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Mark-Making

2 Jun

We’ve been doing it forever.  “It” being the compulsion to record life and events in one way or another.  From cave drawings to tattoos, from petroglyphs to virtual signage, mark-making has reflected both the presence as well as the exploits of humans.

It has occurred to me that eco printing is another form of mark making.  On the surface, printing with leaves may appear to only reflect variety of species.  Or a season in the cycle of nature.  Eco printing may appear to only record minutiae as unimportant–perhaps– as the position of a particular leaf on a particular tree.   Or  more important details such as drought.  Flooding.  Quality of soil.  Weather patterns.  But in fact, prints embody these things and much more.

Below are details of prints completed yesterday.  They hold within their beauty a profound and bitter-sweet sadness.  They mark the day Trump decided it was better to get a good “deal” than to defend the environment.  And not only did he withdraw from the Paris (not Pittsburgh) Accords, but he did so on the back of many flagrant and bold-faced lies spun to defend his decision.

So yes, I will remember yesterday–I’ll remember what happened the day these marks were made.  But most importantly I’ll remember the “old saw”–that some people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sacred Hoop: prayer flag #2

26 Jan

I guess I’ll do this until frustration with the mechanics of blog-world once more drives me nuts. In six short months I have forgotten every THING I knew about WordPress. What should have been a quick download of this morning’s eco dyed prayer flag has taken almost an hour. Beginning with i-pad pic, getting it off the i-pad to the desktop, dealing with the google drive, wordpress not recognizing the google drive, downloaded a pic and now cannot insert text above it. Deleted pics, inserted text first then again the pics. Now can’t figure out why photos in preview mode won’t give me that little hand-finger icon so they can be enlarged.

And wondering all the while–“why am I doing this?” and really–I don’t have a good answer. But I will continue making these prayer flags–messages on the wind, sending out concerns, hopes and prayers trusting they’ll be carried where they may help some thing in some way.

Listen Grandfather Where I Stand

Hey-a-a-hay! Lean to hear my feeble voice.

At the center of the sacred hoop,

you have said that I should make the tree to bloom.

With tears running O Great Spirit, my Grandfather,

with running eyes I must say….

The tree has never bloomed.

Here I stand, and the tree is withered.

Again I recall the great vision you gave me.

It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives….

Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds!

Hear me, that the people may once again go back to the sacred hoop,
find the good road, and the shielding tree.

~Black Elk

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Lessons in Dy(e)ing

1 Apr

I love saying this —dyeing. Because, well because it lends itself to a wonderful play-on-words. Dyeing. Dying. Love that both are so illustrative of transformation. Both so potentially beautiful. And I also appreciate that with each, intention is required to achieve the results I see in my mind’s eye. Intention and discipline.

I’ve played around this week with dyeing rope bowls. Dyeing rope wrapped in white cotton and also dyeing rope bowls without a fabric cover. Madder, alkanet and indigo are the three dye baths I’ve managed to concoct. I don’t know what to think about the bowls. Not sure it’s a good medium for this experimentation.

Anyway, these are the bowls to date. The purple is alkanet, orange is madder, and indigo is the lighter blue. The navy blue is indigo overdyed with alkanet.bowls1

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Looking at the last two images, and this one (commercial cloth commercial dye)frond

reminds me of another aspect of this process I LOVE. Being able to see this initial spiral each and every time a bowl begins. And then following it until the rope runs out. Complete.DSC02532

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Possum, Turnips and Spirit of the Garden

30 May

In the garden. Before sun up. With dog companions. In an early-morning-green trance, shortlived that it was. During the night a possum found the cantaloupe in the havaheart trap. And there possum sat–in the trap–and the dogs were totally in freaked-out-by-possum mode. So. Back inside with the dogs. Brief google on possum. No reason to move him…just needed to open the door. He was hissing and baring teeth and sitting on the mechanism that kept the door open so I had to find a branch to string through the trap to keep the door ajar. And then it wouldn’t leave. Didn’t exactly belly up, just reticent to move…

And later, picking turnips for tonight’s dinner–
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Turnips and greens, vidalia onion, and sweet potato–baking in the oven in one of those clay Romertopf pots–a thrift store score from years back.

