Planting iris bulbs and watching lights twinkle - and then there's mail art

A year ago, on December 1, I joined with a group of 80-some folks who decided to make 365 pieces of mail art in one year.  Since then, we've had a total of 125+ people sign up to be part of the project.

Everyone has worked / is working at their personal best speed.  I'm a binge mail artist; I like doing a whole pile all at once, and I like doing series and themes.This piece is from my Postal Art series.

This piece is from my final-50 series, which contains observations and comments and philosophy of a year's worth of mail art. Yes, I have finished all 365 pieces.  Today I realized I wanted them to be not only finished but posted on my mail art blog and also on the Mail Art 365 blog where all of the participants post art.

The mad dash to total victory was interrupted today by a serious desire to prepare for winter.  I got into the ground the iris bulbs that I dug up at my old house in Spartanburg, South Carolina, which came to me from Middle Bass Island, Ohio, in 1996 or thereabouts.  I also planted the red flowers my daughter sent home with me in June when I was in North Carolina for my grandson's graduation; and I transplanted the monster hosta she gave me then, too.  It did well this summer, but I think it will appreciate the late afternoon shade it will get next year.

I headed out to get supplies at Hancock Fabrics.  The one on Dixie Highway must be the worst of the Hancocks in the country, based solely on the number of potholes in their parking lot, the inconvenience of their cutting table, and the absence of two out of two items I went to purchase.  However, their $9 per yard Christmas fabrics were 60 % off, so I got half yard hunks of five, plus a chicken fabric and one that looks like exploding dandelions.  A successful run.  And then on the way home I got to admire the houses with Christmas lights.  I was especially taken with one done in purples, with those hangy-down lights spread across the front of the house and on a number of shrubs.  The installers were standing back near the road, admiring their handiwork and I was happy enough at the sight to roll down the window and tell them, "It's really beautiful."

Now I'm bone tired, and Laramie the Chihuahua is trying her best to sleep in my lap while I type, resting her chin on my left wrist, which is a little less effective for both of us than we might hope.  So we're off to bed.  Tomorrow I should finish posting all of my Mailart 365 pieces, which will put me back in the running to finish my fibonacci series on time.  I've written more than I've posted; now it's time to prioritize their public emergence.