Day 41: Create a large version of something small

So I've been really struggling with this prompt, and even though I came up with a book to go with it, I just haven't had the energy to make something big. Yesterday involved running an outdoors table in 95-degree weather until seven at night, and by the time I came home I just wasn't even functional. I think Wednesdays I may have to give this blog a pass because I'm usually busy from the moment I get up until I'm so drained I just crash.
Today, I had less excuse. Thursday or Friday usually gets to be my goofing off day. So while I was thinking of the prompt, I didn't come up with an actual project...
There was a movie very loosely based off 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs', but I do mean very loosely. The original book comes off as an excuse, I think, to draw larger-than-life food showering down on townspeople. It's really about the illustrations, and what I've always remembered about it from my childhood was the last scene where there's a snowy hill with a setting sun that just might be mashed potatoes and butter sliding over the edge. I do own a copy of the book, we picked it up a few years ago at a yard sale or somewhere, because both I and my girlfriend remembered it from our childhood.
For a project, the only idea I came up with was to make a giant sushi roll or something, but I just don't have materials and time to make something that big, which I also just know I'd end up making complicated. What I did instead of working on a project was to have a friend over, watch 'Buckaroo Bonzai', and eat watermelon. We didn't just eat watermelon, though. We had an entire watermelon, given to us under protest by my girlfriend's father. We have no room in the fridge for an entire watermelon. It's big and unwieldy, and when our friend came over we offered it to him. He said he'd take it, but then somehow the conversation got around to cutting it open with a sword, and the next thing I knew he and my girlfriend were daring me to do it and wanted to film it.
I own several swords, including a claymore which is ridiculous because I'm not big enough to wield one effectively. I've taken a fair amount of fencing classes, although I stopped shy of expert level thanks to an unrelated-to-fencing knee injury. My friends and I used to spend a lot of time sword fighting with first wooden (not a good idea at all) and then PVC-pipe-and-foam boffer swords. I'm not an expert, but I'm relatively experienced with swords. I was open to the idea because I knew what I've got would go through a watermelon pretty easy, although apparently my girlfriend didn't realize that. So we overturned the garbage can out back, covered it with a clean garbage bag to keep the watermelon clean (which failed), and our friend took my camera. It was fun, and goofy, and we brushed the dirt off and ate watermelon after.
Tonight, while bemoaning my lack of a project, my girlfriend pointed out that cutting open a watermelon open with a sword probably counts as doing something in a much bigger than usual way, and with food even. I usually try to put more thought into my blog entries, but for tonight, I'm willing to call that good. Hope you enjoy watching it at least half as much as I enjoyed doing it.

Day 4: Walk, make with what's there

I hope it doesn't ruin the spontaneity of the project, but tying things in with books requires a little planning ahead. The prompt for today was to take a short walk and then make something with the materials there where you were. It's mostly residential around here, and I didn't feel like getting in trouble for making something on somebody's lawn. A short walk from our place, though, there's a big wooded lot that's been continuously up for sale since I moved here ten years ago. It's a big enough spot you can walk in far enough to be surrounded by trees, and I've used the area for a nature background for some costume photos, and a close place to go to just sit and be away from things for a while. It was thinking about that need for a private retreat from the world that made me think of the book 'The Secret Garden'.

I don't seem to have a copy of the book anymore, which is a little distressing, because I know I read it several times over as a kid. There's something about that universal (at least I hope it is) desire for a private nature-y place to just escape from things for a little while. I know I've always felt that urge strongly, and I grew up making forts and houses and tunnels out of the blackberry brambles at the edge of our yard. They defied every attempt my dad made to get rid of them (including the time he accidentally burned half the hillside; they grew back thicker and faster than ever), but in my own way I tamed them into dream-houses and secret retreats. There was something about weaving them out of the living vines that was important and a part of what made them special.
When I went out today, I wasn't sure what I was going to actually make. Early March woods perfectly echo the story, though, with everything still bare and the ground covered in the ruins of winter. Only a few scattered plants are starting to show the return to life and hints of spring. The ground is covered with dead leaves and downed branches, and we had major thunderstorms last night that left everything wet and big mud puddles in the hollows of the ground. I picked up a few big branches, trying to work out what to do, when I saw a giant branch that broke and tipped downward, but didn't quite disconnect from the tree. The upside-down branches formed a natural cone, big enough to stand and sit comfortably inside of. I dragged other fallen branches over to cover the holes, and wove smaller ones to reinforce it all, leaving a doorway big enough to duck through. It seemed important to only use the branches I found lying on the ground, and not break anything living. You never know what's still 'wick', alive inside and preparing to come back for the spring. There was some holly growing up through one side of the structure, which I didn't want to damage.
It was freeing to work at something I haven't done since I was a child. I wouldn't expect it to keep out the elements, by any means, but for just a little while it might be enough to keep out the world.