Dispatch From LA

disordered splendor

my friend susan has lovely gardens.

i'm especially fond of the one on her rooftop.

it's concealed from the street below by a thicket of flowering vines and a sweet lilac colored wall.

the beauty lies in the details.  

fallen petals glow under drops of light.

disordered splendor

susan has an eye for details

 i always have to walk around undisturbed for awhile before I actually go in for a proper hello.

she likes to read out on her balcony in the evenings.  tucked in behind a lush veil of olive trees.

sometime i'll take you on a tour of the inside of her house.

but for right now i'm stealing away to my own back patio to sink into my newest summer read.

mmmmmmm good!

the flavor of summer

i found this bottle of st. germain in santa barbara.  

a friend's garden.  no relation between the two except the colors are so nice together.

elderflower liqueur + club soda + a tall glass of ice + a lemon wedge.

when i read about it recently i knew i would like it.  thirst quenching & very light.  {plus i love the story of how it's made.}

  imagine a drink the perfect flavor of summer garden.  this is it.

more st. germain recipes HERE.

I Am Undone

Hey you, how are you this bright July day?  You will be pleased to know that the summer train finally arrived in LA.   It must be 150 degrees outside.  Dry heat that will singe your nose hairs.  I am undone.  Completely.

We Californians are a whiny weather-centric lot.  If the temperature moves upwards of 75ish, beads of sweat form on our brows.  Move below 68 or so and we unpack the fur-lined parkas and snow boots.  We can't help it.

Photos from Susan's house and garden.  We drank sweet tea and lounged about.  Discussed novels which take place in Istanbul.  I have one on the way.  Meanwhile Climates arrived from Netflix.  The second I'm done typing this I'm going to lounge about in the air conditioning and watch it!  I may need a daiquiri.  And a nice pan of ice water in which my hot feet can rest.

Susan's Orchid Pots

I found these silver tea pots on the street last week.  Spotted them on the sidewalk. Slammed on my brakes.  Hard steer to the right.    Collected them.  To what end I do not know.  

Susan knew.  She said, "Give me those pots NOW."  I did.  She started with tables & chairs, but has moved on to orchid pots.  I'll get to those in a minute.  But first let's rest a moment in her outdoor den.  

 

It's a perfect place to contemplate my upcoming trip to Istanbul.  Or smoke a water pipe.  Dive headfirst into 1001 Arabian Nights.

  

Decide which orchid pot to steal first.

 

 

 

 

Susan has 900 assorted old metal pots primed and lined up on shelves in her studio.  She paints constantly.  Occasionally she stops to go grocery shopping.  But not often.  

 

Obsession.  Just let it happen.

Go HERE to see how she dolled up the old tea pot.  Wow.  Um.  Wow.

 

I Endeavor To Study This More Carefully

While the cat posse study the back patio shenanigans, I have gone forth into the gardens and patios of friends to steal ideas.

 

Everything is lush and Mediterranean at Cristina's cottage.  I've always wanted an enormous bougainvilla rambling over something.

 

I have been promised a cutting of this brugmansia Angel Trumpet tree when I am ready.  They are easy to start by just sticking the branch in the soil.  Garden of Eden here I come!
 
   

In addition to coveting her garden, my eyes glinted and narrowed when I saw the gate.  But how to get it off it's hinges with a glass of wine in my hand?  I endeavor to study this more carefully.
 

 

In the meantime some tiles arrived.

 

And I've made a trip to the nursery to take a look at the succulents.  Nearly every container that was on my patio will be planted in the ground.   Less to trip over when I'm walking around in a stupor of some kind or another.

 

 

 

Susan

You might remember my post last year about Susan, my cool neighbor in the purple house with the lush garden that I featured in this post.  This evening I am planning a cocktail hour for 1 out on my back patio.  My martini has it's very own painted metal table on which to rest while I ponder the mysteries of the known and unknown universe.  This is thanks to Susan, who has shifted from painting outdoor patio thrones to vintage metal & wood tables.

You'll want to hightail it over to her ETSY SHOP and see what she's been up to since my last update.  Do click on the pics so you can read her clever & whimsical descriptions.  This one is called ...

Never Satisfied.

Catherine Thinks About Her Husband

Mary Ann's New Fence

Susan is trying to recruit me into the Bewilder-Your-Neighbors-With-Your-Sassy-Fence club.  I'm almost ready to join and I love to be recruited.  

Happy Friday!

~

Don't Fret

I'm sorry.  Throwing the polaroids into the air and watching them land {figuritively speaking of course} is way more fun than arranging them so they can actually be seen clearly.  Don't fret.  Go look for Paul's Polaroids over there on the left.  Got a Mac?  Wanna make your own polaroids in like 3 seconds on your desktop with sound effects?  Go to Polardroid.  Clear your schedule.  I'm just saying.

