2016

this has been a doozie of a year.

so many losses.

so much sadness.

a terrible election process and a worse result.

more evidence of global warming.

and yet...

and yet...there remains 

the generosity of plants

the kindnesses of human beings

the love of our animal companions

brave people

art, and the joy of using tools. 

so.

recently my son ian went public 

asking for financial help via gofundme.

he is hoping to pay his counseling bills.

ian's campaign came online just after amanda degener started

one for bridget o'malley (these two are Cave Paper).

bridget has had a health crisis.

these two remind me of amanda palmer

who has made a case that asking 

is ok to do.

 yesterday i went out to my meadow

and harvested milkweed in the mild winter weather

sharpened by wind.

(i remember harvesting milkweed one year on skis
the snow was knee high or so.)

last night,

unfinished though i worked seven hours stripping the bast,

i had time to ponder asking

giving, receiving,

and realize i have to rethink all of this.

 on ian's gofundme one woman donated the cost of a pack of cigarettes. 

this strikes me as generous

and sacrificial.

some friends of mine have contributed, too.

abundance shared is beautiful.

here's a photo taken out the kitchen window at the new place

i call HOME.

 and our old barn at my old place,

so loved by my kids and me continues  
returning to earth.

 one stalk of milkweed,

waiting for me, perhaps,
or a songbird next spring might 
harvest the fibers for nest making.

the generosity of plants

continues.
and i ponder gratitude.

catching up the year end

she's been visiting regularly

but i don't see her often,

just her tracks.

 i made two homes for special pebbles.

the australian ones came from the southern oceanside

at cape otway.

the acadian ones came from mt desert island, maine.

 i couldn't get them all in focus, but it didn't matter.

 the last three contact prints

with the left over flora from this fall.

i had saved it
and it was mostly all dried out-

 some freeze-dried plants shared their 
beauty

 the colors were strong, lots of green, too.

what a surprise.

 i practice bindings
 on leftover scraps of paper
sometimes.

you can see tension was an issue here.

 over at zone 4

milkweed pulp.

i made three different milkweed papers,

from here, field retted and colorful and wild

 milkweed from berea 

gathered by gin petty and dried for some time

lovely tidy paper

sheet formation a bit better

 and butterfly weed

also from gin.
all three were handbeaten, the best was the butterfly weed.
either i was more patient
or got tougher
but my shoulders and neck are still complaining.

using the gift of the zone 4 studio

i've been happy working 

with different moulds,

formation aid that was already prepped, 

and all i have to do is haul stuff around.

i've gotten to know which moulds over there i like

and which ones are beguiling 

and rather strange for my work.

aimee reminded me of placing thread between two wet sheets

so i did some with kami-ito

long ago i used linen for this purpose,

and in fact my very first hard bound book

was made with this paper

my teacher was the amazing sally smith.

 this is the corner i like to make sheets in

there's a drain directly under the mat i stand upon.

 and felts. 
i've washed and/or brushed all of the felts now.

 drying out moulds

my own and zone 4's

 there's even a manifesto of sorts:

ZONE 4

Let's make paper!

and books! 

and silkscreens

and adinkra prints

and journal binding

i've been using some of the larger 

offcuts from caliban press

for funky sewing.

making paper with the smaller ones.

 drying blotters

 on christmas eve

listening to the festival of nine lessons and carols

from king's college in cambridge

live, 
a tradition i adore.

i cleaned and tidied and readied myself

for christmas.

 christmas morning breakfast

pancakes and strawberries leftover from that summer wedding.

