feels like a crowd. As I was walking
through my rooms, I noticed, not for the first time, that there are an
awful lot of people living here with us. Here are some of their faces….
So many of them are religious. While I cannot be counted among the orgainzed
faithful, something deep in me responds to the music, accoutrements and
ceremony of places of worship whether meeting-house simple or over the top.
My parents believed that children should grow up knowing about God and
have some experience of church in order to have something to believe in.
They were pretty lackadaisical, though, and I either attended Sunday School
at our own Dutch Reformed Church or went with a friend to their Sunday
School or Synagogue. I was fortunate to live in a town that had dozens of different
choices and I visited almost all of them.
Except for the Catholic Church. Things were different back then, the Catholic
Church was more closed and I was never invited to a service there as a kid.
For a long time, I thought I didn’t know anyone who was Catholic.
Of course, I eventually got in and, once I have my foot in the door, I’m hard
to get rid of ! The pomp and cirmcumstance, the glory of it all has kept me
enthralled with Catholic services and it is always my first choice when in a
foreign country. I have found that I am perfectly capable of lifting my voice in
song in any language. The Tallis Scholars performing Thomas Tallis’ sacred music
is my favorite to listen to, with Krishna Das’ “All One” a close second. But, when it
comes to my people, I don’t confine myself to the pious….
My taste is catholic, not just Catholic.
Anybody want to join me in the church of maple syrup? Aunt Jemima is a saint
in my book!
My big garden girls are all inside the house where they belong.
Big Mouth, from the carnival, and Bedroom Eyes, a mannequin. These guys
don’t go outside, either.
A santa, hand-made by Terry John Woods. And a mask which has holes in the
eye area allowing the wearer to see. Terry used to have a sale at his Vermont
family farm one day a year, the day after Thanksgiving. People came from far
away places, like California, and slept in cars overnight on his country road in
order to be first through the door. The handmade items and antiques were pretty
wonderful but I don’t think I would give up Thanksgiving for them. It only took
me 2 hours to drive to his hamlet. And another hour to find the place, tucked
away on a dirt road, a mile down from a five corners. I could never quite remember
which of those roads to take.
Old papier mache angels. Too nice to keep in a closet till Christmas. And,
Patina and her other sister, Patina. Patina is technically the green that shows
up on metal when it oxidizes. However, most of us call the signs of age on any old
surface “patina” and get away with it every time.
There are dozens more people in my house, but enough is enough. Above,
though, is a preview of what’s coming…the faces of my animals! I have a very
strong feeling that, during the editing process, none of my people are going to
get the boot.