bee creative

z...the end but not

My go-to "z" word is probably not one that many others would think of. 

It's zither.

I am not sure that I will ever learn how to play anything on it but fairly frequently I open the case and pluck the strings and that is a very lovely thing for me.  It's enough to bring memories of my grandfather sitting and tuning one of his zithers, of him playing for us. 

 

Z is also about zero waste. 

Very few things are, but I try. 

(This is also something I think about with regards to my grandfather.  One of the things he did regularly was use his single use yogurt containers for seed starting.) 

I've been interested in bog coats for awhile and have finally given it a try after seeing another example come up in my Instagram feed.  My first attempt is going to need some adjusting...the sleeves are way too big.

And...

On Monday I found an article on NPR discussing a new documentary on Leonardo da Vinci that I really want to see.  I loved that they describe him as not seeing boundaries between disciplines; that he explored what he was curious about. 

And...

Something to think about, from Ken Burns one of the makers of the documentary, 

"This is why documentary, to me, is so much more fruitful than making stuff up. And so I have to wait and give some distance. And so I think that what you have to do is exhale a little bit, and we cannot look away. We have to dedicate ourselves to telling complicated stories. And when you do that, then you've got the tools. I mean, there's no greater teacher than the history you don't know, and that allows you to meet a moment with a little bit more courage and a little bit more purpose and determination."

I am going to come back to this. 

and

and...it's part of the alphabet too and seems to call for a few randomly beautiful things. 

Roses blooming in November...it happens sometimes.

and

A few weeks ago when I went down the Shelfmarks rabbit hole I discovered a new poet...Eavan Boland.  The poem that caught my attention is called "Limits"

"The old monks made the alphabet wild: they dipped iron into azure and indigo."

I love the rest of the poem too.

and

"The Poetics of Textiles," a lecture given by Tim McLaughlin/Maiwa. It's all wonderful but this bit...this, this I want to keep track of:

"Why do you make when it takes time, effort and expense?   Because all acts are creative acts.  We make and we tune our making as we go along, like tuning a violin string, tightening it so much, maybe a little more... and if our judgement is off and the string should snap, we restring the instrument, we begin to dream of creating one.  Shearing hard woods, mixing varnish, designing the smooth lines that will let the music out.  We make because it is what hand have always done, because life is a creative act, and because the only meaning that truly exists is the one we make for ourselves." 

 

y...

Of course, there is yarn. 

I love so many yarns but my absolute favorite is hand spun. 

 

This morning another "y" word came to me: yield.

To give the right away to another person ...to produce or provide, a return.

This morning's treasures. 

And if I were harvesting seaweed, today would have been a good day... 


 

I wanted an x-ray for x

I love the idea of x-rays. 

The ability to see inside of something.

But I don't have one to share.

So...some things that are not an x-ray, but another way of seeing.

1. Breaking things apart.

This is a collection on things from my last beach walk.  I thought the clump of gray was a rock but it crumbled easily. 

It's a piece of clay from the bank.

It was easy to grind into a pigment.

2. Looking out the car window on Monday. 

Atmospheric rivers.

The rain was streaming off the windshield.

Looking into the weather?  

3. Layering, vellum doodles over ink doodles. 

I am taking a class from Aris Moore hosted by Carla Sonheim.  It's giving me some ideas...

Not an x-ray, but another way of seeing.  

Another way of understanding.

words, wonder, and wool

I am still reading In Kiltumper.    This morning I found another passage that I need to keep track of.  The passage refers to plants that self seed and come up in unexpected places.  

"These surprises are small reminders that you are part of a living, changing space, and also, that you are not in control of everything, a good thing for me to remember.  Another, that you can't imagine what will lift your heart tomorrow.  But somewhere, today, it is already starting to happen."

The book has also taken me down a bit of a rabbit hole. On Niall Williams' website I found a podcast called Shelfmarks that featured the book.  I am now working my way through the series. It's a mixture of poetry and natural history. 

And...today the indigo that I grew this year (started by my mother),  is lifting my heart. 

I made the pigment on the right with indigo that has been fermented and with calx added.  The one on the left was done with fresh leaves and as a lake pigment.  The lake pigment won't work as a dye (I am pretty sure) but the one made today can be used that way.  I have a copy of John Marshall's book Singing the Blues.  It's been very helpful (for the fermented pigment, no information about lake pigments).

I still have a tiny bit of fresh indigo and might dye part of this wool a third time. I want to use this for a lap quilt and am thinking that some applique on top might be nice.

 

this place (value)

I've been coming to this beach, this place where land and ocean meet for over 35 years. 

There were a lot of logs along the edge of the bay, some large pieces of drift wood and more seaweed than usual.  A huge wind storm on Monday seems to have stirred up things.  

I watched a seal for awhile.  The seal was up and down, making rings while diving since the water was fairly still.

The light was amazing. The water changing color constantly depending on clouds, ripples, and my perspective.

Looking back today, I wonder was the water really this color?  I think so...it's why I took the picture.  I was looking straight down from the boardwalk.  It's shallow there and crushed clam and oyster shells create large white areas that reflect the light differently. 

(The little spot is a leaf.)

The last of the leaves (the yellow is Big Leaf Maple) glowed. 

The contrast between sky and tree sharp. 

I love this place and value it for so many reasons. 

It's a place where species of all kinds live or visit...

A liminal space between wild and not. 

A place of work and play. 

It shapes and reshapes and nurtures me. 

things we share (value)

Tuesday night I stood outside for a moment after coming home. 

The evening was clear and crisp. 

There was a sliver of moon and a flock of geese. 

I could hear the geese first and then there they were, in formation. 

Light from something was reflecting off their wings so I could see them as they went, a shadow moving across the sky. 

It's not the first year I've watched this...it is another season passing.

Earth pigment.

I am about half way through reading In Kiltumper by Niall Williams and Christine Breen. I love this passage that I found...

"Being in rural west Clare, and living the quiet way we do, some days meeting no other person, it is a garden seen by few.  So, it is not grown and cared for with the goal of display.  It is simply the natural extension of our living here, and as close as we get to having a relationship with the earth, not the one with a capital E, not the grand vast ungraspable wholeness of the thing that the steel turbines are said to be saving, but the portion of mud, clay and stone that live with us."

This passage resonates with me so much.  I don't think too much about what others think of my garden; it is about love, nurturing and healing. It is a place to rest and a place to grow; it is about place.  

I am thinking that the geese that have been flying over know more of the earth "with a capital E" than I do. They fly all the way from Russia each year for the winter. 

Today I am going to work in the garden some.  Wendell Berry has come up in my reading of In Kiltumper.  I suppose because of that a fragment of his poetry came to mind, "Having once put his hand into the ground, seeding there what he hopes will outlast him, a man has made his marriage with his place..."  From "The Current."

 

 

local food, comfort food (value)

Red pepper soup (broth, red peppers, pickled onions, herbs, salt and a few potatoes).

I've discovered that adding a few boiled potatoes improves many pureed soups. 

Also that pickled onions are a great add in.

Making more is on the to-do list.

the idea that I always come back to (value)

"It's not about healing the world by making a huge difference. It's about healing the world that touches you, that is around you."  Rachel Naomi Reman

 

U and V

It was a hard choice to move on to U and V.  There is so much more I feel like I could explore with R, S, and T but I am thinking there is a way to do this under the umbrella of "value."

And so for at least this week, maybe longer...I am thinking to post at least one picture a day of something that I value. 

Some days there might be words, other days not so much. 

I am leaving comments on for now, but might turn them off.

Here is today's image: