Yesterday my handyman/crafter/artist neighbor from across the street came at my invitation to collect herbs, and we had a long rambling conversation over herbs and what we used them in, news of his family, Handsome Son, neighbor's wife completing her doctorate, his mother stuffing ever more plants into her tiny yard, she can't stop, his daughter starting grad school at her employer's expense, wheeee, and his own current projects.
His main income is renovation and design of small properties, but in the course of that he's made contacts which bring him fine craft commissions.
Currently he's working on a couple of these, this isn't his, just an example
They're a kind of unique gift for the person who has everything, because not only are they locally craftsman-made, they're made only from the wood of trees felled on the campus. The carpentry shop gives him raw chunks of cherry, oak, elm and other woods. The two boards he's working on are to be made from walnut, and he has a slab of walnut still with bark on, ready to cut down and shape, when it stops raining. He's also planning an inlay stripe up the middle of the boards, of another wood.
After he left, with a bag of sage, Italian basil, Thai basil, lemon balm, curry leaves and chives, I spent a while outside under the butterfly bush. I was officially reading Barbara Pym, but really watching silver spot butterflies, little brown butterflies, various kinds of bees and a couple of clear wing hummingbird moths all at work. No biting insects, perfect.
In more humble art news, I finished that glove
Here's the next stitched block in progress for the wall hanging. I do like planning and stitching these individual pieces.
Back on earth, I had another mysterious household issue. Here it is, fixed by Gary in a mad rush before he went off to Florida for a couple of weeks.
Scene: Downstairs bathroom. Switched on the light, little bit fell off the fitting, that bit at the bottom, like an edge. And the result was that the light wouldn't stay off unless I wedged it with a shim of cardboard. From the misfits box, to be exact.
I explained it to Gary, thinking I just needed a switch plate. He explained back that it was a bit of the switch that had fallen off, and he could find a matching one at home, since he'd replaced all his original switches for posher ones. Which he did. I held the flashlight. The cardboard shim is now recycled, and the switch works.
Happy day, everyone, there's a time to stop shining your little light, too! But this one's always welcome.
Photo AC