Mein Temperament Vogel

My Temperament Bird

You will see why he is called Temperament Vogel



No words needed.

Now we're not sure.

My Father was a very fine woodcarver

http://ginaceramics.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-father-was-different.html

My Father believed that something simple is just as beautiful as something fine.

He carved the bird for my office so my clients could tell what kind of mood I was in.  I'm now retired but the bird still sits on my chamber door.

...For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

with such a name a "Nevermore"...

Edgar Allan Poe

Gina

 

My Father was different

My Father jogged barefoot in the freezing winters of East Prussia

This is my winter, not East Prussia

He exercised every day...even into his eighties

He spit-shined his shoes every day for four years while in a Prison Camp in Siberia

He was different.  Often,  I was teased by my classmates because my Father was different

My Father was an Artist...that explained many things...

My Father was a Master Woodcarver from the Old Country

My Father would practice discipline by not looking into shop windows...very odd

When I was about 8 years old my Father asked me to come into his studio.  Fastened to his workbench was a thick piece of Alder wood.  He instructed me on how to carve a bowl.  My older sister had been given the same instructions.  She did well.  I did not, I carved a hole into the bottom.  I was not invited again.

But my Father took me on many painting expeditions.  I could paint.

My Father signed all of his work.  Once they were completed I would sneak into his studio and with one of his chisels I would carve "my mark" in an inconspicuous place.

On his 80th birthday I fessed up to my misdeeds.  He first looked at me in disbelief and then he threw his head  back and he laughed and he laughed.

My Father taught me to be different, I like it that way.

Happy Father's Day Pappa

Gina

Rolly Polly

Rolly Polly Zucchini and my hand carved bowl

Many years ago my Father carved this solid walnut bowl for me.  My Father's carving was not smooth.  It shows every single chisel mark that he made.  It gives his pieces so much character.

One of these days I'm going to treat myself to a deep fried zucchini blossom

See the simple detail my Father carved into the rim of the bowl?  Isn't it absolutely perfect?

I showed up just in time as my Father was finishing my bowl.  Can you see the "handles" on the side of the bowl?  They are removed at the very last.  They are used to hold the carving in place.  It took me a while to convince my Pappa to leave the "handles".   I like them.  don't you?

Rolly Polly Zucchini are my most favorite Summer Squash.  Harvest them when they are about golf ball size.  Even when they are larger, they are still excellent.  Just saute them, cut up, in a little unsalted butter and olive oil.  Season simply with sea salt and a few turns of the pepper mill.

The perfect little Rolly Polly

My Father was a very fine Master Woodcarver from the Old  country.  When I was about 8 years old he asked me to come into his studio.  Fastened to the carving bench was a piece of very thick alder wood.  He instructed me on how to carve a bowl.  I carved and I carved ... until I had carved a hole through to the bottom.  I was not invited again. 

But my Father took me on many painting expeditions.

My Father signed all of his pieces.  Once they were finished I would sneak into his studio and with one of his chisels would carve "my mark" in an inconspicuous place.  On his 80th birthday I fessed up to my misdeeds.  He first looked at me in disbelief and then he threw his head back and he laughed and he laughed. 

Gina