talking with a coyote

yesterday was another weirdly warm day,

 too warm for jeans.

after supper while i was doing some fabric reclamation 

picking some really bad embroidery out of a piece of linen

to make paper with.

i heard them,

the coyote family i've been paying attention to all year.

i went out on my porch to listen, marveling at the warm evening

(and still pissed off about picking up a tick in it

-yes- 

in my YARD)

the family was spread out, some responding from pretty far off and then one howled

just across the road in the brush by my neighbors house, a young one!

then it barked. barked again. so i barked. quiet, then another bark. i barked.

and an exchange ensued, coyote kid and crone in training barking. 

i don't speak coyote, but i have been listening all year,

and i've never heard a single coyote bark for so long,

responding to my cadence and short barks,

so i know there was reciprocation. 

i finally stopped, afraid that that one's curiosity might tempt it across the road

which would not be good. 

my heart sang, or rather barked, all night long.

~~~

two books are brewing

a loom book and a landscape book.

loom book dummy:

it's blurry, but:

                                    and now to build a bigger and better loom book

                                              and see what my needle weaves.

physik

the phrase i woke up thinking of this morning

was this:

"it's not enough to physik a jay bird"

something my folks used to say.

they had many lovely mountain sayings that i've mostly forgotten.

i found several of the tiny things that were in the soil of this pot

shells, pebbles

knocked onto the porch one day.

and on another day i also found this one's

been in the poor old hibiscus.

my jaybird must be looking for a physik.

as i continue making paper from what's been given me,

small batches that keep me happy

and prompt book ideas,

from rag:

white-cotton/linen shirt

lavender-patagonia hemp skirt

and

green-cotton off cuts in many green tones from st armand 

and an accordion booklet beginning here is now complete.

flax paper

tow linen threads (20)

a few tiny greasy yellow beads

 how many times (at least 10) do i have to rinse

black walnut dyed cotton woven tape

before i can let it dry?

 and here it is on a lokta shifu square

 on the walk hunting season has begun

which makes me pay attention.

 this large doe isn't too worried. yet.

milkweed pods are splitting

after the first hard frost this week.

 red maples dance

but autumn color is late and subdued

in this strange long warm autumn.

the ticks became active after the frost.

the traffic on my walk 

 expells exhaust that doesn't make me choke.

 i need to get 

my milkweed harvest stripped and cooked

soon.

this is last years harvest

perfect for a mouse or a bird's nest.

that big bag of stalks that's waiting needs my attention

before it's so retted that 

only the birds will use it

though that is a noble use.

on this walk i was happily reminded to get to that chore soon.

asclepias

it's milkweed harvest season.

the monarchs are all done

and in my 25 acre grown up meadow

amongst the head high and higher goldenrod and brambly blackraspberry

i strove for an hour and a half harvesting

asclepia, milkweed.

it's between green and field retting time,

the leaves are gold or gone,

and only a little milk left.

the bast fiber  in the stalks is what i'm after, 

and the few pods left 

will provide me with seed fiber

all this fiber is for making paper later this fall.

i can't even begin to describe how jungly that meadow is.

much grown up to baby trees or bushes

but the goldenrod! over my head!

and the warm october meant that the thankfully tick free toil

was some of the hardest work i've done in a long time.

the result was a huge heavy plastic bag of potential.

 i always make a little twine for fun

thankful that i don't have to make all the string i use in a year.

 on my stove is a big pot

full of the black walnut harvest from two trees in town

in dye form.

(i only took some, the squirrels got most).

i've already dyed paper and cotton and silk and maybe some wool in it.

but i put in woven cotton tape a couple weeks ago.

it's cooked, steeped, cooked, steeped, fermented a bit

and the tape isn't dark enough yet.

but it will get there.

skein of twill woven cotton tape, dried

the last reveal included a fruity growth

moonorlichenscape?

see those beady bubbles

baubles

looking like amber treasure. 

 and some spores...

this layer went right into the garden

before i removed the skein.

my friend told me this summer

that if i was born 200 years ago i'd have been 

accused of witchcraft.

perhaps he's right. 

Inuit

i'm a northerner,

have lived next to the canadian border most of my life

and have had a longing to go north.

further up.

way north.

i like the artifacts of the north, the tools, the clothing, the elegance of making 

with very few resources.

yesterday my partner came by

with a surprise for me.

he said, 

"i bought you a kayak".

i couldn't see one, 

but thought maybe he'd left it and we'd go pick it up.

he opened the hatch and instead 

it was in the forester

this elegant model

made for tourists for sure,

and why not?

i love this long, slim boat

and all the details.

i was messing with photo correcting stuff 

(apologies for the poor first photo)

and this happened: 

also this busy, warm week

i've arranged to have a roof put on my house,

taught, 

and gotten this in the mail.

the wonderful folks at Solva 

sent it

signed, no  less!

this is a book to cherish

and if you're lucky

to remember the rich

words

poems

spells

along with the golden 

brilliant

paintings.

even as a child,

i remember loving certain books.

almost unbearably.

this would have been one of them.

back on the ground,

here at zone 4

some of the last batch of paper i made finally dried.

white from Yoyo's Awagami kozo,

colored with earth pigments

including indigo from Maiwa

(and a little more kami-ito and shifu.)

i feel like i'm beginning to understand how these earth pigments

work with flax, hemp, kozo.

first of october

an email exchange with jane ploughman

resulted in a wonderful visit.

she and john vincent visited the peace paper exhibition

just down the hall from zone 4.

jane and john know drew and jana of peace paper, 

and of course the combat papermakers,

 john's vermont based Revolutionary Press 

helps support social activism and justice endeavors 

in the paper and book arts world. 

jane and john met me at slu 

and they viewed the three galleries celebrating the  

work of drew matott with combat, peace, and st pauli  paper.

jane made the little piece of garlic paper with suminagashi above,

and john printed this small broadside

and the card below. three special gifts i really like!

jane brought two of her fine artists' books to show me as well.

i told jane and john to find me by following the sound of the beater

which i had switched off by the time they came looking.

but find me they did, and we had a lovely long talk

as paper and book people can!

they know hannah from her work at northeast harbor library.

~~~

the woven web.

~~~

our book arts students displayed their first books,

nine students, 

working in concertina, tunnel, origami structures

and following their concept of line.

learning where a line will meander

and how.

i emailed stephen dairing in australia

in order to get a few more skeins of this lovely stuff

bark with which i'm making vessels for shifu books.

~~~

 saturday we went to paul smith's college VIC

to enjoy harvest/homestead demos.

i love seeing young women competing equally with their male student peers.

this competition, 

where two woodcutters split the log they are standing on

always unsettles me.

they hoist the axe high overhead

and gouge out wedges of wood between their feet

with precision and accuracy 

(or else!)

and the first one done wins.

they are so vigorous that often the whole 'structure' moves 

backwards with the force of their swings.

at home

this is the outlet of our pond

yesterday morning 

after the frost surprised us.

the weather has turned and now it's fall.

and then this:

found on my garage door.

how long has it been

there?