bee creative

just beginning

Sunrise one day this week:

Layers of light.

Sorting I stacked a paper star on top of a painting I had done.

Hmm...

So here it is another version (three layers, one filter).

Another way to be.

I've shared this before but for those who wonder, the text is:

Crepuscular midnight stands at the road,

Where the stars have spilled from its purse.

You cannot go over the road past the fence

Without trampling the universe. 

"Steppe," by Boris Pasternak

Last night, when I couldn't sleep, I listened to a conversation with Katy Payne (On Being).  The discussion was about listening to whales and elephants.  

As I lay in the dark listening, I imagined there were whales singing deep in the ocean, right then at that very moment.  Elephants rumbling at a pitch just below what humans can hear.  

Something to think about in the middle of the night when it is dark and quiet.

Speaking of whales singing, Payne says:

"And so what that has done for me is to make me feel that what lies ahead to be discovered is absolutely limitless. We are not at the pinnacle of human knowledge. We are just beginning."

 

 

there but not

I think a lot on cloudy days about what is behind the clouds, what we know (or think we know) to be there...sun, stars, moon, planets, birds, the mountains, planes, birds or something else?

  It becomes imagined or remembered at that point.

The full moon as I arrived at home last night.

Focus.

Zoomed in, moon out of focus, color altered some, filtered...

Field notes: Rain, 45 F (not supposed to get any warmer than that), winds from the south, 17 MPH, gust of 24 MPH possible.  Deciduous trees cleared of leaves for the most part.

citizen scientists

After being intrigued by Nancy's post mentioning the blue hour, I've been taking some pictures of the sky just before dawn. 

I first discovered the term citizen scientist (more information about this here) when I was reading A Sideways Look at Clouds, found it again in Ways of Being, and then had someone mention the term in the pigment class I've been taking.

The term reminds me of a book I didn't read but was intrigued by and plan to read someday, The Scientist in the Crib by Alison Gopnik, Andrew M. Meltzoff, and Patricia K. Kuhl.

The scientific method:  Observe, research, hypothesize, test, analyze, and report.

The last instructional/discussion group meeting for my pigment class was last night.  While many of these things can be done without knowing the science, there is so much science involved.

It makes me think of the layer of science that is part of all that we do as humans, of how we experience the world and participate in life.

Field notes:  27 F/17 with the windchill.  Winds NNE 11 MPH, gusts to 20.  Clear skies.

 

someday I might figure out what I am doing

Didn't really expect it, but it's been a beautiful day. 

The last of the tomatoes were picked, a nice handful of parsley, one tomatillo, and this last handful of grapes.

The walnut vat got a really good stir.  No new walnuts to add this year.  The tree I usually collect them from didn't have much and they were very small. I wasn't fast enough to say "save me some anyway" before they were cleaned up.

All the houseplants have been brought in as well as this murky brew of fermenting indigo.  In a certain light it is turquoise. Tomorrow I am going to strain out the leaves, add some calcium hydroxide and see what happens.  I probably should have done this a week or two ago, not sure if it's too old now or if this will still work. There is also just a small handful more of indigo leaves that I might be able to try again with.

Stay tuned!

in a way these are all field notes

Yesterday's lunch break...cloud watching.

It feels like fall. 

It feels good, cooler. Just a little rain this morning.

The yellow shirt went into the walnut vat.  Yellow from the home garden, walnuts from the work garden.

A more wearable color. 

I am stitching up the sides now and considering a touch of the yellow somewhere.

Two new books:  Lab Girl by Hope Jahren and Wild Textiles by Alice Fox.

(How many books can I read at one time?)

Feedback Friday's presentation today was by Alice Fox.  For the first time I decided to watch it in "real time."  It was a great presentation and I have plans!  Tomorrow I am going to gather bindweed to save for a basket.  For today, I twined a flyer that was in the mail into paper yarn. Twined paper makes a great cat toy.

And then there was this, late afternoon...

There isn't supposed to be rain for the next 10 days.  The crocus will be beautiful as long as there isn't a downpour. I need to water.

Sunrise: 6:49 AM  Sunset: 7:20  

 

yesterday morning

hope

I've finished reading A Sideways Look at Clouds and have started reading Horizon by Barry Lopez.

As it seems to happen...I find connections. 

This week's On Being Newsletter features an interview with Craig Minowa and Cloud Cult which led me down a rabbit hole of listening.

In the interview there is a discussion about hope, and then later as I read Horizon I find:

"We, all of us, look back over our lives, trying to make sense of what happened, to see what enduring threads might be there.  My further desire in planning this book was to create a narrative that would engage a reader intent on discovering a trajectory in her or his own life, a coherent and meaningful story, at a time in our cultural and biological history when it has become an attractive option to lose faith in the meaning of our lives.  At a time when many see little more on the horizon but the suggestion of a dark future." 

Thinking about time this morning.

And hope.

Also... a link for the cloud watchers, this is a nice one for identifying the scientific names of clouds. This morning I would say I have Stratus clouds...a gray blanket of low clouds (pure coincidence I am sure).

The forecast is for sunny skies although I wish it would rain just a bit more and water the garden.

 

cloud watching or cat watching

The lighting was horrible last night when I wanted to take a picture of Gibson and Timber so a little layering seemed in order... and I am amazed that one of the cats hasn't fallen off the top of the armoire.

funny little (well relatively) cloud

On yesterday's walk I noticed the funniest cloud.  I am stitching one sort of like it on my Peace and Plenty quilt. 

I think it's a cumulus.

This week's On Being podcast of choice, Ann Hamilton, titled "Making and the Spaces that we Share."

"And that we grow up or we’re educated in a world that ascribes a lot of value to those things that we can say or name. But they’re all these hundreds of ways that we know things, through our skin, which is the largest organ of our body. And, so, you know, my first hand is that textile hand, and text and textiles are woven always, experientially for me. And then, I think that when I first started making things out of cloth, it was like it was another skin. So I was thinking about it as an animate surface, and thinking about it as something that both covers and reveals."

I am finding a lot of value in daily posts right now.  Following a thought, research, noticing, making, gratitude...

 

naming things

Not even finished with chapter two and I am loving Maria Mudd Ruth's book A Sideways Look at Clouds. This book is beautiful not just for the information it holds, but also for how it is written and as an example of someone researching a topic that fascinates them.  Thinking a lot about that. 

One sentence that I feel transcends clouds is this one:

"Through language, strange and nameless clouds can be recognized, discussed, and understood.  Through language, once-distant relationships to clouds can become familiar, intimate, enduring."

Thinking about how a name is something different than a label.  We name things so that we can talk about them. Labels are more for identifying and categorizing.

We need more names and less labels.