Crazy Stable

Allow me to introduce you to a few of the Very Important Ornaments on the CrazyStable Christmas Tree. At left, the Skater Ball. This is the earliest ornament I can remember; it is probably older than I am (no cracks, please). The color is that of a blood-streaked egg yolk, which may account for why Cookie Monster is staring at it. This ball is my "Rosebud," my "Caddie, caddie," my madeleine. The sight of it every year transports me back to a time of absolute trust and dependence.

 
This is one of the Package Trim Angels (with a Fat Cat of recent acquisition lurking behind her). Back in the ancient times of my childhood, these were sold for about a dime, to embellish a bow; the wings are a delicate mesh stretched over wires, the harp is cardboard, and the whole affair is affixed to a pipe cleaner. Several of these little girls survived thanks to my mother's obsessional conservation instincts. They are goofy and dainty, and I love them because they managed to surmount their destiny as ephemera.

Ah, but nothing rocks my world every Christmas like tenderly unwrapping and hanging the Sparkly Little Houses. When I was little, I would stare at them in their pine groves lit by blinking colored lights, and my imagination would transform them into fabulous elfin castles in a forest kingdom.

Each year, when I lift the little houses out of tissue paper twists, their glitter looks a bit more sparse, and the glue on the pasteboard seams shows more clearly—and I love them even more. Like our actual house, they must look shabby and inconsequential to the casual observer.  Only the eyes of love can invest them with magic and loveliness.

And that is what I wish all my friends, family, and online neighbors this year: lives full of love, the kind of love that can renew enchantment and rekindle light in a world of cynicism and darkness. Best wishes and prayers for 2009.

So I step outside the house as the first snowstorm of the year hits Flatbush, and all hell is breaking loose in the street right in front of my next-door neighbor's house. A convoy of vehicles has swept in to plant street trees! The Bobcat digger here arrived on a flatbed truck; another truck bore a clutch of balled-and-burlapped trees; and the green dumpster down the street awaited the excavated shovelfuls of earth.

It was a blitzkrieg, all over in about 20 minutes after much shouting, gesticulating, and back-up beeping. A similar guerilla tree planting took place down the street last week; neighbors were stunned to discover a new tree sitting in a fresh surgical incision in their median strip. At right, a guy from the landscaping truck with the support poles for the sapling. Several of the Bobcats were zooming around, two heading for the next street over; it reminded me of a busy day on the ice planet Hoth.

The Bobcat lowered the rootball into place, and just one fellow maneuvered it into the hole.  I asked a superviser with a clipboard what species it was; she checked and I believe said it was a zelkova. The Japanese Zelkova (Zelkova serrata), according to the Arbor Day Foundation, is "a handsome tree with showy fall color, attractive exfoliating bark, and a symmetrical, vase-shaped growth habit. It makes a good street tree because of its dense shade, ability to grow in marginal soils and resistance to pests and pollution." (Yeah, we got those.) Our neighbors were told they got a honey locust, so at least we're not being locked into a monoculture of those blasted Callery pears.

I couldn't stick around long enough to see them fill in the hole, but when I returned later, the little tree was propped between its supports as if it had been there all its life. The funny thing is that several dedicated members of our block association have been bugging the city bureacracy for new trees for years...and now, just before Christmas, they arrive without warning!

Twas the week before Solstice, and all through the house...oh, never mind. This is precisely the week when my Christmas Fantasy of Homemade Gifts turns into my Christmas Panic of Reality...no, I have not sewn a million adorable sachets and catnip mice, or made a passle of delicately glitter-dusted star-book ornaments, or even baked a bunch of long-keeping spice cookies.

I have made one rocking calendar of Prospect Park, however, (that's February's shot, left), and there's still time to order some for those novelty-starved urbanites on your list! Or you could buy them "live" (no shipping cost!) tomorrow, Dec. 14, at the St. Boniface Christmas Fair, being held in the auditorium of St. Joseph High School in downtown Brooklyn, on Willoughby Street and Bridge Street from 9 a.m. to about 3 p.m. (a five-minute walk from the DeKalb Avenue station).  There will be other nifty vendors, including fair-trade exotic crafts, antiques, and the famous Oratorian Vegetarian Chili for a warming lunch.

And for more cool hand-made stuff, check out my Sickeningly Talented Pals, who are also showing and selling tomorrow (which should be declared Creative Gift-Shopping Sunday):

Karen Friedland has a home studio sale of her luminous paintings at 190 Marlborough Road (Q train, Beverly Road station). She has a new line of "magical minis" that sound intriguing (and affordable).

Rhea Kirstein, a watercolorist who is gaining a lot of admirers for her luscious and sensual canvases (like these fantastical fruits, below) is also welcoming collectors, in tandem with jewelry designer Sam Tomasello, who creates treasure-laden necklaces, pendants and more. Rhea and Sam's Park Slope home sale is from 1 to 6 p.m. at 464 Sixth Street, Apt. 2R.

Amid all the madness, remember that tomorrow is Gaudete Sunday—the joyous third Sunday in Advent (or, as I think of it in Advent-wreath terms, "Pink Candle Sunday"). Amid all the anxious waiting, it's a chance to whoop it up a little, liturgically and otherwise.

