A Spiral Gift that Gifts

"Mystery Trees"

I've so enjoyed traveling around the world reading the many offerings of the Moveable Feast. I just checked in to The Drawing Board where Terri is frequently updating the

 list of "artisan bloggers" who are participating in the conversation. I feel a deepening within this web community, and I hope that conversations will sprout up again when 

the next inspiration seed is planted! 

 I feel more woven into the web of late. In part maybe because I'm reaching that year mark of blogging, I am finding my niche, so to speak, and have journeyed around 

enough to have found my touchstones of inspiration. One such place is Jude's world

 over at Spirit Cloth. I've been enriched in many ways over there, at first a voyeur, reading the fascinating ongoing conversations about stitch and cloth and dyeing and patterns - and so much more- and eventually joining in. When I sent Jude 

a spiral drawing for her birthday last week, she posted it without saying much about

 what it was. The conversation that resulted was a treasure for me. I visited the 

comments often, reading the responses to the drawing, the wonderings, the what ifs, 

the imaginings, the ahhh, I recognize this, and the final reveal when someone pointed

 out (especially to me!) that the "thank you" underneath the drawing was a link to me here. That spiral gift has gifted me back tenfold! To read a bit, go here. 

Thank YOU Jude!

"Rose Dawn"

My last few paintings are rosy colored, inspired by some stunning dawn skies. 

I might have missed one particularly breathtaking sky had Pasha cat not come to 

curl under my chin one morning. I opened my eyes long enough to see a brilliant 

pink sky and to bring it back into dreaming with me. 

"Morning"

Slowly, the size of the paper grows larger as I find my familiar strides within the 

process again. Spirals and meanders are being replaced by distant mountains and 

misty skies on the wall. I'm posting these, though the color seems much more intense against the green of my blog page. It will take me time to see which ones are 

successful. These few are much too new for me to know yet. 
(click on them to make them larger and get a more accurate color sense)

A melting, flowing, snowing, icing, hailing and everything else including thunder

 and lightening weather pattern has added some excitement to the days. 

I really could skate on this!

I traveled to teach yesterday on frozen roads, grateful for my Swedish studded 

snow tires gripping the ice, and my neighbor/plow guy's father who came 

back with his little front end loader to move snow away from the studio.  

I'm still finding winter beautiful, though the grumbling from many around

 here is getting very loud. 

Visiting me most mornings these days is a gang of turkeys. I've discovered they 

can also be called a rafter, or a gobble - the colloquial name for turkey gang. 

One evening, as the sun was setting, they all flew in short bursts into 

nearby trees, settling themselves on the branches to roost for the night.  

They travel off in a gobble-train, silently bobbing their way through deep snow, disappearing one by one into the forest. I catch glimpses of them as they go, 

dark shadows following the leader, the wise old one knowing I am watching, 

though I do not make a sound.  

In the Land of Winter

In the land of winter, 

birch trees glow in gold morning light, 

and hemlocks bow to greet the ice-bound land. 

Dense 

snow-quiet, 

cracks open 

with the clattering of iced-bone branches. 

Warm sunlight pries away the grip of ice.

One by one, small, half-tube bits, 

clink down to the crusted snow.

Blessed with ice magic here at RavenWood, 

and grateful that it has been gentle.

Not too thick, and no high winds 

has saved us from power outages. 

For me, the loss of electricity

means hauling water, cooking on 

the wood stove, and using the "Luggable Lou". 

Not to mention daily forays on snowshoes 

to a hole dug way down in the snow 

to empty said bucket. 

Sparkling moments, crystalline forms, 

and expanses of blue-white landscapes:

I am under the Ice Queen's enchantment. 

Still awaiting the arrival of the new heater, 

my studio sits, frozen and buried in the snow. 

A quickening within me promises

the birth of new work, though, as it is 

with my cycles of creativity, 

exactly what it looks like is a mystery. 

 I balance walking, shoveling, and bringing in

 wood with afternoon tea and a good book. As the 

semester progresses, there will be more school-prep, 

more student needs, more demands on my time.

For now, I find myself in the moment,

feeling the weight and texture of the wood I carry, 

and my body's appreciation of gentle movement 

and deep breathing. 

Things on my long list don't seem as urgent as they

did a month ago. I am trusting in divine timing 

and the profoundly beneficial gift of 

rest and regeneration. 

"Blue Night", watercolor on paper, 4"x4"