A couple more postcards for your viewing pleasure.  Or displeasure whatever the case may be.  

Now back to the business at hand.  Where was I?  Oh yeah....unplugging computer, turning up music and heading to art table.  There's a visual journal that needs my attention!

Get A Load Of This Throne

My neighbor Susan who lives across the street in a luscious purple house, has an outdoor terrace studio where she labors away on these glowing bistro tables. I strolled over on Saturday to check out her latest series of stories. Yes, I said stories.

The table above, with legs and lower stand yet to be painted, is one of her LA GIRLS. "The LA Girls cannot resist the charms of Bali."

Each of these jewels is more fabulous than the next. The red number above: "The LA Girls return from India with many souvenirs."

Let's move in for a closer look, shall we?
 

Lately Susan's tabletop stories have grown more elaborate and intricate. Each metal canvas she renders is pulsating with life & color. This is made all the more remarkable by the fact that these tables and chairs are her first foray into the world of art-making. Yep. You heard me right. Her. First. Foray. Into. Artland.

Whenever I visit I'm stunned. I mean, wouldn't you be?

The pink beauty above: "The LA Girls try and remember exactly what fertilizer they used in the rose garden."
 

Next up: "The LA Girls enjoy their budget vacation in Mexico."

Get a load of this throne.

And finally the outdoor rooftop azotea where the magic happens.

Get your arse over to Susan's Etsy storefront for more lovely patio stories. Then go see what Domino magazine had to say about her.  You can thank me later.  

Dear Plant, You're Pretty

I am in love with this plant that sits in my next-door neighbor's garden. This is the first I have seen it bloom in 5 years. I suspect it is in the agave or yucca family, but I don't know. What I do know is that I could pull up a chair and gaze all down the long length of each blooming branch for the next month. I am that in love. If you saw it, really saw it in realtime not blogtime, you would be too. In love, I mean. You would want to write a poem about it. It would probably come out better than mine.

dear plant
you're pretty
don't stop blooming
i love you
the end

2nd grade sentiments about plant life have influenced my style. This is why I leave the poetry in more capable hands.

It is what I was born for-
to look, to listen,

to lose myself inside this soft world-
to instruct myself
over and over

Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

In between porch sitting and picture taking I'm accomplishing nothing. On today's schedule only a trip to a bookstore. More than one errand at a time feels like hurrying. Add to that list: watching the bees.

Posing cut-out birds in the garden is not exactly an errand, but I will do more of it.

ditto eating blackberries and yogurt.

I may open the visual journal and look inside.

Or maybe it will be enough to look inside of a rose.

We'll see.

Our House Had A Heart And A Soul

Our house had a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with;

and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies;

it was of us, and we were in its confidence,

and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benediction.

We never came home from an absence that its face did not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome

and we could not enter it unmoved.

TYN invited me over today on this most beautiful of blustery Saturday afternoons. Like I, she lives in a house built in the '20's. It is my favorite kind of house. Ramshackle, spilling over with worn beauty and frayed edges.

It is a house with a warm BIG presence. Nooks and crannies begging to be seen. Stunning views the eyes can't fully absorb. Color on top of color. Light on top of shadow. This house has it ALL. While I walked around with my gracious hosts and my camera, the Mark Twain piece above kept reading itself aloud in mind.

And I listened.

I couldn't help but be distracted by the visual poetry of this house. Later while strolling the grounds, hawks flew overhead. Clouds blew past. Tiny white blossoms rained down from the trees.

Tyn picked me this dear bouquet of narsturtium, sweet peas, sunflowers, geraniums, and wildflowers while we walked. They sit above me here on my desk and fill the room with fragrance.

A parting shot.

Thanks Tyn & Harry for letting me and my camera run wild.

Mailart Bliss

Stop what you’re doing right this second and go get your bullhorn out of the car, or garage, or trunk, or wherever it is you keep it! Your going to need it when you see what I got in the mail today. What? Of course I’m not exaggerating. You’ll see. In about 90 seconds you will be cursing worse than Luther and I at that Cussing Championship I told you about a while back. You may recall I won the trophy. So you can imagine the mighty stream of bad words coming out of my dainty pink mouth and piercing the ears of the cat posse around 4:15 this afternoon.

I mean come on...is this one big fat breath stopping bunch of excitement or what? OR WHAT? huh? Say 3 curse words right now into your bullhorn. The worst ones you can think of.

Rambling Rose YOU have gone and outdone yourself. Thanks from the bottom of my ever loving heart.

My sister will be delirious to know that half of this great big bootyliscious package was intended for her. I am getting out my scales right now. Everything will be divvied up to the ounce in a fair and balanced manner. I mean, to the best of my ability it will. If a few extra ounces land on my pile it would be through no mal intent on my part. It would be an Accident. Accidents happen everyday.

