Last night we attended a dinner/art opening at the Japanese Garden. I'd gotten tickets because the thought of a summer evening in that exquisite location sounded really appealing. It was a pleasant enough affair, with a jazz trio, friendly folks to chat with, good wine, and a light, Asian-inflected supper in a tented area adjacent to the Pavilion. I ran into fellow STASH member Linda, an unexpected bonus. The view east, across the city and toward the Cascades, was spectacular, as always. What a spot, as Jerry likes to say.
I was surprisingly put off, though, by the gathering as such. I hated the fact that a crowd of people were eating, drinking and generally yakking it up in "my" tranquil green garden, my special retreat, my single favorite place in Portland. I had no idea I'd react in such a proprietary way. I'd never been to the Garden this late in the day; I was looking forward to it, and I'd brought my camera thinking the evening light might show me something new. There was no evening light to speak of -- it drizzled, off and on, all day and into the night -- but the Garden was still beautiful.
I felt better after we left the party for a while and took a short walk to the waterfall and koi pond. And I did buy some Art, a piece by Jan Rentenaar. It's a tiny ceramic sculpture of Usagi, the rabbit who lives on the moon. Here he is posed on some appropriate fabric from my stash.
Speaking of small creatures, China Rose has been particularly nesty recently. I just posted three more "awww...." shots on Flickr, for you cat people, starting here.
And speaking of art, I've had fabric on my design wall for the last few weeks, but it's been too hot and/or I've been too distracted and/or uninspired for any compelling ideas to emerge. What I am going to tackle, maybe even this afternoon, is a quite traditional ribbon-block table mat (think of a single large placemat). I'd set aside my fabric selection for this project years ago, before we even had a yellow-and-green kitchen. We have two sets of purple napkins, which will tie in well.
Sometimes it helps to work on something straightforward and mundane while the more interesting projects percolate in the subconscious. That's my theory, anyway, and I'm stickin' to it. It couldn't possibly be that I don't have a single creative idea left in my head.