Sunday, July 24, 2011

In Search of Bird Baths

Recently, I concluded that my garden is in need of a water feature. Fearing I might blend, and knowing I don't need yet another "thing to maintain," I decided I would seek out a bird bath. What is a bird bath? Is it simply a dish on a pedestal? During my search, I discovered that a requirement of every bird bath is that is must be horrifically ugly. Why would a bird want to bathe in that? And, why on earth would I want that in my yard? Not only were they all hideous, but they were expensive as well. Insult atop injury, I was even more determined to find one that was amazing, even if I had to make it myself. Insert dramatic music here. I may be an artist, but I am also a perfectionist, which simply put, means that most of the projects that I start are amazing, but few of them every are finished. 

Make it myself? How would that work? So, now I'm on a shopping mission to find the perfect parts for my bird bath. Partie deux? To do it on the cheap. First stop, The Home Depot, where I find a giant vase on a stem for forty bucks. Ugly. Next stop, TJMaxx, where I find a terra cotta bird bath, glazed in red paint. Really? Red paint? Moving along. On the way to my car, I decide to pop into Pier 1 Imports, where a very friendly, but not too friendly, store manager asks if she can help me. Afraid to tell her what I am looking for, fearing she might show me the grand prize winner of the ugliest bird bath contest, I reluctantly get the words out. "I'm looking for a bird bath, but..." She interrupts and proceeds to tell me about how this woman had been in there the other day and made one out of a table and a dish. Realizing my original idea is anything but, I listen. She said the woman used the base of one of these tables and put a hand-blown glass dish on it. "It was stunning," she continued. Well, I thought to myself, "If hers was stunning, then mine needs to be extraordinary."

Looking around, I finally found a base I liked on a table that had a broken top, so the helpful manager gave it to me for a discount. Then I began my hunt for a unique dish, which would either make this a work of art or yet another unsightly bird bath. Twenty minutes later, I went back to TJMaxx and found the perfect top -- a copper dish with an asymmetric aqua leaf glaze. Sparkling and alluring, I figured you would have to be one dumb bird not to want to bathe in such a lavish plash.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Dancing at the Funeral

My Italian grandfather's funeral in December -- what better event to turn back the clock? Everyone's sad and reminiscing, except the kids. They have random questions about the service, the cemetery, and the "why's?" Always a well-stocked supply of those. Kids always have the practical, logical and unexpected commentary at such events. In itself, their presence is refreshing. No preconceived notions about any of it. Meanwhile, the adults are discussing the complicated family dynamics, the details that never really need to be voiced, and all the harsh realities of the passing of time. I prefer to spend my time with the kids. Uncomplicated and real, but never too real.


One way I find to really get into their little minds, is to give them my camera. Photos from their perspective are always more interesting than those shot by adults. After the funeral and cemetery run, we all gather at the place we have always gathered for forty-plus years for the luncheon. Faded red Naugahyde booths, dark and cool, poinsettias and carnations everywhere, filled with relatives I have known forever, and still some I have yet to meet. I don't have the energy to take photos, but I also know that I will regret it later. I decided to give my camera to my nine- and eleven-year-old cousins. The photos were, as I suspected, amazing. Next time you're sad or caught up in the uninspiring complexities of simply walking the planet as a adult, spend some time with a kid. Give them your camera, and just enjoy the moments they capture. It's obviously something we don't do nearly often enough, and kids are experts at savoring the moment, willing to help us do the same anytime we need it.