Don’t put the bullhorn away just yet. As I reached past the bundle above I happened upon an old envelope that looked as though it had been put into the mouth of the Pony Express back in 1941. I looked around thinking someone had played a trick on me. That’s just how my mind works. Tricks, pranks, accidents. You know, just your normal everyday mind clutter. I didn’t see anything suspicious. That’s when I looked down and noticed something odd. The address was on the back and the stamps were on the front. Hmmmmm....Was Nick Bantock trying out some new postal romance on me? Was this the start of an entirely new Griffin & Sabine saga with me starring as Sabine?
NO. It was my new Ebay stencils from the auction I won 3 weeks ago and forgot about. Total cost for this baby including postage? Less than $8.00 All the way from INDIA! And...........the nice person who sent them didn’t ignore my request for the front page from the local newspaper. Do you know how many of my Ebay purchases must think I’m kidding about that? All of them. How cool is that? The sweetheart from around the world was kind enough to honor my strange request. Look at this lovely lovely type from the newspaper. I am very touched. You better believe every last piece of that paper will be finding its way into my journal. She also sent me some complimentary Bindi for my forehead. I’m wearing one to school tomorrow. Yes I am.

As for the stencils, they will be coming to a visual journal page near you very soon.

Here is what my visual journal looked like on Sunday. Now see what it looked like on Monday. I know what you’re thinking. Why did she cover up all those stencils? This is just par for the course with me. My brain works in layers. I like subterfuge, hidden things, and all those dark crevices of the mind. Subconciously my pages reflect this. I didn’t do it on purpose that’s just how it worked out. After the tornado that spun through my head had moved on this is what was left. I too was left wondering where the stencils went. I know there’s medication for this, and if I weren’t so fascinated by all of my own mental disorders so much I’d take it. I really would.

Now as if that weren’t enough pure joy for one day, I went down to water the garden and my nice neighbor hollered over to me and asked if I wanted any of this big bowl of YUM. It’s so impolite to turn down offers of dinner so I eagerly accepted. Say 3 more curse words in a row. Don’t hold back.

I couldn’t end this post without this special page for Robin who I heard crying out for help from the comments section. Shhhh...if you’re real quiet you can hear her too. See. Some people do appreciate a little emergency preparedness. Of course I hope she’s not dead by the time she reads this. I would have emailed it directly to her, but I was too darn busy with this book length blog post.

FINALLY...drum roll please...bullhorns in place...my Brothah Paul (no we did not spring from the same loins. Just the same itsy bitsy teensy weensy Catholic college on the great plains of Kansas 25 years ago) has opened his ETSY shop. He and his long-time companion, Joe - that's Rufus&Paco to you, have their show together and are taking it on the road. Go check out his FLICKER site to see all of his tin beauties and much much much more.

Sibling Hour

Today is my sister Dottie's 50th birthday. She is extremely happy and proud to have lived a half-century on planet Earth. I bet she's getting her pitchfork tines sharpened right this minute for her big trip out west. The pitchfork will need cleaning too, once she finishes mulching her Serious Kansas Garden with this GIANT bale of hay. No sissy gardening for her.

See those lovely crepes up there...her best friend in the whole wide world made her lemon and chocolate filled crepes for her birthday. Pssssst Joe..want a bite?

And here she is out on the Ponderosa after a hard day's work just enjoying those mighty fine looking birthday crepes.

Aren't these journal pages cool? They arrived in an email from my other sister, Carol, but I highjacked them to put on my blog. I mean wouldn't anyone? Wouldn't you? This is Family Week in case you were wondering. I have more photos of my brothah's house below. I can't help it. If Cottage Living doesn't want to do a spread on his house isn't it my sisterly duty to broadcast the wonder and delight? I want to move into his kitchen and live there permanently. Right next to that apple green glass decanter of dish washing liquid ( in the last post). Now my mom wants to play along on the blog. She's got something up her sleeve for tomorrow. It involves a few inventions of her very own she thinks people could benefit from learning about.

Now more photos from inside Paul's love shack. I dig this bottlecap mirror below and am currently working out a plan to kidnap it.

Finally, here is another of Paul's vintage tin dolls. Hey...he ain't heavy. He's my brother.

Does This Bag Make My Arse Look Big?

This is a small fraction of Joe's art. He is very skilled in many areas. My favorite of his work are his portraits. He just did this little series above on thick pieces of wood. Raise your hand if you think they are extremely cool. The piece below is on a giant rolling cart thing in Zinnia's. He made a lot of structural pieces for the store including the sign out front which I posted yesterday. Honk if you like this piece.

This is another of Paul's dolls. There are many. I will show you more tomorrow.

This is a line of Stamper's Anonymous images that Joe just designed. I told you he was All That.