Dudes...Hallowe'en is, like, so over.

Maybe that's the message from Bagel the Squirrel (or perhaps his nephew Pepito). Instead of his usual carbohydrate offerings from the neighbors' trash (gnawed Jamaican meat patties are a current fave), we have this corpse from my compost heap. This poor little veggie has gone from Martha Stewart to Jack Skellington in the blink of a month, hasn't he?

I took it as a squirrelly reminder that we have no Christmas decorations up on the house yet. We don't do the whole Snoopy's Doghouse/Dyker Heights madness, but we do put up a pretty string of "drip" lights on the scruffy porch and, sometimes, electric candles in the windows (although I have to duct-tape them to our narrow sills, and then the cats blunder into them). I've been distracted with getting my Prospect Park calendar printed. It is now in hand and shipping; it's glossy and lovely and, on this dreary day, brings me back to the blissful hours I spent in the park this year. If you haven't done so, take a look; it would make a great gift (although Bagel and Pepito would rather have more old gourds, thanks). It will also help explain why we're so easily lured away and distracted from our renovation projects; we can always walk across the street and play in the park!

It's time for the annual CrazyStable wrap-up of the grooviest holiday shopping on the planet, right here in Brooklyn. In this time of economic downturn, you could head to some soul-crushing mall and buy marked-down practical crap...or you could feed the souls of you and those you love with absolutely original, delightful, artisanal delights from Brooklyn's niftiest neighborhoods. I know, tough choice, but that stuffy food court with the free samples of Teriyaki Chicken and the piped-in Muzak will always be there next year. Hit the brisk streets, (or the Internet in many cases if you can't get out) and check it out!

First, close to home, is my baby: the gorgeous 2009 calendar based on my other blog, Prospect: A Year in the Park. You can order with one-click PayPal at www.ayearainthepark.com. It's a 12-month, full-color, bookstore-quality calendar of my best photos of Prospect Park's stunning art, architecture, woods, meadows, and lake. And because I wanted, not some old template, but the design I saw in my head--open, airy, studded with dazzling little details--I learned Adobe InDesign and designed it myself. The park has been a huge gift to my life this year, (I call it "the mystical green heart of Brooklyn" and also my Urban Narnia), and this is my way of making it a gift you can give to yourself and others. Want to save shipping and get your calendar signed by ze artist? Come to the St. Boniface crafts fair next Sunday afternoon, Dec. 14th, at St. Joseph's High School, 382 Bridge Street (on Willoughby). And no, I have not gone totally digital: For my hand-made book art, check out www.tenthleper.us for inspiring pochoir accordion books in slipcases, pocket-sized treasures of Walt Whitman verse, and a solstice message from one of the Twentieth Century's most interesting women.

My Bloody Brilliant Brooklyn Buddies

Art from living artists: the coolest gift in the universe. Let's start with painter Karen Friedland, whose collectors wait all year for her home studio sale each December (perhaps because she is prone to absurdly gentle pricing around the holidays). Her vibrant work could turn a DMV waiting room into a joyous dreamscape. She renders armchairs, cafes and foreign cityscapes into wild visions of color, but I am partial to her tenderly evocative elephants (shown). Karen's sale is at 190 Marlborough Road (Q train, Beverly Road station), next weekend, Dec. 13 and 14th, between 1-5 p.m.

More brilliance: Awesome paintings and hand-painted silk scarves from artist/illustrator Betsy Day. Treasure-loaded jewelry designs from Sam Tomasello. Books and prints of enchantment from Kris Waldherr (another fellow Flatbusher). Environmental mixed-media things of beauty from Kathy Levine (who's having a home studio sale of her own--yes, in Flatbush, the Next Arts Hot Spot--this weekend and next).

Holiday Fair Madness

Finally, there are absurd numbers of great craft and art fairs happening this weekend and next, and we are not talking orange-acrylic-knitted toilet-paper covers here, folks. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Sunday, Dec. 7:  Starting close to home, Holy Name School (attended by Daughter) is having a Holiday Fair  from 12 til 4 p.m.; they're at the intersection of Prospect Avenue and Prospect Park West in Windsor Terrace, go through the parking lot to the hall underneath the church.

For major hipness, check out the Third Ward Handmade Holiday Craft Fair in Bushwick (hey, Williamsburg is, like, so over, man!) Dec. 7 from 12 to 7 p.m. They promise "vintage wares, and everything else from jewelry to LED Hula hoops to dog costumes" (hey, I need, like, all of those!), plus a D.J. called "Sigmund Droid." It's at 195 Morgan Avenue; go here for more info.

Don't laugh: Give Gowanus for the holidays! No, not the canal water, although that would be edgy. Some of the best artists (discovered and un-) in Brooklyn are showing and selling each weekend from now through Dec. 22. (Shown: Eddie E. Cato's"Gowanus El" from 1972.) The Gowanus Conservancy's art show and sale features more than 125 oils, watercolors, photos and other media, with many smaller works priced for actual buying. The works reflect the haunting spare beauty of the surrounding post-industrial landscape (big sky, hulking bridges, brownstones, cobblestones) and beyond, and I love it.

Now go out there and shop;  for the sake of our great nation's economy it is your civic duty to spend lavishly!