And while the possum drama was unfolding, spirit of the garden emerged –so here it is, awaiting stitching.

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And another. Unsual for two cloths to step forward in one day. But this one, I think an earth guardian, witnessing the stormy weather–
thunder and rain.

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Essential things

24 May

OK. This cloth, the spring garden cloth, stalled out ever so briefly and then asked for what is essential to a garden. Wind and air. Rain and water. Sunlight. Earth. Soil. Sky.

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Expressing Essence

21 May

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I pick up boy-in-purple-shirt after school. Observe completion of homework. Listen to his interpretation of the day. Sometimes offer opinions, but not very often. He’s finding his own way through it all.

There are challenges to this routine. I question–should a first grader have homework? And if so…should it be done right after school? Or later? After play? But we’ve fallen into this routine because it seems to work. “Later” doesn’t. His focus, which can be tentative at best, is near impossible to harness “later.” So.

I’m thinking about the beginning of the year…months ago…the learning-to-read process. A struggle. Math a different story. I remember thinking, “I wonder at what point I’ll be useless with the math component?” It won’t be long. But reading…well I can read. In fact I love to read…but accept that it’s not something everyone loves. Including this boy. He does it. He does it just fine. Now. But he’d rather be doing other things. I get it.

So the progression of reading material over this past year–from the early stuff–pretty boring — to Mary Pope Osborne’s Magic Treehouse series has been interesting to watch. And yesterday, the completion of a fantasy book about the Japanese poet, Basho. At the end, I asked if he’d like to try his hand at haiku. OK. I would transcribe. First effort was more of an epic tale. Shorten it a bit, I suggested. OK. A condensed version of the first. How about just pulling out the essential feeling you want to express? That resonated. So a haiku-of-sorts–
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The words. Yes, a from-the-heart sentiment–essence distilled to a few words. But I also had the privilege of hearing the words spoken. Heard the love. Heard the sincerity. The honesty. So now it has me thinking about that …about essence, about distilling expression to the most basic common denominator.

The process of expressing through cloth seems similar to creating a haiku–with cloth substituting for words. But the challenge is the same. Distilling form to essence.

This green cloth, a sampler of many pieces of naturally dyed fabrics–earthy. And the intention– to capture the essence of the life force of the earth right now–the small patch of earth behind my house where a lovely garden vibrates with energy–
It started here:
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then changes–

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like the creation of a haiku–writing and re-writing–editing–paring down and re-doing–throwing away and starting over–pieces added, removed, rejected.
Still searching for truest way to depict the essence of something nearly indescribable.

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The Influence of Season

18 May

I find I’m tired of my own words. Tired of their limitations. So for now, no words– just these images to remind me of how it all looked. How the earth smelled. How the soil felt in my hands. How the earth felt on my feet. How cloth responded in kind.

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Moving Forward

9 Apr

I almost said “progress” but changed my mind. Negative association with the word. Progress. We’re told that so much about 21st century life is “progress” and I usually wonder, “REALLY?”

Juno is moving forward. Coming out of her terror. Still a long way to go. These pictures almost capture her fear and skittishness. They almost capture the chronic fight or flight mode that’s running her engine. And they do show me that in 6-going-on-7 days, she’s made some major shifts. And so has Hopi, who was not at all happy, initially, to share me and here and toys.

Two days ago. She boxed herself into a corner. Very, very slowly she withstood touch.

