One would think that with the addition of the new sign painted out front of our local health food store that I would actually have my portable grocery bags in hand. Right? Shamefully, wrong. It’s not that they are not in the car. They are. It’s that they are not in my hands. Why??

In light of the new energy pulsing through the nation, asking for more commitment to helping make a better place I took myself to task this week, creating space for some thoughtful reflection about why this is so. And the primary reason I could come up with was EGO. True story. My ego (long accustomed to being served in this small capacity) actually said to me, “I shop. I’m paying. Please put my purchases in a bag.” The illogic of this was the realization that no one is asking me to pack my groceries in a bag. I’m merely being asked to bring my own. So with this new awareness I decided to fully engage and explore my options, which turned out to be a fun thing to do! Who knew?

Advising some of the staff at the health food store what I was about, I brought my camera in and was actually very surprised at how very many options I had to carry home my groceries. Finding choices had me warming up to the idea of incorporating this practice. I’m sure many of you long ago started packing your bags with you, wisely eschewing both paper and plastic options, but for those of you who have not, let me share what I learned!

First a disclosure. I actually have some strong opinions about white portable grocery bags. [And to be honest, as I’m writing, I’m noticing I’m having an issue with what they are called. They are called bags. How un-fun! As a professional marketing person I think we have an opportunity here. I think they should be called something besides bags. Really. Suggestions?? For the moment I am going to be calling them Portable Shopping Bags, and that ain’t bad.] OK, back to the white bags. Who came up with white bags?? For something that is going to be lugged in and out and about in cars, garages, shops, etc. I just think white is completely impractical. Because then I’m thinking this is something I’m going to have to bleach, nothing I want to encourage. So white bags are out for moi.

Here was the first choice I found upon entering.

I’m not sure what these are actually made of, but they almost have a part paper feel, even though strong, and they were miraculously under one dollar. They would not be my first choice, but they must be popular for price alone.

Now, here are the rejected white ones, pretty as is the design.

It’s not hard to imagine people choosing these and replacing them as they deteriorate. It’s a step up from paper or plastic, no doubt.

Now having trashed the White Bag Concept I have to make an exception, as I then found these, which I am seriously considering investing in, though not for carting groceries, but as an alternative to small plastic bags into which I deposit, oh, say, celery or a few organic apples. So, produce. This would, in fact, appeal, if I could just imagine how the naked produce then gets checked out without being put on a scale or counter. Ideas? (You can see I’m a work in progress.)

Next up were bags I not only own, but have gifted to my daughter and a close friend as I love these. I do use them, frequently–just not for the purpose originally intended!

These kind of feel like oil cloth, though may be a kind of plastic. I’m not sure, but I love that they have a square piece in the bottom that keeps them open, thus allowing things to be stacked upright in the bottom. (I think one of my resistances to most Portable Shopping Bags is their impracticality where bottles and cartons are concerned.) The handles are strong and they are obviously the most colorful option I’ve found. So these are my local favs. Can you get these where you live? I hope so.

Now at the other end of the spectrum, and had I not specifically taken myself on this Bag Adventure I am confident would never have noticed these, someone on staff pointed out these ChicoBags, which are decent-sized nylon bags contained within teeny tiny bags which are literally attached to the bag at the bottom. So you just pull out when you need them. And the rest of the time they can live in your purse or car!

Probably the most aesthetic bags in the store were these wonderful bags made in Africa. You probably own one or two of these, right?

My Maine Coon cat Luna sleeps in one I bought for her years ago, so they are very lasting, I can assure you!

I must say, however, when all is said and done, my very favorite portable shopping bags remain the bags I learned to shop with when I lived in Mexico and went to the open market for my food. I have one old rather funky one I currently use to place all plastic bags that make it inside my house, that I do religiously recycle. And then I have a more modern version, which I would not be one bit surprised to hear you are familar with as someone decided to capitalize on Frida Kahlo’s image by placing her face on the sides of an old traditional standby in Mexico. Am I right?

Writing this post has caused me to pause and figure out why I prefer the old red one. I see now that it’s because the traditional design encorporates the understanding that groceries well tended often need a flat surface on which to reside in transit home, not unlike my favorite bag above. The Frida Kahlo version is simply flat, rendering it far less useful. I think I will trade out these functions and use Frida for plastic bag recycling and place the old favorite red one in my car. Bet I use it.

I would be remiss if I did not share that my fondness for the old red practical bag is built on a very nostalgic and endearing memory of staying for two weeks out in the smallest of Mexican villages along the Pacific Coast. A village so small and remote it had only one electric light. Period. Dirt floored huts, where I slept. Dirt paths, where I walked. One afternoon I felt honored to be invited by the local women to join them on the beach where they taught me how to use one of these very bags to catch our dinner. They showed me how to hold the bag into each successive wave that crashed upon the beach, followed immediately by a scooping motion that left sand and small shellfish captured in the bottom of the bag. As the bags were porous, the sand would wash away, leaving behind the fresh shellfish. Aw, now that’s a way to bring dinner home in a bag, my dears. Yes, it is.

