eagle solstice

there have been bald eagles this winter

four so far, 

two last trip into the forest preserve.

there were many years without eagles altogether,

so this is good.

 there was some snow left on the setback near newton falls last weekend.

 a real wilderness sense

despite being near old industrial sites

(newton falls paper mill, benson mines)

 and someone left an apple.

 now it's warm and the snow is gone and they're predicting rain and floods and wind

but it's

solstice.

 i began the day early

finishing up the leftover pulp from the semester.

indigo pigmented abaca

may this solstice sustain your heart.

gratitude and paper

thank you all for your kind wishes for hannah and tyler.

they are feeling a bit better, a bit less shell shocked.

which makes my heart beat more easily.

after the first evening walk in ages

 i gathered up some black eyed susan petals,

from my backporchpatch

 and set them to soak

(maybe for ink)

 in paper doings 

my student todd brought me this lovely gampi/cattail paper

(an apple for the teacher, he smiled)

it's delicious, 

much more subtle than the photo shows.

 todd's gampi supports two little flax with lokta stitch sheets i took along to maiwa

 here they are with some indigo dyed hand spun hemp 

 and then some walnut dunked earth pigmented sheets

on a walnut/flax/stitched sheet

there seems to be no end to the possibilities

of which i've just scratched the surface.

 and then this came

oh, my.

if you've ever thought of making your own ink

you should check out this book

 a touch of color on the corners entices you to open

 an illustration from the book: 

buckthorn ink

a green earth pigment dunked in black walnut

 and then an ochre, likewise dunked

 and the backside of this indigo dunked flax and lokta

 a wee bit of hemp basket in making

 one of my flax samplers 

(there are a few of these...

 nice back, don't you think?

contact printed acrhes text wove.

 my class worked with drew matott and johnny lafalse

while i was at maiwa

drew overexposed

 my students learning and pulp painting

 how to form a sheet, 

back left is johnny

 each bucket a different pulp, 

mostly from knitted cotton shirts

 and almost black and blue pulps, 

and a brand new sheet.

i came back and we all have to slow down now

and make really good sheets 

after repulping half of their first abaca sheets

they are really, really attentive.

living through

the season has shifted,

ever so slightly, we've all been talking about it

as though it doesn't every damned year.

you can rely on it, morning cold toes

sniffly or more nose

ripening reds and purples continue with joy.

we gather

so do the deer

the raccoons

birds have avain business to attend, 

flight plans logged,

wasps in the dropped fruit, look out!

and maybe a bear you might see

if you're very lucky.

me, i look for stanghorns in sumac

falling stars in the night sky

first leaves turning

succession of goldenrods.

reappearance of asters

and wild grapes

ticks will search, too.

it's a give and take and beware and bedazzled

all wrapped up into what we need for

winter.

maybe that's why i've been making these things:

 flax paper drying on house rugs before tess the english setter arrived

for a weekend stay.

 some of my blotter papers have become interesting

 this is badger paper again,

a mix of everything but largely lokta and flax and words, many many words

 a red ochre pigment to the pulp

 my dashboard 'decor'

 i went to a painting with soils workshop

and the selection was interesting, 

all gathered on site except for the black and green

 the binder we used:

elmer's glue.

the soils were sieved, but not quite enough for a good paint

 the binder/carrier was less than desirable

but the soil scientists were great to talk with.

 scientists and artists need to get together

they have so much to talk about.

black eyed susans last a long season here.

 useful plants

 make themselves known in contact prints

if you can talk them into it.

 this is how i felt when i saw them!

 indian pipe.

in my perennial border!

 i haven't seen them here 

ever.

ghost plants

that i once used to dye wool a lovely gray.

 and another thing i've never seen here.

cherries.

across the road, on the edge, last evening

a branch with a large red berry and a few on the ground.

it looked, smelled, felt, and then tasted like a cherry!
NOT CHERRIES!!!!!
these are wild plums. they are tiny, and very plummy, with a stone that's got a ridge around it's long-side-circumference. 
love facebook where the locals answer my questions!
and the taste--definitely more plummy than cherry.

i was astonished

this is most certainly not wild cherry country. 

and now i have so many questions.

in the day to day news of my small living,

i'm preparing for my fall papermaking class with joy.

i will also travel to Maiwa in early september.

and then

and then

another big thing

in february

CODEX

and i've been accepted.

i'll be there with the rock stars in the book arts world.

don't know how i feel about it all (except those fears)

 familiar ghosts,

but i'm giving it a chance.

if anyone has any advice about it, i would love to hear from you!

golly, CODEX.

time was and passes

time passes

there are things that remind you of what it was like to be another you.

this photo of two impossibly beautiful young outlaws.

do you remember this story? raindrops keep falling on my head?

lost along with a whole bunch of other things.

there was a west that never existed, 

as well, i suppose, as an east.

 what does the mama snapper think?

she has other things on her mind.

 stay away, you

 stay away

so i did.

i don't even know if she laid eggs.

there have been very few snappers along the roads here this 

summer.

 at the grocers i found an australian friend

though not the tasty one i like.

 spotted in the garage.

i am speechless.

~~~

all of you my friends,

this paper,

folded here prior to cutting for spinning

 this is a beautiful kozo

handmade, lovely and strong and a gift.

anyone, 

any of you who read this

and gave me this wonderful paper,

will you please let me know?

(i'm thanking you now, again)

it was a gift, 

and it was smallish (maybe 14 x 20 or smaller)

and i want to buy more.

but dammit i can't remember who gave me it.

 in town i bought pizza the other evening

 it was very good.

i found a little drama, 

an egg, 

un-nested

and found by a fly

 who waits, 

i guess.

 there's no such thing as 

free lunch.

beauty is, however, free.

  this pattern charmed me today, 

as i walked to the studio to finish sheet forming another 3 pounds 

of flax.

i need to have my hands making paper,

or thread,

or books.

soon my first born will be 

older than the men in the first photo.

how can that be?

tonight, 

after a long and busy day,

i think on the blessings of turtles who know their business,

of beautiful paper

now in the drying stack.

i think of the few plants i tend in my little gardens

and of the new garden i've begun

at the place i call Home.

i think of the garden of friends i've made through the blessing

of this medium.

and i am, indeed, grateful.
ADDENDUM:
i was wrong. my son is a wee bit older than sundance, 
a lot younger than butch in this photo.
his birthday is coming up, so that's on my mind!