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And this morning–really rowdy before breakfast. Insistent that I listen and feed. Now. Standing her ground.waiting for breakfast

and later:

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So. There is comfort here for all of us. For Hope because she is beginning to realize that she is not being up-staged. For Juno who is beginning to believe that “maybe” she can BEGIN to trust. For me, because there is a lot about this experience that is less than optimal. Juno is not house trained. She won’t or at least doesn’t go to paper. She cannot go outside yet. Fill in the blanks. But I’m seeing the progress when I review these pics…

and here…FINALLY…and wow, what a trip

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And this, I just noticed, is Post 99.

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Not Much Cloth, but…

9 Mar

a lot of other stuff going on.

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Hope is the same color as this wool Pendleton blanket. It was my mother’s. She washed/dried it once by mistake and it shrunk a lot. But still she used it for cover in her last years. The blanket was a gift from her best friend–a fine woman named Lucy.  I find the blanket all over the place. She travels with it. Like Linus. But never too far.

Seedlings are getting ready for the earth and I’m waffling back and forth–too early? too cold? go for it? We’re having a few nights this week in the mid 20’s. Maybe after that. The 10-day forecasts on weather.com help. But I wonder if it’s made me a bit less sensitive to the nuances that indicate how it might be. Sky color. Buds. Robins. Shadows. Birds. Worms.  Soil temp. Smells. Knee/shoulder aches?

Last week I experimented. Set out one each of very tender spinach, broccoli, lettuce, radicchio and kale. That night the temp was 24 degrees. They survived but have not recovered. And the rest–outside today, beginning the hardening off process:
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Some amazing women are working the garden with me this year. “Dirt devas.” This is where we are now:
rows ready for seedlings–rich soil separated by straw and leaves. Soon–cabbage, broccoli, kale, collards, swiss chard, turnips and potatoes. This is 1/3 of the garden. Spring garden/fall garden. The rest of the space will house tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, beets, lettuce, radicchio, radishes and sweet potatoes.

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and outside the fenced in garden–the start of an herb bed and a modified hugelkultur bed for winter squash.
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This cloth I’m liking. Haven’t added much except rows of stitching and noticing the shift in my attention. From cloth to dirt. Looking for the common thread.DSC00787

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Taiji Cove Complete–Making room for garden thoughts

3 Feb

For the Dolphins of Taiji Cove

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It seems a few weeks early for robins–but I heard one last Thursday and saw two in the back yard yesterday. Garden thoughts now. Actually, last summer’s garden took the wind out of my sail. From July on it was a disaster–constant heavy unseasonable rain–blight, mildew, rot–no yield whatsoever after the initial bounty. But the ancient stirring begins. A need. An itch almost. And Grace has excited me with her postings on permaculture–hugelkultur specifically. I looked into it. It makes sense. Use everything. I do that for the most part, but I’m thinking that hugelkultur mounds just might drain better–give the plant roots a break if we have the same kind of wet season this year. I looked into it–mound building –layers upon layers–starting with logs, branches and twigs layered with a variety of organic matter.

The neighbors behind me were cutting down trees and I sat here dumbfounded, watching as the backyard view changed. Watched until the space opened enough so that I could see their house. Watched while the sky opened up. Watched the tree cutters jumping over the fence to remove everything that fell into this yard. Then found myself running out–running up the hill–stop, wait, please–and they were stunned. Quizzical. “Leave the huge branches? Leave the small limbs? Leave everything?” Yes. Leave it all. Please.

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The long big branches are too heavy. Will  be cut into manageable pieces after I get the chain saw fixed. And this one with the hole–locust–not good for hugelkultur as locust takes FOR EVER to rot. We used locust for fence posts in WV. They will be in the ground long after everything else decays–but good for critter habitats.hole in locust

And on Sunday, Imbolc and the Chinese New Year–I started one trial huglekultur mound. It’s for gourds–it’s outside the garden proper and it will be vulnerable to the neighbor groundhogs. But I’ll fence it off before then. Circle it with netting. The mound is about 4′ in diameter–dug 6″ into the ground and sits up about 6″ in its unfinished state.   Because it needs to be watered. I read each successive layer should be watered. Not thinking I dragged out the hose and turned on the spigot. Nothing. Then the sound of water. In the basement. The hose was frozen and the pressure blew out the inside water line–into the basement. Hose is thawing. Keeping an eye on the basement. And last night it rained like crazy.

