I finally found the battery charger and am starting to light things up.
Just playing at the moment.
Today I went adventuring and found another view of the bay to share. This is from the north end of downtown along the waterfront.
Between rain storms, the light was incredible.
And this is the acid ball that was part of the paper pulp mill that used to be here. It was used in the process of transforming wood into pulp.
It's amazing in it's own way...
Today's walk took me by this...
I am looking at mushrooms/fungi with the thought, can I make a pigment with this? Pretty sure this one won't work.
Yesterday's walk led to a holiday market.
There were temptations and this was mine.
Local wool... how could I say no to something named "flocks and flowers?" And the roving? So soft.
December is so much about shopping in our culture. I've been thinking about my choice to shop locally or from a small business as much as possible. How this isn't possible or doesn't seem possible to some. It's a commitment that has encouraged me towards being creative at times.
I have also been thinking about the word economy and what it means. About home economics.
I am planning on posting everyday this month. Mostly about what is beautiful and joyful in the season...but also acknowledging that this is a time of year that can become complicated with expectations and choices.
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.
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."
"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
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:
Rest and release...I suppose I have been indulging in some. I've been going through days either so involved in what I am doing that there hasn't been room for anything else or so full of thoughts that I can't find the words I want.
Story ... Something I've been thinking about. About a month ago Nancy wrote a post about the things we save and why.
I've been thinking about how story adds value to what we choose to have in our lives. It's not just about sentimentality or usefulness.
I've realized that I am always layering story into and onto what I make and what I choose to save. The deeper I can go, the more connections there are, the more story there is.
The more story there is, the happier I am.*
For example:
Transform...from brick to pigment. I love brick as a pigment because it is a building material. The brick for the pinkish pigment below came from the waterfront; a fragment of location and the history of where I live.
The black is a charcoal ink. Made from plants (blackberry, rose, hazelnut, quince) from my garden or my parent's.
The brown is an ink made from coffee beans. Thinking about how they are seeds. How they came from very far away from here.
And do you see the human figure, making and thinking so hard there is steam coming out of her ears? I didn't see this until I covered the bottom paper with another layer while I was playing.
Thinking about how it is our nature, human nature, to create meaning and story.
*I just finished listening to This is Happiness by Niall Williams. I've also listened to History of the Rain and loved them both. They might not be for everyone as there isn't a linear story line that is plot driven. The story is built up through layers of character development and descriptions of location. Williams writing is beautiful.
Time...today I had some for myself, a day off work.
I decided to not make a to-do list.
It was sunny so I spent most of the day outside.
I pruned hops for baskets and gathered rose hips for ink.
And then picked the last of the dahlias.
There was dyeing with some of the last of the indigo plants...
A paste of leaves and salt rubbed in circles to make polka dots.
It was so good to sit in the sunshine and just play.
I added another layer of color to this silk and wool.
And worked with pigments a bit.
The indigo and lichen lakes; brick and earth pigments.
There has been more poetry too,
Mary Oliver... "The Summer Day" on an autumn day.
"Tell me..."
The space we occupy, the space we move in, space as in outside of Earth's atmosphere.
This weekend I found an interview with Ada Limón which was wonderful and that I need to go back and listen to again.
She has written a poem called, "In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa" that has been engraved on a spacecraft heading for the moon Europa. I was going to wait to post about this (so that I could stitch some stars) but then checking the news, realized that the Europa Clipper was launched today.
It couldn't wait to be shared.
From the poem: "We are creatures of constant awe, curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom, at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow."
Since I didn't get to stitching, I gathered a few star shaped blossoms to share.
And the sun, there shining through, a star...
Thinking about constant awe.
Soup: Carrot, rice, and a lemon flavored olive oil. It needed a little bit of something else but it was fine.
Strawberries:
Last of the season? They are sweet and good.
Stitching: Working again on the sweater that I labeled percentages because it's made of a variety of mostly local yarns.
That and when I think about choosing local and about sustainability, I believe it isn't about perfection but about doing the best I can. So far the materials for this sweater are from Washington state and California, close to where I was born. Some of the yarn I've dyed with indigo (the plant).
Sunshine: We've had a few amazing days but the rain is coming.