This is a replica of the inside of Paul's brain. You probably already figured out that he made it out of an old lampshade. I have been as yet unable to photograph Joe's inner mind. Think: Edward Scissorhands.

This is Joe's Manpurse. He always carries a fork in the front pocket because he likes to taste things. Sometimes when he comes over to my house he goes straight to the fridge and begins to taste things. Or for example if he's in a restaurant and he likes the pie assortment in the piecase he just politely asks, "May I have a taste please?" I have never seen him be turned down.

This is Brothah's Manpurse. He does not carry a fork. He has a Seasame Street lunchbox that he carries his bologna sandwich to work in everyday. He does not like forks. I'll tell you why later.

This is the spare Manpurse.

This is their neighbor's cat. She likes pancakes, but does not have a fork, or a lunchbox, or a Manpurse. But she wants one.

Here is a shot of their kitchen. More tomorrow.

Happy Pancake Day

Today I went to breakfast with my brothah, Paul. Then we went to his friend Tamara’s store, ZINNIA'S for yacking and shopping. I hadn’t been in awhile. I almost bit my tongue when I saw all the piles and piles of cool stuff there was to DIG. A perfect marriage of Kitsch and artsy fartsy goodness. Visual journaler afficianados will be very pleased by the offerings. I got some flocked paper that I’m having a really hard time not using a bad word to describe. Also picked up some new Hambly Screen Print rub-ons, and a few other odds and ends. Holy Mackeral. If you live in Southern California and haven’t been to ZINNIA’S. You better get your tail in there and soon. If for no other reason than to see my brothah’s dolls. LOOK.

He makes them out of vintage tins and special old porcelain heads he gets from some fellow in Germany who literally digs them up from an abandoned china factory. He also makes these wild chaotic scrap tin necklaces. And these little altars. Wasn’t he a beautiful boy? He always did have better hair than me, but who’s holding grudges? Not me. I really wanted to post a photo of him with the jelly packs in his eye sockets at Colonial Kitchen, but he forbade it. He doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea about him...like they do about our sister. I guess you’ll just have to take my word that it was coffee-spitting funny. I was just looking down to make sure I hadn’t spilled any egg yolk on my shelf, uh I mean shirt, and when I looked up...2 Knott’s orange marmalade packs were staring back at me where eyes should be. Oyvey.

Here are some funky magnets that Paul made. In addition to making everything under the sun he also teaches classes at Zinnia's.

Need an endorphin rush? Who needs excercise? Just look at this rubber chicken purse. I did bite my tonge when I saw that and I started cursing (in my head of course) and I didn’t stop until we had left.

When we got back to Paul’s love shack his little neighbor girl had left this plate of pure sweetness on his doorstep complete with a note. Whoever thinks the world is a bad place filled with darkness and depravity must not know about Happy Pancake Day.

Basically I took so many photos inside my brothah’s house that I can’t post them all at one time. He’s going to be a guest blogger v.v. soon Just as soon as he takes the jam packs out of his eyes long enough to get serious. In the meantime I’ll be doling out brothah shots over the next few days. Tomorrow have oxygen nearby. You’re gonna need it because not only am I posting more scenes from the love shack, but will also introduce you to Joe, Paul’s partner. He is so shockingly talented it’s &?!*%$* unbelievable (insert cuss word of choice).

All Garden All The Time

Went to breakfast yesterday with a friend who lives on Beachwood Canyon in the old Hollywoodland section of Hollywood. We like to go to the 101 Coffeeshop so she can get the fried catfish and I can get the pancakes with sauteed bananas. Then we head back to her place on winding streets past storybook cottages and fairytale gardens.

Last year, while attending a conference at a downtown hotel, I rode the elevator down with a group of giddy and excited young Brits here on holiday. They were heading to Hollywood and were beside themselves with glee. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I’m a helpful person and couldn’t resist offering them a better itinerary than Hollywood Boulevard and Universal Studios. I mean don’t get me wrong, Hollywood has it’s share of charms, but they won’t be found next to the Kodak Theatre. I suggested a day spent exploring streets north of Franklin, then driving further east to the funky digs of Silverlake & Echo Park, and finally making their way back to explore West Hollywood, then south to check out some cool shops on Beverly. They gobbled up my suggestions, took notes, then skipped off to enjoy their day. I shuffled off to the remainder of my 20-minute coffee break.

More photos of my autumn visual journal below and above.

Eat here soon.

So for Sunday, the 56th day of my 60 day vacation, I present a few photos from a classic Hollywood neighborhood and some shots from other peoples’ gardens.

These photos are from my friend Susan’s splashy, wild, garden that I dearly love. Like me, she has a strong dislike for lawn space. Whenever I need inspiration for my impossibly large weedpatch that is slowly being converted to All Garden All The Time I come over here and sit a spell. Her lavender house isn’t bad either. And her psychedelic metal chairs are works of art.