Love and household blessings,
Kathryn xoxoo

Posted on January 24th, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: People at Work | 30 Comments »

Grace Hudson, self-portrait, painted at age 16, Grace Hudson Museum

The flowers on the dress Grace Hudson (1865-1937) is wearing are a clue. She would become recognized as an exceptionally popular artist in her time whose passions included painting local landscapes, local indigenous peoples and animals. She came by this naturally. Her father, A.O. Carpenter, was a well known and respected photographer who recorded early landscapes and pioneers of Mendocino County, and her mother, Helen, was an artist in her own right, illustrated by the two lovely pieces below, now housed in The Sun House, Grace Hudson’s family home, a registered California Historical site.

Painting by Helen Carpenter, Grace Hudson’s mother

Handpainted china by Helen Carpenter, Grace Hudson’s mother

Grace Carpenter, a twin, was born in a humble one-room cabin in 1865 in Potter Valley in Mendocino County. Her talents were recognized and encouraged by her artistic parents early on. At age fifteen, she was sent alone to San Francisco to attend San Francisco School of Design where she would excel. Completing her studies, she returned to Mendocino County and remained with her parents until she met and married John Hudson, a young physician from Tennessee, whose developing love of Indian studies Grace shared. Indeed, Grace Hudson would go on to paint over 600 paintings of the Pomo Indians who inhabited Mendocino County at the time, establishing herself as one of the first female artists to be recognized among Western artists. In 1893 her painting, “Little Mendocino” went on exhibit at the World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago where it created a sensation and received a certificate of honorable mention. Her competitors included works by Mary Cassatt and Rosa Bonheur.

The success of this painting put Grace squarely on the radar of collectors and galleries in San Francisco. She began to paint on commission. By the end of 1894 Grace was a nationally known and admired painter. She received major national media attention and her career was firmly secured.

The Watermelon

The dog in this endearing painting looks suspiciously like a McNab (closely related to the Border Collie) and as the McNab was bred first in Mendocino County on McNab Ranch, I have to wonder. Dogs appear frequently, however, with Grace’s renditions of Pomo children. This might be construed as contrived, but, point of fact, the Pomo Indians had a very high regard for their dogs.

Baby Bunting

The Pomo Indians that Grace painted she knew and loved and admired. Said Grace, “My desire is that the world shall know them as I know them, and before they vanish.”

The Seed Conjurer

Powley: Young Man Hoeing Corn

There is an attending story about the above painting. Apparently Grace painted a Pomo woman and named the painting, “Powley’s Sweetheart.” When she was asked repeatedly, “Who is Powley?” she subsequently painted the man himself to answer their question.

My awareness of Grace Hudson’s work began, synchronistically or ironically, when I planted my first garden in Mendocino upon returning to California after a four year quest exploring living first in the South followed by two years in the Arizona desert, outside Scottsdale. In digging up the earth for my first seed planting I “happened to” unearth two Indian tools. I was surprised and excited. And for some reason I put them in a zippered pocket in my purse and then promptly forgot they were there.

Later in the spring I decided to visit the Grace Hudson Museum which a friend had told me about and the Sunday I decided to make that journey it so happened that the staff was sponsoring a day in which one could bring indigenous artifacts to be evaluated by an expert. I sat in utter (very quiet) fascination as people revealed paintings and objects they had brought for evaluation. It took me a full hour at least to recall that I had the Pomo tools I had found in my garden with me in my purse. Very shyly I finally brought them forth, and was told they were practical tools the Indians used in their daily creative activities, one being a scraping tool, and the other looking more like an arrowhead.

I remember feeling excited. However subsequently I was quietly informed by a woman I met who is of Pomo descent, “I have never found a single thing.” The impact of the find descended on me and I felt profoundly humbled and honored. I also felt obliged to pay attention and I have ever since. One entry point into this exploration is the blessing of Sun House and the adjacent museum showcasing Grace Hudson’s life and work. Here is the Sun House.

I find myself wondering if people actually came and left by the front door. If one takes a docent tour one is always ushered through the patio door, on the side of the house, and this feels like a more likely entry.

I’m going to show you another photo of this side of the house, as I want you to get the feel of this property from this perspective, influenced largely by this redwood tree which stands just in front.

Indeed, Grace was deeply insightful in planting beloved redwoods all along the front entryway to the property, which we now enjoy. Thank you, Grace.

The hand of the artist reigned at Sun House. This firepit and the arbor and sundial below all speak to her domestic creativity.

Firepit

Arbor which will be awash in trumpet vine and wisteria come spring

Old sundial

On the far side of the house I found this enchanting door ringer.

This door ringer is actually afixed to the door that gives entry into Grace’s studio, a large room with a bank of tall windows, with a stained glass window on one end.

In the opposite end of the room still stands the easel Grace used in her work.

Just beneath her chair is a rug she designed and had executed, showing her obvious passion for beautiful plants, which we all share. A second similar rug, very pretty, is in an adjacent living room.

Lapping up her creative endeavors it is no large stretch to imagine that her life and work are now housed on this same property in the Grace Hudson Museum. Cheers to those who recognized and valued her work and continue to showcase it, as well as other artists’ work in the area.

As I parted today, filled up with my renewed appreciation for Grace’s work and what she left behind a spot of color caught my appreciative winter eye.

Grace would be pleased.

With love and great gratitude for all artists everywhere,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on January 10th, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: Field Trips | 20 Comments »