(t)here and back again

 i received two men's robes

both cotton indigo that my friend found in japan

 i promptly washed them.

the lined one had accumulated years of dirt and dust which 

i washed once 

and rinsed at least a dozen times.

 both pieces dried on a very  hot day in a very 

short time.

are scented now with north country summer

not dust.

 the ikat patterning on the lined piece

 and the lining

 nearby

 the chimney brick with the lichen patterning sits in the sun

it has become the perch of some bird--lots of what we as kids used to call bird-do 

but still color that inspires me.

 i have been making some contact prints with the square flax sheets

and cloth, this is old cotton 

 here you can see a flax square

and the red daylily spent blossoms.

  the flax square still wet

 concrete steps are the perfect background, if narrow.

 and i made some more linen paper.

justaposition:

a.  plain raw flax paper                                           b. linen fabric, my sister's pants by Flax

c.  two sheets of the above with fabric inclusion    d. linen paper (made solely from above 

                                cloth 

 i decided to travel to maine

and then i undecided

 and took a happy walk yesterday evening

 overlooked by luna

 below that sky was the july harvest baled for the neighbor's cattle.

first time i ever remember it being cut almost on time.

evening shadows.

 two pair of little ruby throated hummingbirds played at the feeders 

this morning. 

 i'm wearing cotton socks on my feet today, 

celebrating happy respite from the humid heat.

over on fb i found a photo of two of my favorite australians

that i just had to share.

colleen and brian

collen of the astonishing hair, brian enwrapped in a hat and scarf,

probably needled by colleen.

and the title above? 

i was going to maine today.

but i decided not to. i love my maine family

i wanted to see them and 

see the ocean and

visit the arctic museum

but

i wanted to stay home, 

with the round bales and the hummingbirds

and the cresent moon

and the blessed cool weather, more.

i am off to make more prints and paper

and hang out my laundry and go to town

to resume mail delivery.

i'm home for a while.

thanking porcupine

a large flat package came with the instructions

don't open till the 25th, or sooner if you wish.

 i waited

ian made us a drawing of home.

home in the woods

(these woods are actually overgrown farmland, marginal at best, 

 logged before once or twice, and before that, woods)

the front of the house faces a meadow and the ridges that form the land.

 the back, where the back door, bridge, and side door live

is the side where the work happens.

 i see some odd beasts in the snowy woods

 the sun came out after the big snow.

that's when it gets cold.

  walks this week have been painfully cold

so much so that i barely go out.

(don't listen to my complaints about car troubles, over 2K worth,

and the fact that these old knees don't like the cold any more,

and the fact i'm housebound)

 this is when the snow set in.

 the stream that winds through and out and away

 i think this is wool grass

 gin might know

 when it gets this cold,

so cold that a face mask is essential.

i need to stay at my place to keep an eye on things

the new place also has to be kept warm, a different task.

 hauling wood and feeding the stove is straightforward hard work, 

here it's a furnace and potentially freezing pipes. 

 the new place is warmer and tighter with 14 in. outside walls.

i become grumpy when i have to drive 5 hours for a post op check.

i spotted this small fierce one yesterday, finally,

and went out later when s/he returned to the woods.

i'd seen evidence of eating activity in the arbor vitae

deer and porcupine already.

here s/he is.

 porcupine has begun feeding the cedar (arbor vitae) by my diveway

 s/he was not happy about me speaking and photographing,

and tried for a bit to enter my garage.

 i found that porcupine did not like having snow tossed at it

s/he turned away and was off.

 i was presented with the armor side, 

and if i got closer that tail would have tried to bop me one.

they can move surprisingly quickly.

when i first moved to the north country i lived in star lake in the adirondacks.

i found dead porcupines, and harvested some quills, with thanks.

they became part of a coil basket, and some were umbilicaria lichen dyed

and given to silversmith friends.

which were given back to me as earrings!

anyway, my neighbors stopped once,

asking me if i need help.

i was taking some quills from a roadkilled one. they thought i'd had an accident. 

