sketchblog – Page 112 – Stephanie Sicore

March 14, 2006

Kath at Redcurrent made me a winner! Once again, I love Kath! And I can’t wait to get the pants in the mail.

Ford ran his first 1k fun run at the Austin Rodeo Rumble. We trotted beside him past cotton candy machines, hot dog stands and hat vendors, in the noontime heat. But he was a winner, himself! It was the first time in two years when he agreed to wear shorts and a tshirt (he prefers long clothing).

Chas lounged in the chariot with a popsicle:

Sheep dog trials were underway in the arena afterwards. Their finesse blew me away, and made me wish I were so effective corralling my own kids. Focused and efficient, the Australian shepherds rested on the ground while the cattle fumbled over each other on their way through chutes. We’ll have an Aussie Shepherd next door in a few days; our neighbors are moving from Santa Cruz county, dog in tow. Will it dutifully keep everyone out of the road? Hope so.

We spent the better part of yesterday hung over, the kids climbing all over us in blinding sunlight while we lay in bed. Around 5pm, I rallied the kids (as if they needed any help) for a neighborhood detox run. It was difficult. Ford wanted to run every so often in one-minute sprints, then recline in the twinner. I plodded along, feeling full of sand and rather gummy. But it was well worth it, because dinner the night before at Polly’s, drinking wine while the kids orbited around us at warp speed, was uplifting, totally fun. In the meadow behind their home, I saw the first bats of the season, flitting about above fresh green grass in the twilight.

We took a spring walk this morning at Zilker Botanical Gardens. I helped Ford list all the new emergences: flowering quince, fragrant mountain laurel, new growth at the base of old inland sea oats, cypress trees leafing out in whispy tufts of soft lime green needles, ferns unfurling in dappled shade.

I called out to Ford, “Look Ford, there’s some spiderwort!”
and he walked up to investigate, but snorted back “That’s NOT spiderwort! That’s Purple Heart, mom!”
And I smiled and shook my head, amazed at what four year-olds spit back out at their parents, these days. He looked up at me in rebuttal, face scrunched up in the sunlight.

Some unabashed, desperate attempt of one tree to get laid–what kind if tree is this?!:

March 11, 2006

Studio Friday: Eyes, and Chas’ Birth Quilt

When Chas was somersaulting in utero, around seven months, I began to stew up a birth quilt for him. At the time, Ford had checked out a book from the library that I found terribly inspiring, Ducklings and Pollywogs by Lizzy Rockwell. The guache and watercolor illustrations were flat but the compositions rich in detail, and I’d find myself oggling the pages when I was on the phone, or sipping coffee. It was the theme that most intrigued me: paying reverence to a small pond throughout the year, noticing small changes, seasons. So I chose to use a pond theme for the quilt. One afternoon I tore the colors I loved out of old magazines, and after I had a collection, began to assemble them on a page in my sketchbook. After the arrangement seemed right, I picked up a glitter pen and made droplets fall upon the water, adding rings of vibrations through the pond, as if I was looking into the water during a rain. For more interest, I started drawing black eyes of frogs. I cut them out and pasted them onto the paper (I had made about twelve little compositions). After that, I was in love.

Of course, after selecting fabrics and playing with applique, I chose a composition based less on cryptic eyeballs peeking out of the water and more on the idea of lilypads, or pods, on the water. Something more evocative of how I felt as I sewed: healthy, whole, very pregnant.

I handpainted the watery background, staining the kitchen floor with aqua splatters. Scraps of pond colors littered the hallway floor, beneath the table where I worked. Natural specimens lined the window above my sewing machine: reeds, willow blossoms, seed pods and empty chrysalises. With my machine, I sewed ripples in the water fabric with gossamer thread, sandwiching soft layers and different textures of cotton. I tied the quilt with different shades of green, like the aquatic plants that slide between my toes when I wade.

Chas noticed the circles one day, very young, and smiled, running his finger along the seam of a circle. I was so pleased.

And I like the way it turned out, myself.

March 10, 2006

I awoke this morning at 4am, staring up at the smoke detector’s red light staring back at me. Fat raindrops clinked on the dry gutter, the pats becoming crowded until the sound showered the roof with a roaring rain. I tossed in bed, restlessly wondering whether I’d closed the car’s sunroofs, until the rain became steady and sedate.

We had a playdate this morning. I love it when our home is full of kids, reassembling pretense and climbing over each other, cutting up the quiet order with their happy chatter. In the front’s wake, the sun shone brilliantly through zero atmosphere, as it does on mountaintops. While the boys played with the Millenium falcon on the driveway, I picked up a transparent purple beach ball and a racketball racket, volleying the ball against the garage door. I could slam it satisfyingly hard, with all my might, and it would cheerfully float back to the racket without complaining. Occasionally a gust would blow it towards the yuccas, but I’d run after it, flip-flops flapping, and slam the ball back towards the house, losing sight of it to the blinding sun.

The oaks and grasses sparkled in the sun but barely waved in the rolling wind, while three red-tailed hawks spun round overhead, crying into the canyon. Black vultures weaved in and out of each other, as commuter jets suspended long white threads behind them all, high up in the stratosphere. The Texas Mountain Laurel, blooming violet and happy, smells like grape bubble gum. The weatherman proclaims a weak year for wildflowers; we haven’t had enough rain.

It’s night now, and the moon has gilded the landscape with pale white light. I am counting all the toys I’m too lazy to go outside and pick up: two kids bicycles, a basketball hoop, several balls, two or three cups, a frisbee and a Tonka truck. They shine and sparkle under the constellations, and I could release the kids to play outside as it is, if they weren’t leaden with sleep in the bed. Besides, the coyotes are beginning to wail.