(and maple syrup and butter)

 we'd agreed to have a quiet christmas,

 purchased new tubbs snowshoes for ourselves.

but then this little machine appeared.

and it works just fine!
astonished me
i love it.

 we went for a drive in the 27 degree sunshine before lunch 

and i found the first paper-related "official" sign i'd ever seen!

 that huge mission oak table will move through the doors

into my studio soon

 where i will set up the dry studio.

  a chilly and frozen and slippery walk ended
coming home with the dogs
through meadow

and the long shadows

you can see the new place,

 bridge to the side door.

home, where soon with luck,

i will be full-time.

all of the kids are away this year.

my son ian has a crowd funding effort here

to help him over a big hump.

 to you
my dear readers,
friends, and sometimes even students,
happy holy days 

see you on the other side.

snow

it's snowing steady and hard today.

yesterday i had one of those days.

it could have been really really bad.

but it wasn't.

i subbed in my old school.

on the way my car made a big stink-burning rubberish.

but i had to get there.

let me report that this class of sixth graders was pretty challenging

and not at all fun.

after school the car still smelled bad.

i stopped at zone 4 to pick up the milkweed papers.

 the photo above is 'enhanced', below is not.

the sheets are WILD, WILD.

 i hand beat the fiber

the first time in too many years

 and you can see it's way underbeaten,

 but oh, it's beautiful!

after, i went to 'my' mechanic's shop

and the verdict was: a frozen brake caliper.

a woman was there picking up her car.

she turned to me, 

and it was marilyn,

one of my riding coaches from my 30's.

i hugged her probably too hard. 

it was terrific to see her. 

and she drove me the five miles home.

(i was so very happy and still am!)

where i sit, without a car, for the duration.

 my porch, just now

i will be teaching at nancy zeller's beautiful  longrigde farm 

next august,

papermaking!!!

please go over to the website and take a look. 

this year sandra brownlee and i are teaching,

(not simultaneously)

we will make clouds of pulp and 

other delights. 

if you haven't been to longridge, 

and you are considering a summer workshop,

you are in for a treat.

do join us!

a day or so late

 just before the moon was full

i walked in late afternoon

to the east, the moon rising

 to the west the sun setting

and the neighbor cows

 well, i've taken to talking to them.

and they look at me.

they seem to be staying close to the barn

and the round bales in the yard.

there's a new baby

 chocolate amongst the beautiful mamas.

and this itchy girl

made good use of granite.

 holding fast to normalcy

i am hoping for hope.

these beautiful beasts whose consciousness i can't grasp

and the birds, snow buntings, chickadees and bluejays

(at night owls call)

these things ground me and remind me

that our beautiful mother will be here

before and after me.

i keep turning off the news.

i will make milkweed paper today.

prayer flags

one of the few positive political

actions i've taken this year (besides voting)

 i'm participating in a group project

 organized with 60 participants

 from across the country

 can you guess which ones are mine?

shu-ju wang is hosting this prayer flag project.

mine are picture number 3

indigo and rust dyes.

northernness

yesterday i taught a group

of adult hospice workers

how to make star books and an origami book.

they were a lovely bunch.

i came home so happy to have been asked to help non-art folks

make something with their hands

that maybe they can pass along.

one tiny book,

that becomes an ornament.

nancy moraines taught me this structure a long time ago.

and claire van vliet taught me the origami book

that i passed on.

(no photos, 

somehow it seemed to be a photo-free day.)

it creates a book that has change integral to the structure.

someone i know called this kind of thing a trick with a hole in it.

transformation is a peculiar thing.

~~~

these flip flops

 have been on the roadside for months

i don't know the story

but the snow increases intrigue.

the barn continues its disappearing act

 exposing the spot where the kids played and played

 i loaded the mow with hundreds of bales of hay

that i hauled off the meadow after baling

years ago.

 what memories this building has
30 years of our memories, 
and many more before
because many of the framing timbers were recycled.

 it's locking into cold now.
ice forming its own contour map.

 such a huge crop 
of wild grapes here this year.

 and i've been gathering milkweed bast

 gin sent me some milkweed bast, too,

a bit different than mine

 and this was another batch, 

field retted until there is quite a bit of gray.
cooked and ready for beating.

 these days walking has been rather gloomy

 which is what happens.

a ring around the sun

 as it sets
very subtle
but there.
i saw it.

two days ago.

 the cows, as ever, watch

and eat,

their sweet muck scent startling,
rich in the coldness.

 they watch me 
 i speak to them

sometimes the calves are skittish.

sometimes there is little
interest in me.

our concerns are perhaps not so different

 food, shelter, joy, daylight.
belonging.

 december moves into solstice.