Monday, August 6, 2018

august heat

the spent madder dyebath waiting for me to pour it into the perennials
started to grow some other life forms
and then i noticed the spoon.
 the bowl and half the handle took a refraction bend 
and created a non-shadow shadow.
 and became disassociated from its reality
 i mistakenly got some watercolors on something and used them as finger paint
and a little bleeding from the last of the big orange day lilies.
 left in my full sketch book
(thank you Sarah Bryant)
 indigo dyed shifu on a piece of flax pigment colored Hark! paper
as it becomes another book cover (maybe my next sketchbook)
 this hot august weather makes morning mist
 which burns off
 and then there were some new neighbors visiting.
this lady came by and surprised me.
she seemed contented and happy to have new eating
so i tootled down to my neighbor's where i thought she lived
and was met with an ornery response
"those aren't my cows.
see-there are mine"
i must say 
 there was a little herd, actually, where she pointed.
and a few minutes later her son came along on an atv and took the cows home.
the north country orneriness sometimes rubs me the wrong way.
not a word of thanks, instead an accusation.
the cows were very pretty
wonderful browns and roans, my favorite cow colorings.
i would be happy to have these ladies
across the road every evening,
if only they weren't loose, because of that hazardous
55 mph road between their usurped pasture
and my place.
a potential disaster.
i know. 
i watched another neighbor's loose horse be put down
after a car hit her, broke her leg
one winter morning, years ago.
i'm feeling a bit haggard and ragged because of this humid heat.
in other news,
i received a wonderful bit of travel funding for my Maiwa trip
professional development!
and i had yet another nail in a tire
almost 2 inches long,
necessitating a new tire (thankfully i didn't have to buy all 4,
because with 4WD all have to be the same and this set was new)
and my vacuum broke,
meaning two (so far) trips to the repair shop.
60 miles away or so.
it's a summer of little joys and a few issues.
the summer feels like it's changing, almost over except for the heat, 
it's really only just turned the corner
towards autumn.


  1. “Haggard and ragged” everywhere, you have lots of company.

  2. barbara, geesh, enough already! fear it's just the beginning, though

  3. that cow looks like she might be as ornery as her owner! Hot and very dry here, major wildfires burning, so far we've been lucky on the island. Feel like I'm drifting through the summer, doing a lot of sitting in the shade! Stay cool.

  4. I think that photo of the spoon and its not real shadow was amazing - and you description of it being dissociated from its reality is how I felt as I looked at it for too long! Your heat sounds withering, so I hope it turns for you soon.

  5. V - great little things can catch one's eye - like faux bent spoons. Crazy weather we are all having - but there is no climate change!!!! Go well. B

  6. Good grief, Velma! I don’t know the answer to stuff like the last comment from Unknown, spam again? I suppose to tighten up some safeguards. I can’t read it, and that’s probably good. What it might be about is surely not of much interest here, is it? . Good luck.

  7. Your morning mist photos are mesmerizing!

  8. jean, those cows made my day--the owner is one scary woman.
    fiona, not even sure if you can call it a shadow?...but it was one weird experience.
    barry, climate change? nope. not at all. never. (SNORT!)
    barbara, not only is blogger no longer convenient, it's letting in through craziness. and it won't send me your responses any more. thanks for liking the mist photos.
    india, i'm taking charlotte and sophena's class in september, so i'll miss you.

  9. Velma, I’ve had a few Blogger issues. Will send you the tips I learned in settings.

  10. barbara, that would be very useful, indeed.

  11. i love cows.
    yes, poof to summer.
    overly confused by it all over here.

  12. I love the spoon in the pot photo. I am always amazed at how you always have your camera/phone handy.
    It's hot here, too, even under the cedars, and I am wondering how we will convert ourselves to the hotter and dryer summers on the way. We lost a very large Rhododendron last year - it was about 10 feet tall. Some of the big evergreens are dying too. Be well and enjoy Maiwa!

  13. I cannot wrap my head around your spoon image, or this summer, but love the sweet cows.

  14. jude, indeed, poof.
    catherine, i mourn for your lovely rhododendron, and for summers that aren't scorchers.
    haxel, yes.


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