“What do you want for Christmas?” he said. “Jewelrymaking stuff,” I replied. I panicked. I was casting a wide net.
I have always been afraid to even go down this path, as it requires a lot of stuff and a lot of patience for dealing with small pieces.
So far I am sticking to fairly simple stuff and trying to learn the best way to even go about designing a piece, and what all the little do-dads are called. It’s way more complicated than I ever thought but then again I don’t think I ever thought that much about it.
Much respect to people who make this look easy.
I have to brag about this.
Last weekend I was a bridesmaid in Kristin and Lonnie’s wedding, where I accidentally ruined every picture by
making having a stupid face. Anyway, Kristin sent me home with my bouquet and a piece of hers. Sadly, the few hours the bouquets spent in the car in the scorching 100+-degree heat when I ducked in to Opry Mills pretty much sapped them of their ability to stand up and be pretty and quasi-alive in a vase. But they did start to have that delicious dried-flower smell on the drive home. I don’t know if Kristin picked the variety of flowers she picked with their decay qualities in mind, but I would not be surprised if she did; she is very clever.
Anyway, today I was trying to figure out what to do with my lovely, dying bouquets, and I couldn’t stop smelling them. But I had to dismantle them because my fat orange cat was making insane noises trying to get at them once he realized what they were. He is plant crazed. So I got one of my huge wine glasses (a gift from Ashley K many years ago) and set about plucking out bits of the bouquet and arranging the pieces in the glass.
There was enough foliage to do two but I knew that would be tempting cat fate, so I just did the one. I think it turned out really nicely.
Not too long after this picture was taken, Bones — the puppy who loves to be manhandled — got in a little love tussle and traipsed right through the blue paint and left a sweet little paw-print track on the hardwood floor, and was all like, “What? It’s art.”