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New Year, Old Puzzles

Jan3

Here’s the long-awaited report on the century old puzzle, Ready for the Dance. As near as we can figure, these puzzles belonged originally to our great-grandmother Samuella White. The date on this one is 12-10-25. I love how the handwritten label indicates it was sawn by ‘2’. I can’t make out the initials of the person who polished and finished it, but I’m gonna guess it was a woman.

Melinda said there were around sixteen of these old puzzles when they cleared out their father’s house. Each piece of this puzzle was marked ’15’ on the back in pencil, in Samuella’s hand. Imagine her taking the time to mark every piece, in order to prevent confusion among possible stray pieces from other puzzles getting mixed up in various boxes. The lids had no pictures in those days, no point of reference, which adds a completely different element to assembly.

Naturally, the whimsy pieces are not nearly as intricate, being cut by hand, as the modern Liberty puzzles are able to do with a laser. But there are still plenty of them, and they provide a helpful anchor for starting to assemble sections.

This particular puzzle was made easier by all the faces and figures it contained, as well as wood grain patterns in the floor, and the ceiling and furniture as they emerged.

A later hand noted on the box that two pieces were missing, possibly Granny but probably Aunt Nelle. I noticed a twinge of envy when Melinda told me that she and her brothers got to play with these puzzles when they were kids, “but only when we were sick.” So what! She still got to play with them! I missed out on an important piece of my rightful childhood by being the child of the son and not the daughter: I didn’t find the one puzzle my dad inherited until after his death.

My resentment is tongue in cheek, of course. I just like to tease my cousin. But every time I couldn’t find a piece for awhile, I wondered, Is THIS the missing piece? This uncertainty also added a novel element to the assembly. Once I had most of the faces in place, I began to have confidence that the missing pieces were the face and bosom of the lovely lady the man below is leering at so enthusiastically. I immediately conjured a story in which one of Mel’s nasty brothers pocketed the fair maiden. This provided endless laughs at myself as I completed the puzzle, and accused them to their sister.

I had imagined that Liberty invented the tiny-connection strategy, but with this puzzle I could see that it’s an age-old jigsaw puzzle trick. The merest tips of two pieces can provide the link.

Another thing I love about this puzzle is the image itself. Though old and faded, it remains full of vitality and action, with genuine connection in the expressions among the dancers. Unfortunately, there’s no attribution to the artist other than a faded signature in the bottom right corner. I suspect the images were created specifically for the puzzle company in those early days.

And here’s the completed puzzle, minus the missing maiden. A few spots where the image has peeled from the wooden pieces, but otherwise in remarkably good shape, despite the manhandling of my young cousins fifty years ago. Another thing about these hands-sawn puzzles is that though the pieces fit together well, they don’t ‘hold together’ well. I could see the sawyer’s strategy in following the shapes of hats, heads, and bodies, and even cutting the puzzle into rough sections before further delineating each piece. The puzzle breaks like a golf putt along certain lines. Time after time I jostled the edge with an elbow, or Topaz jumped up on it, and the whole thing broke apart. Fortunately, it was easy to slide together again.

I’m grateful for a new year and old puzzles, and for catching up with my gratitude blog. This all happened last week, and I’ve since finished the second ancestral puzzle, more about that soon. Meanwhile, last Thursday Wren saw the vet for a followup on her eye, and got a clean bill of health: no scratches, no lesions, just her usual watery eye. We stopped at the new ice cream arcade in Hotchkiss on the way home, to reward ourselves for a good job. I’m also grateful for this new business that brightens the downtown, and serves locally made, delicious ice cream. I chose Cowboy Coffee, and Wren got the tip of the cone.

Christmas Day

Dec25

Darn internets still broken up, so just a quick picture tonight to say I’m grateful for thoughtful gifts of all kinds, from this ancestral jigsaw puzzle to homemade granola to maple syrup to meaningful conversations, with lots in between. I’m grateful for community, friendship, cousins, safety, health, and lights in winter. Wishing you all to find gratitude everywhere you can.

