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.