The Drama of Owning Turtles

Lately we've been through the trials and tribulations of owning turtles. Our large turtle, Chomper, has had a rough year. She got out of our penned-off area next to the pond and was savaged by our three dogs. About $1,000 later she's better but still suffers the scars of her battle (she gave as good as she got). Her shell is slowly recovering. Turtles are little tanks, it takes a lot to damage them, and they recover very slowly. But, I think she's blind now or has diminished eyesight. So we hand-feed her veggies and fish. She likes being handled so that's not an issue, but it's sad to see her bump around in the pond. She's a trooper though and I don't think it really bothers her that much. The up-side is she doesn't have a hankering to wonder around anymore to lay her eggs. We find them periodically in the filter so she's just laying them in the water. Seems strange that she'd lay eggs that are unfertilized but I guess they must.

Our other turtle, "the little one" is a little more skittish around us since we've only had her for a year. Bryant found her in the pond and brought her home. Must have been quite a surprise for her, but she's a good companion for Chomper and she no longer has to hunt for her food. They like to sun themselves together, or sometimes the little one sits on her back. She's about four times smaller than Chomper so they look like Mutt and Jeff together. 

A few night ago, we got quite the shock. I was fast asleep, it being 4 a.m., and suddenly was woken by the sound of a big splash. I ran outside thinking one of the dogs fell into the pond, and there was a raccoon in the pond fishing for our turtles! He quickly jumped out and ran for the fence when he saw me. I grabbed my glasses and flashlight and searched the pond. I saw Chomper but couldn't see the little one. Oh Lord, did I panic, I started crying and caterwauling which woke Bruce up. I ran to the fence and could see the raccoon on the other side. I kept picturing that damn raccoon ripping off the head of my poor turtle and was beside myself with grief and anger at that damn raccoon. In all the years we've lived here, none of the neighbourhood raccoon have dared come into our yard because of the dogs.  

Then I looked in the pond again and there she was! She had been hiding between the ramp and the platform. I was so happy and started crying again from the shear joy that she was still alive. Thank goodness Bruce installed a timer on the waterfall pump last month to turn if off at night or else I wouldn't have heard the splash. And thank goodness it was summer and I had the sliding glass door open.   

And where were my wonderful watch dogs? Fast asleep. 

The Soul of Quilts

I am a beginning quilter, having gotten hooked on the art by a dear friend Kay. It is an addiction, one of many crafting ones I have, sad to say. Kay and I have gone to a few quilting shows and have seen some amazing quilts that would take your breath away. The quilts today are more than something to keep you warm; they are works of art incorporate items other than fabric such as metal and wood.

Last Saturday I went to a funeral for a coworker, Mollie Fielder, and she was a quilter. At her funeral were numerous quilts she had made over the years on display and they were beautiful. I hadn't quilted in the past few months, and as I sat there thinking about Mollie, I started designing a quilted item in my head. I also decided that after the funeral I would go to a quilt exhibit they were having at a local museum as sort of a homage to Mollie. The exhibit was a collection of African-American quilts called Bold Expressions:

The exhibition showcases more than fifty quilts made throughout the American South between 1910 and the 1970s. Stunning color combinations and distinctively free patterns epitomize an artistic vision that is unique to the American folk art tradition. African American quilts, made entirely by women, are celebrated for their bold improvisation and modern take on traditional quilting patterns, such as the House Top or Log Cabin, Star of Bethlehem and Pine Burr. Many of the quilts are made from materials that were readily available to the makers, including flour sacks, old blue jeans and work clothes and fabric remnants. This early form of recycling and reuse was a necessity that became the foundation for unique expression. The exhibition will also explore a variety of construction techniques and quilting.[http://www.mingei.org/exhibitions/details/900]

When I first saw the exhibit I was a bit disappointed. Remember, up to this point the only other exhibits I’d seen were those exquisite art quilts. These quilts were quite the opposite; they were uneven, unmatched, lumpy, bumpy and well used. It looked like the fabric itself was well used before it became part of the quilt. They were defiantly folk art which I am not a fan of.

Then I took a second look at them, up close and with different eyes. I realized that the fabric was indicative of the time period. You saw what everyone was wearing at the time, it was a sampling of the history of fabric right down to the all polyester quilt from the 70s (did we really wear that God-awful material in those colours).

And then it hit me. These quilts were the history of these families. There was Uncle George’s very bright Hawaiian shirt he bought on leave during the war, and Aunt Mabel’s best church dress that she outgrew, and Grandpa’s overalls that couldn't take one more patch. These quilts were made from clothes that were no longer wearable. They were functional and yet there was the soul of the whole family lovingly sewn together to keep them warm. They were truly pieces of art.

So excuse me, I need to end this blog and go sew a quilt.