sprig to twig

The Linnton Condominiums had flag poles across the roof line, left over from the days when it was a schoolhouse. When Ellie bought two Spinnakers from me to put in her front planter, she feared that the condo association would ask her to remove them for the sake of consistency. Instead, they decided to utilize the abandoned flag poles to express themselves in some way. There are pirate flags, Canadian flags…you name it. Ellie and Brad decided to commission me to design theirs. The fine old building looks out over the river toward the sunrise, and I know Ellie is fond of Color with a capital C, so I took that as my theme. Here it is, caught in motion, and below is a shot I took of it tacked up on my deck to show the full design.

I sent a banner to my cousin Shirley for Christmas. She writes, “During these stark days in the garden it’s so fun to see the bright colors and the gentle movement where everything else is dormant. Soon all the bulbs I have planted will begin to brighten the landscape. The additional high colors of the banner will be a focal point among my daffodils and primroses.”

So many folks think of the banners as strictly summertime indulgences, but it is the dark days of winter when I enjoy them the most.

An evergreen clematis is threatening to engulf the front deck. It must be a cousin to the triffid. When spring comes and it explodes with fragrant white blossoms, it is a sight to behold. Now I have found another reason to forgive its aggressive campaign to take over ever more territory. I glanced up while doing KP duty: a slight breeze was stirring the leaves, the light was just right, and I snapped this shot. Wish it was a video clip, so you could experience the kinetic effect. Sorry, but my web skills have yet to reach that level of sophistication. I think you can extrapolate, though, and appreciate my delight at having nature interacting with one of my pennants in such a delightful way.

Walking down the street in McMinnville about dinner time, what should I see but one of my Spinnakers! It was marking the entrance to a shop on Main Street. I remember selling it at Carlton’s Walk in the Park in August of ‘06. As we passed by, the shopkeeper came out to take it in for the night. My companion remarked “What a great banner!” Couldn’t have planned it better if I’d hired an ad agency.

A couple came into the studio the other day talking about “feather flags”. They were planning their wedding to take place at the beach, and wanted to know if I would consider renting them some feather flags for the affair. They were young, and charming, and starting out on a shoestring. I wanted to help them out, and have always thought my banners would be great for weddings (remember the final scene in The Forty-Year-Old Virgin?). But, alas, I had no “feather flags”. Turns out they were referring to what I call Spinnakers, and yes, I can see how one could look at them and think “feathers”.
It isn’t the first time someone has suggested renting a suite of banners, but I haven’t quite figured out how that might work. We parted, all agreeing to think on it. I got zero response to a mailing targeting party planners, so I guess I would have to do it myself. The logistics seem daunting, but I am certainly open to the concept. Any ideas?

When I first started making the pot flags, I regarded them as an impulse buy, to lure in potential buyers with a lower-priced item. I bought one of the new sun-friendly coleus to put in a big pot on the porch. It was a lovely acid-green, with subtle shades of orange around the margins. Each day, I would stick a few pot flags around the peremiter of the pot, to show how flags can substitute for flowers when blossoms are in short supply. As the summer progressed, the coleus grew more luscious by the day, but eventually became top-heavy and wanted to flop. The utilitarian role of the pot flags became apparent: they would prop up the sagging coleus in addition to their showier duties.

I didn’t realize, when taking the above picture, that it was the perfect moment. See how the lavender-blue triangles on the banner pick up exactly the color of the ceanothus in the foreground? The splash of white from the iris on the left balances the frame holding the banner. Wish I could say this was all perfectly planned. I didn’t even fully realize what I had, and rashly trashed the original shot once I had shrunk it to the size you see here. Now I am wishing I had saved it, because the whole scene has changed and I can’t retrace my steps.

I keep learning this lesson the hard way: keep that camera handy and do not let the special moments go unrecorded. Even the next day, the light will be different, the flower will have passed its peak, the shot will be lost. It lives on in memory, of course…and perhaps gains in glory by having escaped capture.

Is that not a lovely word? A friend came to visit and buy a couple of banners last week. Her husband is avidly into sailing, so I was describing the sound made by the banners I call Spinnakers. She said “Oh, that’s called luffing.” I will not be changing my description, because I think whup whup captures the actual sound for those of us who don’t know the lingo, but I sure do like adding this new word to my itty bitty sailing vocabulary. The only other word in there is yar, which I learned from the movie High Society with Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby.