the mail

 a wonderful card happened 

into my mailbox

an unexpected gift from ronnie

 india's latest 

a booklet, a project,

an invitation

india using a leaf

as a spoon

is so very india

and a wee bit faerie

 a strong sheet of kozo

 envelopes

 a beautifully geometric bag

 dyed and woven 

by chinami ricketts

the flat winter light here doesn't show

the soft, rich variations of indigo

chinami achieved.

friends, books

he'll probably give me hell if he sees this:

my extremely talented printer friend mark mcmurray

at the oxford book fair 

yes, THAT oxford

the one with the spires and bells

not only is he talented, and a special collections librarian, 

he has purchased wake robin papers for caliban press books!

mark is my local person to bang around book art ideas with

as university acrhivist he's digital

 he gets his students printing letterpress as well.

sometimes he brings them to my mill to make paper.

his kind advice, which i have yet to follow:

"edition, edition. edition."

~~~

last summer 

i taught a couple of workshops in the 

pacific northwest

today i found this:

http://crowzenart.blogspot.com

thank you, jan.

~~~

my first natural dyeing was after college

at school (mid 70s) it was all procion or acid dyes. 

i learned natural dyeing in kentucky

from the anne mcginty guild and began messing around.

in the meantime i dyed bits and pieces with weird stuff

soil from a camping trip with hooligans, lichens,

raspberry "ink" ian and nate made and left in the fridge for years. 

 later i thought about making marks with rusty metal and weather...

so i wrapped a 55 gallon barrel in muslin, 

fed and watered it all one september, 

and made an amazing cloth. i did it again. 

i used it as book cloth, i sold some. time passed.

then i heard about india.

this is coming back to mark: when i show him 

the cloth he gives me feedback

so i play a bit with paper, too.

~~~ 

the next book will be 

bloodroot and violet

i think

three day weekend, 

whoopie!

images from nearfaraway

large lace, 
green frill on chocolate
about 15 inches across
 
smiles
 
nancy is a lovely host, 
this place hides on a mountain, 
nestled in the north woods

one foundation supports a barn, shows some big air
the hills where the farm hides 

 whirling like the earth
a dervish
a witch
she gifted us with 
a special activity
another woods walk 
this purpose: giftedtime 
to think, 
to lookseesmelltastehear,
to write,
to share
we are all stitched together, we sisters, we 
tiny staghorn sumac tied up with silk

task

last night's task was this:

chase a young porcupine out of the yard.

it seems easy, right? well.

these creatures know they are armored

and have, apparently only fishers as enemies.
(and traffic)

anyway, with wendy living here,

and three other dogs as regular visitors

i can't welcome porkys.

i had to be mean, 

yell and nudge it with a basswood branch.

i hate this.

 the magic lilies are up

grey dogwood is producing food for grouse, 

among other birds.

 i worked all day on lokta, five sheets prepped, two spun

trying to map out a couple of books. 

i leave sunday for a workshop 

at long ridge farm, with india

out of time

i spent about 24 hours in toronto. in that time i was mightily changed. it was time out of mind.

brockville via rail

i traveled by train from brockville (about 50 minutes from my farm) to toronto and wendy, who was my host. i met  andrew and jack who took the place of wendy the border collie for a bit.

there was a message for me here

i spent time in her studio, had wild taxi rides complete with one magic voodoo visa machine,  ate lovely lunch on the sidewalk, visited the japanese paper place, touched(!!!) the exquisite shifu of hiroko karuno, met sigrid, and clarissa, and violet, and india. 

the japanese paper place and sigrid

holding a timothy ely book

holy cow!

india wearing india

me wearing india

wow. i can't begin to explain how i felt.

out the train window, almost to brockville

i loved riding the train, except for the cat piss stinky woman, and the grubby guy wearing a roy jersey who seemed to be permeated in cigarette stench. he seemed so lost. he only sat next to me for a while. on a train you are free to draw and write and do things and you have a BIG window to look out. i looked. a lot. at lake ontario, two harriers hunting, mallards feeding, cows, haymaking. and then i came home.

there was a one hour wait on the ogdensburg bridge. it is a mile long. it sways.