TODAY, THERE WAS CAKE

Coconut cake from Edna's Restaurant in Chicago.

URBAN OASIS

In between interviews today, I took some time to visit Chicago's Garfield Park Conservatory. It's pretty cold here, and there's still some snow on the ground, so taking a walk through ferns and flowers was a welcome little retreat.














My sweet tooth found an oasis this afternoon, as well: a slice of sweet potato pie at Izola's Family Dining. You knew there was going to be pie, didn't you? Of course there was pie. And it was awesome.

CHICAGO BOUND

While Kurt continues digging in the dirt, planting seeds and enjoying spring in Mississippi, I'll be heading for chilly Chicago, where there's fresh snow on the ground. As always, though, it will be a wonderful trip, filled with great people, interesting stories and plenty of photographs.
















The photographs here are from my last trip to Chicago, which was back in 2001. It was the spring before I moved to Mississippi. My friends Claire and Russell few me up to the Windy City, where they were living at the time, for my birthday. It was a fabulous weekend. And if memory serves, even spring in Chicago is pretty darn chilly.

I'm looking forward to being in the big city, but it's going to be hard to miss a week of this glorious weather we've been having here. I just hope I don't miss the dogwoods.

DIGGING IN THE DIRT

Digging in the dirt: a great Peter Gabriel song and how Kurt is spending this Easter weekend.















I did my bit. I tromped through the garden barefoot and documented the entire scene.

The only thing in the garden at the moment is a row of green onions that have gone to seed. Soon, though, there will be rows upon rows of tomatoes, squash, cucumbers and more. I can't wait.

Happy Easter, everyone.

ED & EDNA

These two have been hanging out with us all week. They fly in each morning and fly out at dusk. We've decided that they must spend the night in the marsh behind our house. Who knows where they camp; we're just happy to see them in our pond. And the other day when we came home, they were making themselves right at home in our front yard. They're getting so comfortable around here, I feel like we might just see them up on the porch one of these days. They're more than welcome, although Friday, our cat, might have a thing or two to say about it.

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?

Pickled eggs at Big Jim's in Clarksdale, MS


Easter reminds me of two things:

1. Hunting and then eating Jello eggs as a small child. You know, the kind that are made by blowing out real eggs, carefully filling them with Jello, and then refrigerating them until they're ready to be hidden. After the Jello is set, you can crack the thing like a real egg--a hardboiled egg, that is. And then eat it, of course. I only remember my parents making Jello eggs once, but it was, obviously, one unforgettable Easter.
















Poppop and me at Katie's wedding, 1999.


2. Spending the holiday at my college roommate's grandparents' house in Baltimore. Katie's grandfather, Poppop, was Greek and put on an incredible spread of lamb, spanakopita, and homemade yogurt every Easter. After dinner, Poppop and I would do a Greek sailor dance together in the basement. (I hope your family still makes some of Poppop's wonderful food for the holidays, Miss Katie, and that your sweet girls have a connection with their Grand Poppop this time of year. Mommom, too.)

This year, I'll be spending some time in the studio on Good Friday and then heading to Chicago on Easter Sunday. I don't foresee any Jello eggs in my near future, unless United Airlines has a surprise in store. A Greek feast is much more likely. Maybe we'll give that a whirl.

A PEEK AT THE PONDS

Thought I'd round out your idea of what's going on here at the homestead with a little snapshot of our front yard. You can't really tell from the picture, but there's a narrow little inlet behind that clump of trees that connects the two ponds. Ed and Edna happen to appear in this photo, as well, although you can hardly see them. If you look closely, you might be able to make out two dark grey specks on the sandy pond bank near the center of the picture.

The yard is looking pretty good right now. The ponds are full, and the grass is getting green. Pretty soon, those trees will be full of leaves and the garden in full swing. I absolutely love spring in Mississippi.

DUCK, DUCK, GOOSE

Some Canadian geese landed in our pond on Sunday. We spent much of the day watching them eat our grass, swim from shore to shore, and honk at our neighbor's dog. It was quite entertaining. And really, there's nothing quite like seeing a couple of beautiful birds enjoying your pond, coasting effortlessly across the water's surface. Especially when there's now twice as much pond for them to enjoy.

Eventually, the geese, whom I've taken to calling Ed and Edna, took flight. But yesterday morning they returned and spent another day napping on the pond bank and waddling around the yard. We thought it was a fluke, until this morning when, as we were eating breakfast on the front porch, they gracefully landed in the pond once again. And then there they were, still enjoying our yard, when we arrived home from work this evening. I don't know where they spend the night, but they sure know a good thing when they have it.

See you in the morning, Ed and Edna.

A HILL OF BEANS

Sorry the blog has been quiet for a bit. I had to wean myself from the computer, so I could get the full effect of my many-days-in-a-row of studio time. It was a glorious thing.

Here's a peek at the can of beans I mentioned in my last post. The painting isn't finished yet. Still, I thought you deserved a peek. And yes, that's a real necklace draping the right corner of the piece. I was considering adding it to the composition--and might still--so it hangs there until I decide. That necklace, by the way, was a gift from my friends Unk and Gloria Quick down in Apalachicola. I imagine they like beans.