Picasso’s Studio

Dec20
A peaceful morning coffee with potica and Salman Rushdie’s latest novel… Followed by a day with ample free time to finish the puzzle. This was actually yesterday, but nothing wrong with being grateful for yesterday. I’m grateful for today, too.
I worked the floor first, and the rest of the more colorful parts in random segments, which left the hard blue part for the end. I was a little sad to complete it while there was still an hour of jazz on the radio, but resigned myself to moving on to the next thing. Before I did, I decided to slide the puzzle up to the center of the board to get a better picture of it…

My strategy with Picasso’s Studio as I sorted pieces out of the box was to put all the mostly grey pieces in one corner, all the largely white pieces above them, and all the rest above that. I’ve started lining up all the flat edge pieces along the edge of the puzzle table and it’s more efficient than sticking them up in the top right corner as I used to do. I continue to arrange the whimsy pieces along the right side of the table, bottom to top according to genre from geometric to objects to human figures to land animals to flying creatures. And so I began to assemble this one on Sunday morning, and finished it yesterday.

One of the joys of these puzzles is finding the most improbable connections from the most subtle clues, like placing the swirling cloud over the window with just the hint of a brushstroke.
As I attempted to slide the finished puzzle it caught on the felt and buckled… puzzletastrophe!
I was able to salvage most of the assemblage with some gentle shifting. Only two pieces landed on the floor, and it wasn’t too hard to put the puzzle together again. I was grateful to get to spend some more time on it while my friends on KVNF were giving their blues show over to a rare jazz theme, including Vince Guaraldi’s pivotal album ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas.’

And then, about the time the jazz ran out, this gorgeous puzzle from a Damian Elwes painting was finished. Liberty has six artists’ studio puzzles from Elwes, and this is the fifth to join our scattered communal puzzle library after Matisse, Gauguin, Monet, and Frida Kahlo’s. They’re all as scrumptious as this one. I’m grateful to Cindy for breaking the blue barrier and buying it: Sarah and I had qualms about all that blue, but that turned out to be, on my part anyway, an unnecessary bias. This was so lovely to do. The sixth studio puzzle is Basquiat’s, which is brand new and doesn’t appeal to me at the moment. Perhaps my perspective will shift someday about that puzzle also.

Meanwhile, here are some details from Picasso’s Studio, just because they are so delightful, not even considering the whimsy pieces that make them up. You might be able to make out in this image a pair of eyes, one above the easel and one above the white table. This is a hidden layer in the puzzle, a portrait of Picasso himself revealed more clearly on the back side of the puzzle. Another stroke of genius from the Liberty Puzzlemaster.

And finally, as I began to disassemble the puzzle this afternoon, I noticed yet another precious combination of whimsy pieces, which had escaped me as they came together on the board: the guy riding a bike with a cat on the back. I’m grateful for Picasso’s Studio.

Healing

Dec18

For all the Wren fans out there, I’m grateful to report that her poor little brown eye seems to be healing; she has had it half open for most of the day, though it’s still a bit weepy. I feel optimistic. Thanks for your care and concern.

Tamarind caramel baked on top of shortbread base

I was grateful today to finally have all I needed to make this tamarind millionaire’s shortbread. I’ve had all the ingredients for weeks, but a few years ago I relegated my ancestral 8″x8″ baking pan to garden duty because I rarely used it: I had to break down and buy a new one for this recipe, and the several others I’ve not made, because I have no pan that comes close to an area of 64 square inches. Adapting recipe measurements for a different size pan on top of altitude is too confusing.

The base is a flour-coconut-butter dough baked for awhile while you make the tamarind caramel. Pour that on top and bake some more, and once the bake has cooled, melt butter with dark chocolate and smooth overtop. Then it has to chill for the chocolate to set, and oh boy oh boy oh boy, then it’s time to enjoy!

The puzzle continues apace, and a hint to the title lies in the image above. A few hints actually. Any guesses? Like all the Liberty puzzles, it’s very fulfilling.

Oatmeal

Dec3
The precious clippers and the dozens of other adorable whimsy pieces made this, like all Liberty puzzles, a delight to assemble.

I’m grateful for this lovely puzzle that brightened the past three dark and snowy days, Indoor Summer Garden by Jenny Wheatley.

I’ve never been an oatmeal-for-breakfast person, but in my quest to eat more healthfully I decided a month ago that I’d try again, and I began to imagine a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and maple syrup. Then I started looking for the oats that I was sure were in the cupboard or pantry somewhere. Not to be hasty, I opted to keep looking for my oats rather than surrender to purchasing another canister. So I double and triple checked the cupboards, and over a couple of weeks in several installments sorted and culled the pantry. Still couldn’t find the oats, so I bought a new bag of Bob’s Red Mill organic oats. Finally I could live the dream! And honestly, it’s been every bit as satisfying as I imagined it would be. I add a tablespoon of protein powder and a teaspoon of maple syrup, and feel ever so virtuous eating oats instead of croissants for breakfast. I’m grateful for oatmeal.

Snowy Saturday

Dec2
I am NOT violating Puzzle Rule #1: The coffee only appears to be above the puzzle, I would never hold a beverage over a Liberty puzzle.

A quiet, snowy Saturday, sleeping late and enjoying a latté and a puzzle: I couldn’t be more grateful for these delights, and I know that it is only through the grace of my birth and the conditions that led to this moment that it is what it is. I did nearly nothing of importance today, just relaxed and enjoyed the simple pleasures of food, water, shelter, and space: the essential ingredients of any animal life.

Deconstructed cheese sandwich: smoked gouda melting on sourdough toast, avocado mayo, and a tiny fresh tomato from the sunroom vine. Wasn’t sure the proportions would work out if I spread them all on the toast at once, so I added flavors bite by bite. Because I’m grateful to have the time and ease to be able to do so.
After lunch, Wren naps in my lap.

Come ON! How fantastic is this? Garden clippers that actually ‘clip’! So grateful for the genius of the Liberty Puzzle puzzle master.

Just before dark we went for a walk. Wren was sneezing when she came back from this romp, and I thought she might have gotten a grass seed up her nose. She seemed to have sneezed it out by the time she got back to me so I didn’t worry about it. Playing this back frame by frame I could note the moment she did get a seed up her nose, and see it still sticking out at the moment the video ends. Clearly she got it out because she quit sneezing and has been fine ever since. It was so long that I’d have noticed if she hadn’t relieved herself of it. Super grateful for that!

For supper, just a snack of miso-maple toasted walnuts. So simple, so delicious. Grateful to watch the finale of the 2023 Great British Baking Show, and inspired, though I’m trying to quit.

No-Buy November

Dec1

I’m grateful for the first real snow of the season, which started last night and has continued throughout the day. We woke to a couple of inches this morning, and at bedtime tonight it’s up to five or six. So it’s been slow and easy all day. The first snow of the year always reminds me of Conrad Aiken’s short story “Silent Snow, Secret Snow,” and brings that muffled sense of peace and isolation he captured so intimately. Wren knows nothing about that story, dwelling in the moment with a snowball on the deck. Seconds after we came inside a snow shelf slid off the roof that would have buried her.

Any money I saved (and there was plenty) by not buying things I don’t need with money I don’t have was instantly offset by the new starter for the Honda. Otherwise, No-Buy November was a smashing success. I’m grateful for the mindful practice of not being a consumer for most of last month, except of groceries and an essential car repair. It’s reset my spendometer to zero and I intend to creep along at a much slower pace going forward. In fact, I’m planning on a Junk-free January, where not only do I not buy anything I don’t need including junk food, but I’ll work hard on getting rid of things I don’t need or that don’t spark joy.

Obviously, because of the joy they spark and the mental exercise, I won’t be relinquishing any Liberty puzzles. I’m grateful to have a couple of new puzzles from our Maryland satellite library, and started a lovely one today after wrapping up the week’s work.

There’s a floral theme, and I started with the easy part, the garden stool. I love, as usual, how the pieces align with the image, as in the bird piece above landing on the bird image. Another trick in this puzzle which is rare in these masterpieces, is at least one piece that fits where it doesn’t belong. I’ve seen this a few times, and know it’s an intentional mind game from the puzzle master, which adds to the delight.

Wrong piece above, and right piece below.

I’m grateful for the luxury of having more than I need, and the wisdom to recognize it. I’m grateful for the lessons of No-Buy November and the motivation to pare down and simplify.

Heartbreak

Sep28
Where’s Wren? She’s fine, enjoying the fall colors in the canyon. The title has nothing to do with Wren.

Yesterday I stopped to visit an old friend I had not seen since before the pandemic began. Besides the risk of contagion there were a couple of other reasons I hadn’t seen her for so long, but as soon as I sat down with her I regretted my long absence. “It’s so wonderful to see you!” she exclaimed. “I love you so much!”

“Your face is so beautiful,” she went on. She patted her forehead, “Your head, with the beautiful mind, and your eyes, and your beautiful mouth! To make words!” as she rubbed her fingers around her lips. I laughed and said, “It’s wonderful to see you, too, and I love you so much.”

“We’ve been friends for a very long time,” she said, “since we were just little girls,” and she held her hands child-high above the deck where we sat. “It’s been a long time, for sure,” I said, “maybe not as long as all that.” I reminded her how and when we had met.

“It’s so wonderful to see you!” she exclaimed. “I love you so much!” I echoed her words back to her. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, “your hair, and your earrings look so good on your ears, and your pretty hat.” My heart was breaking. I moved my chair around to sit next to her and held her hand. She had quite the strong grip for someone over ninety, though she had moved ponderously and seemed quite frail when she stepped outside to sit with me.

The propane truck arrived just then to fill the house tank, with its engine and pump cacophony, and so we sat quietly, taking in the fall colors in the trees and shrubs around us, smiling at one another and making occasional hand signs and mouthing “I love you,” until they were done and left. Quiet thundered down.

“God bless us and keep us safe from all harm, in Jesus’ name, Amen,” she said. In thirty years I had never once heard her pray. “It’s so wonderful to see you! You look lovely. We’ve been friends for such a long time, since we were just little girls, and here we still are. We took to each other right away.”

That was true. “Like ducks to water,” I said, and she laughed.

“We’ve been friends for ever so long,” she said, “and look at us now, still friends!”

“Yes,” I said, “two little old ladies sitting on the porch, still friends after all these years,” and she said, “Will we be friends forever?”

“We’ll be friends forever,” I said. “We’ll be friends in the next life too, and I’m sure we were in our past lives.” She laughed again. It felt so good to make her laugh. The Alzheimers that began attacking her beautiful mind so many years ago had advanced dramatically since the last time I’d seen her. Though I’d called every month or so for the past few years, I had not seen the change, and the conversations had followed the same repetitive pattern though with a different theme: How are you, what have you been up to, how are you, what have you been doing, how are you… Her seeing me in person added a new element. Each time she told me how beautiful I am and how much she loves me, my heart cracked open a little bit more.

I sat with her for about half an hour and could tell when she closed one eye that she was beginning to tire, so I tapped on the door and her partner came out to help her back inside. I told them I’ll come back next week. “You promise?” she said. “I promise.”

“God bless us and keep us safe from all harm, in Jesus’ name, Amen,” she said as I left. I’m grateful for the heartbreak that made me softer.

I was grateful for the serene beauty along the road home, and the quiet time it afforded me to metabolize the emotions moving through me. I was grateful to return home and find the internet still out, and grateful it remained out until after I went to bed. None of my usual entertainments (read, ‘distractions’) were available to me, and so I nursed the heartbreak quietly, letting it soften more and more the hard edges of my prolonged voluntary solitude.

Into the softness of the heartbreak I let flow the joy of finishing the puzzle. Another pair of dancers, as my friend had danced the last time before this that I’d seen her. The precious tiny star in the dancer’s hand, and the simple pleasure of spotting the piece that fit it across the board and knowing exactly where it went.

That moment that comes late in almost every puzzle, where you’re sure, you are certain, there’s a piece missing because you’ve looked all over for it — and then, suddenly, it’s right in front of you and has been all along.

And then that sense that there’s not enough room for all the pieces you have left, especially the big groups — where can they possibly fit?

And then you find where they go, and the rest of the pieces flow into place smoothly one right after another…

… and then the puzzle is complete, put back together, and so is your heart.

Canoe of Fate

Sep25

Aren’t we all paddling along in a canoe of fate? I don’t know. But I’m grateful for this puzzle, from a painting by mid-20th century American painter Roy de Forest. I hadn’t heard of him, but was charmed by the image and chose it as my puzzle for this season.

The brick pattern was the easiest to distinguish and assemble, and these were the first few pieces I put together: charming. Using Seymour’s rules I only looked at the lid once (for a long time) before beginning the puzzle, so I knew that this was part of the lower left edge.

Like the image itself, the pieces are extra whimsical. I haven’t found the head of the Yeti in the lower right (above), nor fit in the unicorn, but worked on the canoe which is the centerpiece… and soon had a good start.

Where once the whimsy pieces were all a single cut, the latest Liberty puzzles have evolved so that many, like the faun and the buck above, and the mystery shape below, are comprised of multiple pieces.

I’m grateful for a worthwhile day’s work, followed by a late afternoon starting the puzzle, and an evening stroll with my little pets.

One of my favorite views any time of year, but especially in autumn. Aspens on Mendicant Ridge just started turning this past week. “Who am I,” I still wonder, “and how did I come to be here?”
Topaz blends in beautifully with the autumn colors on the trail.
Where’s Wren?

Back at the house after an evening meeting, I resumed play on the puzzle, finding the missing tails of the dragon and griffon. With the peaceful accompaniment of Radio Swiss Jazz, I puzzled into the night, resting my emotions and thoughts in the meditative attention to the lovely challenge before me. I thought of Favorite Auntie, who introduced me to these wooden jigsaw puzzles a decade ago, and felt myself back in her house in Kilmarnock, and later her apartment in DC, sitting in loving companionship across the green felt on her card table, puzzling. She would have loved this one. Magic.

Mar13
I’m grateful for the first crocuses blooming!

This evening I got my first ever social media hate, on one of my instagram posts in support of a drag queen. It heightened my compassion. I’m grateful for the practice that allowed me to receive it with some equanimity, even though it felt like a slap in the face. And grateful that I didn’t feel compelled to respond to it. I imagined a potential spiral of consequences, if only as simple as another hateful reply back. I contemplated responding with something like, “I feel compassion for your suffering,” but concluded the wise choice was to forget about it. I just noticed it a few minutes ago–it wasn’t remotely how I intended to start this post. So I’m gonna forget about it now!

I’m grateful for waking up alive on this snowy, drizzly Sunday, for a few hours of sunlight, for the first spring bulb tips poking out of the mud, and for the leisure to enjoy listening to some dharma talks while finishing this exquisite Liberty puzzle, Monet’s Studio at Giverny. I’m grateful to our little puzzle club scattered coast to coast for increasing our puzzle options each season. This one only took two days of joyful puzzling between cleaning, baking, reading, and sharing meaningful conversations with friends and family.

It was kind of a rough week inside my monkey mind. I’m so grateful for all the beauty and love in my life, for the support of friends, and for the growing capacity I’m gaining to turn my attention to these gifts, instead of letting meager thoughts depress me for long.

The first night’s progress…
Last night’s progress…

And finally, I’m forever grateful to neighbor Mary for sharing this extraordinary recipe for Big Soft Ginger Cookies. This is the basic recipe, though I make them with Mary’s tweaks, including half brown sugar-half white, and of course butter instead of margarine. I also toss in a few chocolate chips. So simple, so delicious. It’s the kind of treat that fills up your senses so full you can’t be anything but ecstatic while it’s in your mouth.