preparations

not sure if its a lawn ornament

a give away

an artistic statement

or just a place for the weary

but it decorates a front yard down the road from my place.

 being prepared has different manifestations.

because the recent big snow 

didn't swing north.

instead

blanketed the mid-atlantic states with lovely fresh stuff,

we've had little snow

and little ice

but we are prepared.

 it was cold this weekend

 with one sunshiny day

 and the tree with the lights in it.

 old pasture fence

propped up to keep young steers in.

 disappearing silo,

 braided ice along the cliff

 with a dusting of new snow.

 i didn't sample this ice

though i licked one icicle from that woodshed.

days are lengthening some

at home, 

 and there were two rainbow feet

 around behind my old farm,

 the big arc between filled with sunset.

wintertime.

it's hard not to look to the sky.

 but i look down,

 too.

ian's shop

i have a son who is trying to make a business of

house portrait drawing. 
ian moved to portland, oregon
a long time ago...
in the, is it eight? years he's been away
i've seen him twice.
only.
he does keep in touch, and lately decided to try
making a living from his 
amazing "hoosies".

                                       here are some of his most recent drawings:

in process:

 a note-tag for a bigger drawing

funky house of worship

 a place to play

www.etsy.com/shop/HousePortraitsbyIan

if you like this work, ask him to show you his heart.

it's amazing!

his portraits have such soul and humor,

and sometimes 

a great, lovely sadness, 

like life.

accumulating

as i prepare myself

for the wonderful inevitability of teaching

in

australia

this march,

i'm spinning and weaving and dyeing and

writing

and getting this brain

(so often addled by teenaged emotional turmoil

 and the fallout

present in public school)

i return to my heart work

and of course, keep reading.

 how in photographs these things look like the skin

that paper makes

flax and milkweed, for example,

to work on,

to wear for protection.

 and walking slows this mind down

to consider these things

 to see

 up close how beautiful these skins are

here, the blue skin of atmosphere

the red skin of berry

the hidden sinews

of milkweed

twined into threads to weave 

weave a skin to keep warm and safe.

winter sky

the wonderful winter sky

is companion to this walker.

some little snow

 came on.

only a little and very icy

for me that means i won't ski.

 barnhenge is leaning

without a skin to hold it taut

it is leaving, leaning, leaning. 

 and still the clouds

 this old yard table sinks deeper 

 into the snow

 small doings

stitch footprints through the few inches.

 i peep through the one mulberry that lived

from a planting of eight.

 there was a small deer visiting the black eyed susan

seed heads

 not much was eaten

probably not tasty 

(though that one was bold to come close to the house)

 leaving plenty of seed

for dyework and

for the new garden at the place

called home.

going home.

a braid, of sorts

well.

yesterday.

i live about an hour's drive from tupper lake.

to visit the park (adirondack forest preserve)

i drive through vast stretches of forest,

known as the five ponds wilderness area

when i moved to the north country

35 years ago, i landed in star lake

down the road from tupper lake.

where, yesterday, i journeyed

to wind up at the WILD CENTER.

the meander path 

is human made and 

tinted with the iron of our geology

(there were iron ore mines closeby)

and textured with the trees.

  i left the camera in the car

so when i returned later to photograph, the bright light had 

turned to 

rain, so photos were challenging.

 the attention to detail everywhere

shake you up.

 these hold my hand nicely,

which surprised me.

 this!

 it's simple really

 but so beautiful

this architecture...

 so like outside

 in the small theater 

i sat in a fine seat

ready for a talk

given by robin wall kimmerer.

she spoke in story and science words

and read from braiding sweetgrass.

she held a braid of sweetgrass as she spoke to us, 

showed us pictures, 

asked us for our questions,

prompted some answers...

i introduced myself after

 (i'd brought my book)

but i'm afraid my copy is full of book marks and notes 

and from her talk i made more notes

 i did ask her to sign it for me

 she graciously did. 

i thought about her words

all the way home

through cranberry lake

and to my new home near the blue line.

when you get to meet someone you 

respect so much,

well it can be a watershed moment: 

it was.

it became evident to me that this woman 

is a teacher, and it would be such a fine thing

to be her student

at ESF in syracuse.

but for me, i will read her words

try to

remember her words, 

and talk to the plants with the respect that they,

our first teachers

must have.

abundance continuing

gratitude

the internet supplies patterns should you wish 

to make skin mittens

several patterns are keeping me thinking.

i don't need to make mittens just now

but i'm thinking about them.

about how we shape around our own frail skins

protection

to keep warm.

these mittens (below) are for the greenland kayakers

see the similarities

and 

the differences?

can you see why they are made each way?

 winter's arrived 

with snow and ice 

but it's still fairly warm,

37 today.

 the flat light of the short 

(just ever so much longer) days

 is just that.

and the solar panels don't keep us in enough

electricity without a generator boost.

 my red camera lens is hopelessly scratched

so i bought another 

for australia.

 daylight wanes

on days when i am totally unplugged.

 the ice overhang

gallops to the ground now and then.

BOOM!

 and i find that i am in need

of some kami-ito.

a little while a little work

and i'm all set

for some more stitching and shifu.

new year thoughts

were happily frolicking,

almost troublesome, but not really

last night in bed.

i got up once or twice

to hunt pen and paper

to grab thoughts as they flew through.

sketches.

excitement and more,

as some new work begins to make 

teeny tiny rootlets.

i love these beginnings.
~~~
and michelle sent
a link to a very fine and appropriate 
poem.
www.rattle.com/poetry/a-toast-by-wendy-videlock/