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Leaves
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Greens
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More leaves then sod turned dirt side up–waiting for more—straw, compost, topsoil…DSC00649

and worm’s eye view of a humble beginning:
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Heading to Sow True Seeds on Wednesday–Asheville’s own wonderful GMO-free/heritage seed company DSC00642

That’s enough for now–except to say “thank you, Grace”– and to also share this hugelkultur link:

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Taiji Cove Cloth–complete reversal

31 Jan

It wasn’t working.  Was that it?  Or was it that I couldn’t work from that place?   I said the portal was there.  An escape hatch.   An ingress to a gentler realm.  And I thought about the cloth’s direction a lot. But every stitch in cloth seemed to be reinforcing a horrible situation–and I realized I had to dwell in the land of “what could be” rather than reinforcing “what is” in this particular case.  So that’s where we are.  A new world for dolphins. A safe, free world

There will be a lot more kantha, and there will probably be a hand.  But Delphinius, the Dolphin constellation is intact and I’m  much more comfortable in my own skin.  The cloth is holding memory of what was there.  The anger.  The rage.  Despair.  The horror, even.  And I think that’s good.  That cloth holds memory.  But there’s more room now for hope and change to enter.  To move forward.  To replace the old paradigm with a new vision.

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There was a comment on my last post. I don’t have tv. But there’s a program–“Katie” as in Katie Couric. And this week one program was dedicated to “The Taiji Cove Controversy.” I was able to watch it via internet and highly recommend it–it was encouraging. Uplifting, even, because the world IS paying attention. And the people interviewed feel we’re right at that tipping point where enough public outrage is going to swing the balance in favor of the dolphins. You may have to sit through a 15 second bladder control commercial–but it’s worth the wait. http://katiecouric.com/videos/the-taiji-dolphin-controversy

We heard that this was a cultural tradition. And I was thinking in terms of centuries of exploitation. But no. 1969. That’s when it started. And it REALLY started in order to capture dolphins to sell to sea-world type places.

And it was a week of two snow days and two late-start days. A cold week. And here in NC, a black-ice week. My driveway goes uphill. I can stand at the top and move to the bottom w/o taking a step. But it was a good week. Days to observe busy little hands and eyes fascinated with captured bubbles in glass. I have several of these. Two were my mothers–they look like candies trapped for all eternity in a world of glass. But this one–this gold globe, this is his favorite. He can talk about it for hours. The beauty of it when the sunlight shines through. A personal solar system.

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For the Dolphins of Taiji Cove

23 Jan

This cloth is moving along on its own volition. It calls to me when I’m doing other things. Insistent. And each time I return to it, I’m glad that I listened–not to my mind–but to the cloth’s voice. This morning I was looking at trees from a vantage point on the floor. Squinting. Making a peep hole with my fist–a tiny viewing mechanism. I scanned the branches, limbs, spaces in-between. Noticed things. Shapes, curves, lines. Some of the branches had that beautiful curve–the dolphin’s-back curve. But the spaces in-between are what really captured my attention–and I started seeing constellation diagrams.cropped

Which of course led me to wonder–is there a dolphin constellation? And yes, there is. And it’s called Delphinius. There are several legends from Greek Mythology that explain how this constellation came about–and in each case, Dolphin was a helper to humans. A helper. I’m thinking about that now.

The red on the cloth represents two things. First, it’s arranged in the general shape of Delphinius. And it’s red–it’s red because blood is red.  And that seems to be what we do to beings that come to help us.
And again, as with Starfish, a portal exists. A departure point. The point where two spheres touch , creating an opening.  Portal to another realm.  And I left the twigs with the shell center.  It reminds me of how we stick symbols in the ground to remind each other that something BIG happened here.DSC00612

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