Waiting and Walking

Solstice Fire at RavenWood

Overwhelm - that's the truth of it. I held the dream that the break between 

semesters would give me needed quiet and inspiration as I set up the space 

in my new studio and found my roots in creative process again. But I see my sacred, 

winter break slipping fast away as I wait still for the heater to be properly installed 

in the studio - days turn to weeks and I wait. Tomorrow it seems, the man that sold 

me my heater will come and put the piece in place that the gas company forgot to, 

so it will all be safe to use. 

Bigger than this, though, is finding out that a family member is facing a health 

crisis. It seems we have just come up for a bit of air, finding some normalcy after 

losing my niece's husband last year. Without much time to breathe, we've plunged 

deeply into another intense journey. I know that through these dark and 

challenging moments I am being given the opportunity to show up fully and learn, 

but I am truly craving relief. The moment to moment shifts inside me are extreme. 

Taking myself to the land is the most healing balm right now - and always. My nerves 

are soothed by the daily visit and calls of the morning crows and the enormous 

flock of juncos that peck around the moss garden. 

The first day of January was warm following a night of rain showers. The mosses 
glowed green and the light seemed more like spring than early winter. Usually we 
are snow covered by now, at least a few inches. Until yesterday a few snapdragons
still bloomed on the porch. 

I walked slowly, close to the house, noticing small details, 

A rune-like scratching in the red squirrel tree: 

I've been watching this pincushion of moss grow 

lovely reaching rays for months. 

And Pasha has grown his winter ruff. 

Thin ice, just at the edge of freezing. 

The garden looks more like it does in early April 

than January, but the cold came today transforming 

soft and green to hard and brown. 

Though I grumbled and moaned at the start of this post, 

let it be known that my excitement about this new space 

can hardly be contained! Here is the completed studio, 

waiting for heat so the walls can be painted, 

the shelves built and everything moved in. 

Looking from the front door to the back:

The front door and storage loft above. 

Behind the partition wall is a closet. 

The beautiful gas heat stove on a test fire:

Inside, One can tell the temperature of the wood stove by how 

close Pasha sits. Here, he's far, but this morning after his outside rounds in 

the cold 13 degrees, he was practically on top of it!

The house is dressed up with the Christmas tree turned World Tree that 

holds white feather prayers from all who visit. 

and of course, there just wouldn't be magic without owls....

Short Days of Rust & Brown

 I leave school at the end of the day as the light is fading,  

a good audio book in the cd player and astonishing skies 

that might someday find themselves the inspiration for  

paintings. 

My wee cottage is finding its form steadily week by week. Each day the crew 

is here, I am amazed at how much is accomplished. Monday the windows and

 much of the siding was installed, and Tuesday most of the rest of the siding. 

I am beginning to feel what the interior will be like, and when the crew 

isn't around, I climb up the ladder to wander inside and imagine.

Most of the siding is on this south side now (below), and I love the burgundy 

roof. Its a tad more subtle than the red roof on the house: a complex color that 

is hard to pin down. I like that. 

Short November days of rust and brown are here, as are the hunters. Many creatures 

are on the run, searching for food and fleeing. Yesterday, I heard a gunshot nearby, 

and three does sped across the road in front of me. A buck that was traveling near 

them hesitated before slipping back into the trees. 

Last week a small bear crossed the road right in front of the car. I sat admiring the 

thick, inky fur and strong, rooted body as she lumbered by. Soon she will be heading 

into the earth for many months. I've read that many moons ago, some of the old ones native to this land did much the same. Some say that they didn't store up food as once thought, but let the snows cover the lodges, and survived on roots and melted snow

or almost nothing at all save the sweet murmurings of the dreaming earth and the 

warmth from the fire. 

Only when the bear had made her way across the field did I remember that my 

camera was right next to me. She politely paused at a little birch tree to stare back 

at me before dashing off to the cover of pines. 

Most of the animals around my forest are wild, except for Pasha cat, 

but there are plenty of farm critters close by. I did a little goat care for 

my friend, Boo, who's wonderful Stonebridge Farm is a great place to come stay if 

you're passing through. One of the goats peeks over the stall door as I'm about to 

toss in the hay. 

I took a morning walk to check on her Norwegian Fjords, 

and found them grazing in the far pasture. I love their 

multi colored manes and strong form. 

Much of my time away from school is focussed on tasks related to the studio 

project, and lots of looking. The camera helps with that, I often see 

details in the photograph that I missed with the naked eye.  

Here I am merged with a tree - or maybe my true silhouette 

can only be seen in my shadow....

That photo reminded me of this:

This photo, 

of this:

 Decaying milkweed pods and what's left of a tomatillo husk 

took me to ground to marvel at light and shadow and textures. 

The biggest accomplishment of late is the shrinking pile of wood.

It is now ALL neatly stacked in the shed - four cords - which is sort of 

a lot to stack alone. If you look closely below, you'll see a 

luna moth on the corner of the shed (July photo of the pile).  

Tomorrow I head off to spend Thanksgiving with family. There is 

a list as long as my life of things I am grateful for, so I will say only 

that I am grateful for everything - even for the hard things, for they shape 

me in ways I never expect and help to smooth out my rough edges. 

If you've been following my blog for a while, you might recall that  

my niece's 31 year old husband died suddenly last Thanksgiving, so 
this year we will be with that - with her - for she is, 
of course, 

with that 
every single moment.