You don’t need a weatherman to know….

28 Jul

End of July.

A hike at Craggy Pinnacle on Friday–on the Blue Ridge Parkway outside Asheville. Misty, foggy morning starting to break when we reached the top. crggy gardens I’m reading Lee Smith’s work now–her novels that focus on life in these parts. Oral History for one. True to place.

So–Two things from an on-line class I’m taking with Jude Hill–“considering weave.” Threads were compliments of my sister–my sister the weaver–I mean as in a real weaver. A vintage weaver. A weaver of heirloom patterns. Big looms with many moving parts. Mind-boggling designs laid out on paper. I marvel…because we’re related…and because I clearly didn’t inherit the “weaving” gene and everything else that goes with it.

DSC01393 This tapestry figure is about 1.5 inches wide and about 5 inches long. I spent many hours on it. Asking myself from time to time during the process, “Why?” I still don’t know why. And I don’t know why I continued except that after a point, I was curious to see the result.

This one feels more like it. Kinda wacky. Loose. Unexpected in a way. The figure in on a pilgrimage. Arms and antlers to follow. Or not.

It’s been one of those odd summers for me. Quiet. Internal. A lot of processing and “looking at.” Then looking at what comes up while I’m looking. Following breath.

When I started this little not-much-of-a-post, an old Dylan line was running through my head…”you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” I deleted it at the beginning, but it wants to be heard.

14 Responses to “You don’t need a weatherman to know….”

  1. Mo Crow July 28, 2014 at 3:00 pm #

    oh I like that wildy weaving with the B&W legs, he looks like a corn harvest spirit in the making, what a wild thing!


    • Patricia July 28, 2014 at 6:43 pm #

      yes–spirit of harvest, beginning a pilgrimage. i had thought about weaving its head and think i will. something so organic about the weave.


  2. karmadondruplhamo July 28, 2014 at 6:08 pm #

    i wrote a long comment…where did it go????????????????? i wait a while, see if it


    • Patricia July 28, 2014 at 6:43 pm #

      i don’t know? but hope it gets here. love


  3. sue cater July 28, 2014 at 6:53 pm #

    thinking of your thinking…..


    • Patricia July 28, 2014 at 6:54 pm #

      and right now, i’m smiling, knowing you’re thinking….


  4. sue cater July 28, 2014 at 6:53 pm #

    thinking of your thinking….


  5. karmadondruplhamo July 28, 2014 at 7:09 pm #

    well, i must have done something or, not…

    and really, this doesn’t need to be said, but
    when i used to read novels i would become totally OF the story. my life would become
    inconsequential, just go through the motions until i could turn the next page.
    i know nothing of this writer but looked her up, looked up Oral History and i can
    imagine this being the case here…her vivid characters, compelling story. and i look
    at the photograph at the beginning of the post, thinking of you standing there last
    Friday….in this WONDERLAND of a Surreal Place on the planet where people lived
    intense and fierce lives in beautiful and daunting surroundings…made their way…

    so i would think…No Wonder you are quiet. No wonder.

    the actual weave, well congratulations…i will leave weaving till my next life

    but the Pilgrim being…is You…even tho woven, i wait for the antlers and more glimpse
    of the journey
    but back to the first photograph….people lived and died in this Place like the characters
    in your book, and i would guess there is still the mumble of these stories, lives, echoing


    • Patricia July 28, 2014 at 7:28 pm #

      yes. that is it. the sense of place here. the sense of beings who once walked these hills. still present. the presence of Cherokee energy–Sha-co-na-qe, Cherokee for place of blue smoke. it’s all so palpable, visceral, right here, right now. and it humbling and quiet-making.

      we sat in a picnic kinda area. a bald mountain glade. probably cleared by some settler a long time ago. and i thought i heard the sound mules make when they’re hitched to a plow.

      I look at these mountains and valleys, and cannot really imagine what it would have been like. to arrive here. with little food. and no shelter. to begin a life. a person can get pretty hungry waiting for a garden to grow. and that may have been the least of their challenge. but the main thing, the main sense, is the they’re-still-here quality that hangs in the air.

      antlers to follow. and just read that the plants are pepper. good.


      • Patricia July 28, 2014 at 7:32 pm #

        and grace, i need to say a. bit more. the Cherokee. how they too were replaced. moved out. settlers wanted in so they came in. and i can’t help but think of things today. immigrants wanting into our country. why is that different from white settlers wanting native land? and the problems in the middle east. there’s a common thread here that i’m trying to grasp. and i’m wondering how the same m.o. can be right one time and wrong another. not trying to politicize things–just wondering.


        • karmadondruplhamo July 28, 2014 at 7:56 pm #

          just quickly….will think about the other response a while, but
          this second…there IS a thread. And it’s NEVER right. Ever.
          to Displace is never right. Has never been never will be. There
          is room for small lives. small good plain lives. Life Enough.
          and it’s not politicizing, it’s human rights. the right to Be and
          then the respect to Come To, with a hope to Be. to find ways
          to Fit in to the existing energy, maybe give what you have…

          i really love that first photograph. it pulls me in.
          more later


  6. Liz July 29, 2014 at 8:45 am #

    Oh, you have so captured my own musings while Considering Weave: “Why? … And I still don’t know why … But I’m curious.”
    Sometimes it’s just about the journey I s’pose … and you seem to have found some wonderfully quirky companions along the way. Enjoy!


  7. debbie.weaver July 29, 2014 at 9:01 am #

    Love your wacky creature and the woven ground


  8. Mo Crow July 30, 2014 at 3:00 pm #

    the guys played subterranean homesick blues last night & Dennis remembered all the words without the placards, I was amazed!


I appreciate your feedback:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: