The Creation of the Gate with the Bungee Cord Hinges

Time to tell another tale…. After several days of silence in the back yard, the action resumed today. As I was trying to find the top of the kitchen table, getting ready to leave for Cedarburg for my Tuesday class with Katherine de Shazar who guides my studies in the writing of icons, I was summoned to the front door by a man wearing his “Bear Builders” shirt. He introduced himself as Bill and said he was here to remove the back fence so the construction crew could have access. I was happy to direct him to the alley where we have a three-car parking slab behind our tall fence. Fortunately, our neighbor from across the alley, Mike, was in the back, too. We let him park his snow plow/jeep on the slab in exchange for keeping the slab plowed and tidy. He obligingly moved his jeep and Bill moved his large truck in. Then he discussed the overall plan with me.




All this went very well. In fact, when Bill found out about Hildegaard (our dachshund) he devised a clever plan to remove a section of fencing, but to re-attach it with bungee cords like an improvised gate. This means that I will be able to let Hildie out in the back yard when the workers are not there. This may not seem like much, but it really makes a great difference since the construction might take up to eight weeks. He told me that his wife is also an artist with work in the collections of the Smithsonian. Of course, I gave him a brochure about THE Fine Art Gallery and invited them to visit.



I would have taken a picture of the fence, but by the time I got home from icon class and we were done with supper and Hildie’s evening constitutional, it was already dark. Anyway, the fence itself is quite unremarkable in appearance and I'm sure it will be included in later photos.

I will now add another comment, indirectly related to the actual construction of the studio. We live on Milwaukee’s Lower East Side, an area of old Victorian houses standing close together on long, narrow lots for over one hundred years. Most of our homes have generous front porches and most of us have at least one dog or cat or child. We really live in our houses, in our yards, especially in the summer. Because of the porches, I think, we know one another very well. I am truly appreciative of our neighbors. For example, the people next door generously offered to help out with Hildie when construction is underway. She loves to sit out on their porch and enjoys the action and their loving companionship. We are all quite loyal to our neighborhood and I would find it very hard to leave. A few days ago, the woman three houses down brought us a bag of homegrown heirloom tomatoes which I made into a tasty salsa. I left a small loaf of banana-raisin bread in her door and yesterday she returned the pan with a jar of lavender lotion tucked inside—always a luxury when one’s hands are dried out from clay work. They are keeping track of the progress of the studio, as well. When it’s done, I am planning a neighborhood open house.