needed help.

i thought they were worried i wouldn't take care of (relocate) the body.

a lesson in perspective and gratitude.

it's hard to maintain both practices isn't it?

distance seeing

naomi and i spotted them from a distance

but they seemed familiar

something like adventure based counseling

or new games

perhaps,

or...

they were playing soccer

sort of

after listening to the intricacies of football, footie, baseball, rugby, soccer (shudder)

netball...

my mind just couldn't grasp it all.

the park was generous and lovely, game fields galore,

when these guys appeared on the horizon,

then up close.

they were an odd metaphor for me:

how this trip has been,

supported by hope and kindnesses

and buffeted by crowds and crazy weather

and unexpected caring.

hugs and closeness and good conversations.

i kept my eyes open, mostly

and was happily surprised time and time again.

sometimes you have to be 

deep in 

before you see

that it's going to be all right.

worth it.

even better, making

and keeping 

friends.

celebrating them.

(thinking particularly of two: frankie and will)

coming home late 

after too many hours pining away on an airplane

or running like mad in airports

(mostly the dread LAX)

i am home, rested some

and ready to go back to work

for the final weeks... months of teaching.

may a soft bubble be there for you when you need it.

 adventures are wonderful

cominghome is, too.

weather report: 

last night at the place i call home

i heard a half dozen woodcock

robins 

peepers

singing down the night.

with great good cheer.

welcome home.

light leaving at home

saturday afternoon

the wind came up and it was cold, wintery, finally.

i knew it would be harsh.

it was.

we walked down our dirt road

to the bridge and looked back,

back towards our place called home.

 it was sunset

and a gray day among so many short gray days

and the wind gusted its wintry self

ha ha ha 

because it IS winter.

 and this is the other view,

this same stream as the one with the beaver action

in the first photo

and here it is.

this morning at the late dawn

snow. 

two inches? i was asked? no

one? no

a half, probably.

 but it's cold enough to make some more 

or to build on this if the ground cools some more.

across the "pond"

man-dug into the stream that flows through the land

at the place called home

there are more ridges in this 

rocky place.

we have plans, though, and will work hard

making this home.

it provides for us already,

but we do have to work some at it.

all good work.

at home.

kicking and screaming

  3x6 shifu

a folio

plus a stack of papers

contact printed with

 wild grapes and sumac and goldenrod and rose

yesterday

in response to frustration

in retaliation to that feeling of being devalued and used. 

today i saw over 20 wild

turkeys and deer.

everyone is moving, 

it's autumn and there is unrest.

yep, that's how i've been feeling

if it's not my tooth, 

one or the other,

it's work, 

a huge challenge this year.

then, 

friday i came home

to a package of my work,

returned from an invitational show.

part of the work is missing completely.

two pieces, shifu, one a very special piece.

hopefully they will come in another box.

in good shape.

but i have doubts because

another large paper piece was returned. 

folded. folded.

12 kozo panels, long and narrow, hung together as a series...

they were hand delivered, neatly rolled in a wooden box.

now the panels are folded.

all weekend i have been in that place

you go when you have been 

attacked somehow, when your work

is devalued. 

i can't understand how this happened,

i hope the other two pieces

are returned.

i have my doubts.

~~~

another solace is this place

still no functioning kitchen

but getting closer 

to habitation.

the west porch bridge, the south face,

and stucco foundation

at the new place.

some things are very good.

before solstice gifts

friendly birds brought

a gift to my ditch

wild columbine

over at the new place:

a door

cedar on the outside

yellow birch on the interior

hand carved handles

the stairs,

also yellow birch,

are in

and back at home

i gathered a basket

of yard gifts

lupine, lilac, buttercup, hawkweed, rosa rugosa, iris, fern

hortus siccus

to make several long sheets

the top of the pot looked like this

nothing is wasted

gabby made herself a journal

(see how she played with the corner treatments)

for her work this summer

studying with the amazing 

don glaiser and suzanne moore.