Saturday, August 18, 2018
Sense riot
Prepping for my first smudge. Short on sage, I've fluffled this bundle with lavender, and something sharp smelling that might be thyme. I forget what I planted.
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
worlds inside
Grace, you are so right. Each piece a world you can get lost in.
Each piece has a history. A life of service and travel.
Monday, August 13, 2018
Sunday, August 12, 2018
The Perseid meteor showers
Saturday, August 11, 2018
the dog days
Wednesday, August 08, 2018
wonder
When I cleaned up the studio the other day I had a tiny piece of mind on the lookout for the most recent travelers - pieces that had been on display and came home. I know I picked them up from Ginny. Then what?
Bringing groceries in this morning a fat bundle wrapped in a white sheet deep in the trunk of my car eased my mind. Colin brought it in for me later. Everyone is here.
I look at these things and remember what I was thinking about when I made them. The newest ones anyway. These are details from Demons Dance
Bringing groceries in this morning a fat bundle wrapped in a white sheet deep in the trunk of my car eased my mind. Colin brought it in for me later. Everyone is here.
I look at these things and remember what I was thinking about when I made them. The newest ones anyway. These are details from Demons Dance
Monday, August 06, 2018
Saturday, August 04, 2018
Friday, August 03, 2018
Humidity
Sunday, July 29, 2018
summer
I just finished a store update and need to step away from the electronics.
It's been a full week of Life. Very little of that creative.
Sometimes stuff just has to smolder before it catches. I can smell the close, Dreamtime sort, and the only-imagined-in-nightmares kind that so many on the west coast are actually living with. I cannot imagine. I look at the names of the fires, the towns, and cities in the path of danger and then check that against the whereabouts of those I know, even if only through the ether. Always with fingers crossed.
Lately, I've been feeling a little guilty about the weather here. While it seems like the whole country is suffering under abnormal extremes, this backward backwater is enjoying a Summer of old. Sure it gets hot and humid enough to grow mushrooms in your crack. And the thunderstorms roll through as regular as the CSX freight that wakes me each morning at 4:30 am. But none of it has seemed wrong or out of order. Such hubris! It's only the end of July. Shut mah mouth!
We have a hawk family nesting close by. One of the babies - a spotty near-adult- and one of the parents have been working the front yard for something in the grass. We don't have moles. Snakes maybe? The birds look fat and healthy. The squirrels seem fewer and I'm grateful.
It's been a full week of Life. Very little of that creative.
Sometimes stuff just has to smolder before it catches. I can smell the close, Dreamtime sort, and the only-imagined-in-nightmares kind that so many on the west coast are actually living with. I cannot imagine. I look at the names of the fires, the towns, and cities in the path of danger and then check that against the whereabouts of those I know, even if only through the ether. Always with fingers crossed.
Lately, I've been feeling a little guilty about the weather here. While it seems like the whole country is suffering under abnormal extremes, this backward backwater is enjoying a Summer of old. Sure it gets hot and humid enough to grow mushrooms in your crack. And the thunderstorms roll through as regular as the CSX freight that wakes me each morning at 4:30 am. But none of it has seemed wrong or out of order. Such hubris! It's only the end of July. Shut mah mouth!
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
another studio tour
At first, I thought, "Not another glimpse into the perfect world of another artist..." then I saw who the Artist was and knew that I was in for some reality.
Thanks, Dee Mallon, for the refreshing truth. Here's mine.
Judge if you want to. Can anyone remember the last time I cared about that? I'm going to take a stab at JUST the table today, and not just stuff it all into that closet.
Thanks, Dee Mallon, for the refreshing truth. Here's mine.
Judge if you want to. Can anyone remember the last time I cared about that? I'm going to take a stab at JUST the table today, and not just stuff it all into that closet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)