As I began this post, I thought I'd Google "can of beans" to see what might come up. Lo and behold, there's a website about a can of black beans that has circled the globe, Beans Around the World. The can's escapades are fully documented in words and images. Lucky beans.

Last night, Kurt and I watched Amelie once again. It's one of my very favorite movies. If you've seen it, you'll remember the bit about the gnome that traveled the world. Lucky gnome.

And now it's back to work. No beans, no necklaces, no gnomes.

YES, PLEASE

This beautifully decadent slice of chocolate meringue pie has nothing to do with the time I spent in the studio today. It does, however, have everything to do with the fact that I sure do wish I had a piece.

I had a productive day in the studio, priming boards and sketching out new ideas. I finally managed to pick up a brush around mid-day and had a ball painting a can of beans. Still, I might have to create a composition involving pie. That, or drive back to Clarksdale and grab a whole one of these bad boys from Chamoun's Rest Haven. I think that would be three hours well spent, don't you?

OYSTERS ON THE BRAIN

Oysters have been on my mind lately. I ate a dozen in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago, and then I had some again last weekend in Clarksdale. Today, I painted an oyster shell.

I did a painting of oysters a handful of months ago and found that I really love painting the empty shells. It's so satisfying to add so many transparent layers of color, imbuing the shells with a deep radiance.

So this painting is about New Orleans. It's so hard to show pieces before they're done. Know that it will all make sense when I'm finished.

A DELTA GOOD TIME

Our anniversary weekend in the Delta did not disappoint. In fact, there must be something magical about wedding anniversary number three because this weekend ranks as one of our very best trips to the Delta, ever. It was a perfect storm of food, fun and yes, snow. Behold our snow-covered shack at the Shack Up Inn.



The university closed early on Friday because of a winter storm warning that was heading our way, so Kurt and I loaded up the wagon and headed for the Delta a little early. Still, we hit that winter storm head-on. I've been in Mississippi for seven years and have never seen as much snow as I saw on Friday. It was so magical to see the Delta covered in a blanket of white. By the time we got to our shack, it was a regular blizzard. We felt like we were in Michigan all over again. That is, uuntil we were sitting at Chamoun's Rest Haven, eating our fill of kibbie, dolmas, tabouli and, of course, their killer chocolate meringue pie. After dinner, we headed straight back to our shack to get warm and play some cards. Kurt kicked my butt.

The weather cleared on Saturday, and we didn't let a moment go to waste. We went back to Chamoun's for a hearty breakfast, spent some downtime at the shack, and then hit the road for Rosedale in the early afternoon.

Rosedale is home to Joe's Hot Tamale Place, which is run by Joe's sister Barbara. Barbara has become a good friend, so we wanted to make sure to pay her a visit. We also wanted to make sure to have some of her hot tamales, which are, hands down, my number-one favorite. Before we knew it, we devoured two dozen and had a dozen more packed up to take back with us to Clarksdale.


Saturday evening we headed to Ground Zero, so Kurt could get his pool game on. I tried to be a good opponent but eventually offered my cue up to another bar patron. Kurt was kicking my butt yet again.

From there, we headed to dinner at Ramon's: oysters, shrimp, steak, fries and pasta. I didn't take any photos at Ramon's but rest assured, the the meal was out of this world.

After dinner we headed back to Ground Zero, where we cut a rug to Big T and the Family Band. They rocked the house. They even gave us a little shout-out from the stage. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

And then Sunday came, and brought with it the end to our magical anniversary weekend. And, to our surprise, Daylight Saving Time.

Thanks to each of you who took the time to send us your well wishes while we were away.

And now, it's off to the studio.

ANNIVERSARIES

Next week--March 12, to be exact--Kurt and I celebrate our three-year anniversary. We got married in the Delta, so we celebrate in the Delta, and this year we're celebrating early. Tonight we're heading to Clarksdale and the Shack Up Inn, where hosted our rehearsal dinner with friends and family back in 2005. That night we had fried catfish and listened to Big T. This weekend, we'll surely be having some fried food (probably some fried shrimp at Ramon's), and we'll be lucky enough to get to catch Big T performing at Ground Zero on Saturday night. And, of course, we'll be reveling on our three years of wedded bliss, taking stock of what we've done together and what adventures still lie ahead. I'll also be kicking Kurt's butt in Scrabble.

Another little anniversary passed recently without much fanfare: my one-year blogging anniversary. I thought to make mention of it, but it happened while I was on the road, and I just couldn't muster the thoughtful reflection. Maybe next week, when I'm off on vacation, working some paintings (finally!). I'll try to be diligent about posting some thoughts, ideas, and updates from the studio.

Until then, happy anniversary to me. And to you, too, my love!

SINGIN' THE BLUES

Me, Ben "Scatman" Turner, Marchel Ivery, Erin Wright, Jelando "Jerry" Johnson, and Marsha Frazier at Sambuca in Houston, 1999


My mother recently sent me a newspaper clipping about the passing of legendary Houston musician Calvin Owens. Reading it brought back a flood of memories.

