Two times a month, for a break in the tension of the world and Oakmont politics, I tote my stuff to the Ikebana class I started here. I initiated it at the request of others, but like so often got hooked myself. Its a time when I can forget about Trump, Iran, pickleball versus tennis fighting, etc. Also, two local elderlies (80ies and 90ies) got hit on the sidewalk last Thursday by another resident, 76, driving a lexus. She was coming out of the market at 1:10 having just bought a bottle of wine. The police arrested her for inebriation. So sad. One victim may not live. So flower arranging offers a quiet repose from the clutter and trauma of daily life. Last Thursday we were supposed to use kitchen objects for an arrangement. I chose three tea pots. Two were inherited from my mother in law, Juanetta. The Chinese tea pot was a gift to her, I think, from an Oakland Chinese family whose first born son she nursed back to life during the depression.
The most interesting is the smallest one, which has a weathered patina surface, and says on the bottom, "stolen from Mitchells cafeteria." The copper tea kettle I bought from an estate sale here for $4.
At the end of the class the teacher, a handsome hearty caucasian man, Ronn, critiques each arrangement. He generally pulls all the flowers out and says what is wrong, before rearranging them. Mine are ALWAYS wrong, but somehow I don't fret, because the whole experience of sitting in the quiet with the flowers is so soothing. The pictures shown are of my three arrangements before he redid them.