Thursday, March 31, 2011

mother maple

a brightness
i follow 
following a daystar 
a tiny ripple 
a tiny rift 
sugar maple 

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

purple hope

 in my yard
 there are two fingers of hope
a better sip 
of spring

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

not much

field note: two ruffed grouse, budding
on tooley pond road
eating birch catkins

not much of interest happening here.
 so i have been quiet. 
i drive and look and look and see fields bleached ochre. 
they will race to green quickly, 
so this calm is fine. 
cold enough to sleep with the window shut.

Sunday, March 27, 2011


small fiskars
the disappearance of tools from our common education is the first step toward a wider ignorance of the world of artifacts we inhabit. 
matthew b. crawford, shop class as soulcraft
a squared end (deer leg) bone folder
i have a sort of tool lust or hunger, a need. i have relatively small hands for someone my height (5'6"). i like small tools that fit my hands, so i am always on the lookout for things that feel good, work well for me.
blunt folder, elk bone
my bonefolders are some of my favorite tools, but in the category of small tools, i would also put certain needles, drills, camera, barrettes, spoons, ruler, cutting mat, scissor, brushes, and pens and pencils. it's maybe no surprise that i loved crow quill nibs better than standard ink pens when i was drawing a great deal. they were harder, but fit me better.
a tiny folder
some of my most prized possessions are tools. i have given to a couple of friends bone folders that i made after learning how from jim croft, in a sort of exuberance of knowledge: i MADE this!!!
a blunt ended folder
teach someone, maybe yourself, how to use a tool. maybe something as simple as to sew a button back on. do it soon. before the skill disappears. before all we have is velcro.
  my little stump loom, totally funky and functional

Thursday, March 24, 2011


driving home from work i am always getting over the day. 
i often have a headache. 
it's a 28 mile trip. 
i realize that i drive, gladly, rejoicing, into an ecotone. 
every day. 
and i live here, in an ecotone. 
and i am an edge person. 
john green first taught me about edges. i audited his class in natural history, 
and i remember him talking about the richness where two places meet. 
edges he said with delight.
coyotes and foxes travel edges, birds flourish, feed, and nest there, insects trill, 
and a huge variety of flora. 
in the edge. the ecotone.
terry tempest williams taught me the term ecotone. 
the "proper" word for john's edges. 
both are amazing naturalists. 
i think i am destined for edges. 
my place is on the edge of the adirondack forest preserve and the st. lawrence river valley. 
an ecotone. 
it's hilly and farmy, a mixture of wetland, rocky soil, 
beaver altered landscape, woods and meadow. 
it's beautiful. 
tonight i saw snow, wild cloudshines, and a late sunset with a light show.
and i heard my favorite of all spring birds. 
a woodcock. 
welcome home.
oh, and woodcock? 
they spend their days in the edges,
do their mating dance in the twilight
first in the meadow, 
then circling flight,
then back in the meadow.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


books and paper give words a place to lie down.
-timothy barrett
(my paper hero)
shifu and two rust books
and then in reply
ronnie says: books and paper give souls a place of solace

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

living exhausted

i remember kidding and lambing, feeding my own babies in the night, sleepless weeks when my marriage fell apart. nothing prepared me for the fatigue and weariness of pettiness and small mindedness in the workplace. sigh. the drive home was an antidote.
 that's my hill driveway just past the buggy
not very many buggies go by here
wendy barks and barks
 my little friend
 this is how i feel
 and this
and maybe i should just be 
in the clouds
or send 
my heart there
for spring

Monday, March 21, 2011

kindnesses on monday

jude, lee, and kaite
your kindnesses amaze me.
 i am still struggling with the japanese disaster. 
i will send what i can.
my thoughts
my caring 
some cash
not enough of anything, i fear

Sunday, March 20, 2011


it's why i feel balanced today, i think
a wee dram?
maple syrup
medium amber i think he said
from my land, my trees, a neighbor's labor
it tastes like maple trees.
like bark.
like soil.
no kidding. 
 it's still very warm,
i opened and 
tasted this odd bark sweetness
 this is where wendy rolled 
looking for the last 
of the snow
she's itchy
each spring
to go deep, to scratch, to revel 
one snow puddle
hidden in the raspberry canes  
i looked all around this meadow,
much overgrown
to raspberry
and honeysuckle
and wild apple
 and thorn apple
and milkweed
welcome here unlike elsewhere.
so i smelled 
the same 
or tasted the smell 
as i sat, then 
stretched out
on the soft brittle grass 
and i brought home
a bit of milkweed fiber 
time to make paper
for spring.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

big moon and other wonders

 inside through two panes
there are two moons on the horizon
 and outdoors 
no woodcock yet 
from the front porch
water though, downhill
moon play on the porch
 mud socks
 another book
pages and pages
 newborn and salted
little friends

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