I first met Calvin Owens back in 1997, when I was living in Houston. I was twenty-six and obsessed with the Houston jazz scene. I met jazz drummer G. T. Hogan at a party (he was part of the band that night) and was soon attending his gigs all over town. G.T. introduced me to Calvin and a host of other super-talented musicians. It was a fun time, and I learned a lot--about music and people. Here I was, a young woman, hanging out with senior citizens, having the time of my life. I would often try to get some of my friends to hit the town along with me but, invariably, I'd go it alone--to gigs, festivals, and late-night jam sessions.

Me with G. T. Hogan at Sambuca in Houston, 1999

G. T. also introduced me to Gloria Edwards. It was the night of the grand opening of Sambuca, a jazz club downtown, and I was invited to the pre-opening sound check. At one point during the evening, I found myself alone at a table with Gloria. She told me about her love of the Blues, the power of song, and the feeling she gets from being on stage. I was captivated. Soon after, I made sure to catch her at Cezanne, a small neighborhood haunt, where she was doing a tribute to Dinah Washington. Gloria blew me away. Every since that night, we've been good friends. We've road-tripped to Blues festivals around Texas, eaten hog maws together, and she recruited the absolute best collection of musicians ever to play our engagement party in Houston three years ago. And last summer, Gloria and her husband, Nelson Mills III, paid us a visit here in Oxford.

Nelson Mills and Gloria Edwards Mills standing in our corn patch, July 2007


I think about what I do now--collect oral histories--and regret that I never recorded conversations with any of these folks. G. T., for example, was such a fascinating man. Originally from Galveston, he started out playing the piano and singing in the style of Nat King Cole so he could get gigs. Later, he turned to the drums and toured Europe with some of the biggest names in jazz. He played with Kenny Dorham, Charles Mingus, and Bud Powell. He knew Billy Holiday and Abbey Lincoln. He used to tell me how disappointed he was when his career eventually evaporated. He had returned home to Galveston from Paris at the behest of his mother, and he never was able to get back on the road. He hit his stride later in life, though, and was a sought-after drummer in Houston. G. T. passed away a few years ago. Today, it's hard to dig up any information on him. There are very few mentions of him online, only his name listed in the liner notes of a handful of jazz albums.

So many of the musicians I knew and loved in the big city scene have gone: G. T., Rick Porter, Ben "Scatman" Turner. And just tonight, as I was looking for a link about Marchel Ivery, who appears in the photograph up top, I found out that he passed away in October.

Still, there's some good news. Last time I was in Houston, I got to see a lot of my musician friends at a Monday night jam session. It felt just like the old days. And at the end of the night, Gloria sat in for a song and took my breath away all over again.

For those of you in Houston, make sure to head to the Houston International Festival in April. Gloria and Nelson are putting on a fabulous show with some of the biggest names on the Houston jazz/blues scene. From the Houston Press website:

The Cotton Club: Several Houston artists recreate the sights and sounds of the legendary Harlem nightclub featured in Francis Ford Coppola’s eponymous 1984 film: Nelson Mills III as Cab Calloway; Mills’ wife Gloria Edwards as Dinah Washington; Diunna Greenleaf as Bessie Smith; Barrie Lee Hall as Duke Ellington; Carolyn Blanchard as Lena Horne; and Leo Polk as Louis Armstrong.

Don't get me started about Diunna Greenleaf and Leo Polk. I might just have to take another road trip.

MORE ROAD TRIP PHOTOS ON FLICKR

Go here to see more photographs from my recent jaunt through the great state of Georgia, inspirational pig signs included.

NOT A TRIP TO YOUR LOCAL HARDWARE STORE

As most of you know, Kurt shattered his wrist, oh, about a month ago. Two weeks ago, he had surgery. Last week, he had a follow up visit, and the doctor made this lovely post-op X-ray. So you know what you're looking at, that's one fairly large metal plate and nine--nine!--one-inch screws. Kurt's doctor was a little shy about listing the amount of hardware that we actually ended up purchasing when he filled out Kurt's discharge papers; he vaguely listed that Kurt had "multiple" screws put in his wrist. He was probably right in thinking that mentioning more than, say, three screws might be a little disconcerting.

Another modern medical miracle in addition to all of these nuts and bolts: glue. There's not a stitch to be seen on the five-inch incision they made on the inside of his wrist. All of this is beginning to sound like a weekend craft project, not a joint reconstruction.

So yes, Kurt has been admiring his scar, playing around with magnets, and there have been lots of jokes about his next pass through airport security. And I'm sure there will be lots of can-you-hand-me-a-screw jokes, once he's back on the job, finishing the studio. Here's hoping Kurt can resist the desire to pick up his hammer for just a little while longer.

WASH HANDS BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK

At the Pink Pig in Cherry Log, GA

After ten days on the road, I'm finally back in Oxford. It was a fun and fruitful trip, but it's good to be home.

It'll take some time to gather my thoughts, upload files, and catch up at work, but I intend to share more photographs from the road real soon.