End of an era

Treasure Island Books is closing after 9 and a half years. All of the books are in boxes, the shelves are gone and the walls are bare. What an adventure it has been. We'll have the same number as always. We still do our own stunts. Call us sometime.

Black Diamond on Wheels

She said, "Honey, I need somewhere to put all my supplies when we do a craft show."

Using leftovers from previous projects taking up space in the garage, I had a sheet of quarter inch luan , extra paint, a two by six and scrap formica. All I needed was four casters and two sets of drawer guides. This is basically a box made as light as I could to load up for a show. The wheels make it easy to maneuver in and out of buildings for indoor shows.

"I like the shape and look of a ships' helm", she said. "I need signage and a design that is really noticable painted on it like black diamonds." These diamonds gave it a magical element. She laid out the lettering and I painted the ship.

"Can you make a money tray to fit inside a drawer," she said? "Can I make a tray, of course," said I. She is very happy with this cash wrap and my ideas.

Tilting at windmills

Like Don Quixote sometimes I feel like we're tilting at windmills. Starting an etsy shop was a dream for so long and now that it has happened it seems like a case of "hurry up and wait" for someone to find us in the hundreds and hundreds of shops. This polymer clay Don Quixote and Sancho may make their way to the etsy shop or they may just stay right here on my worktable to remind me that things are not always as they seem. I want to sculpt more characters from literature. Anybody have a suggestion?

Ghostly Barn

You can almost see the ghost of a farmer peering out the door of this beautiful old barn. We originally stopped because of the rock fence, but learned quickly that the fences make good hiding places for snakes and varmints. Sam's painting captures a part of the South that is quickly disappearing. Moving forward doesn't mean you shouldn't also look back.

Knoxville bridge

Remember that wonderful poem by Nikki Giovanni, Knoxville Tennessee? If not, here's a link:
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/knoxville-tennessee/. We visited this bridge with some family who live there and ate lunch at a restaurant on the water near the bridge. The poem is carved in stone in the waterfront park. Sam immortalized that day in a painting. Every picture is a poem. Every poem is a picture.

The summer of Chanticleer

Walking in the early early morning is the only way to exercise in a humid Tennessee summer. The park near our bookshop joins some neglected farmland complete with chickens and tumbledown barns. What a delight it's been on the hottest mornings to huff and puff up the hill and hear the first morning crow of a rooster we've named Chanticleer. At first the sound is faint then louder and bolder; he calls up the sun. It's August now and crape myrtles the color of raspberry ice cream flank the park entrance. Young runners who flew past as we walked the trails in June and July are back on the asphalt track in front of the high school. And Chanticleer? He's been uncharacteristically quiet these last mornings. I'd like to think he's on a well-earned vacation, but we're afraid he's gone on a dumpling cruise in somebody's stewpot.