Just This

Hike it in

Sweat it out

And all is right in the world.

Sketchbook Writings

~ From my Sketchbook Writings, October 8th 2012 ~

It began like any other weekday morning.

7:15.  Cold black nose on my chin.  Sunlight in harsh vertical lines across the mirror.

And somewhere between slipping on dirty jeans and grinding coffee beans, that light turned sour.

Perhaps sour is too easy of a word.  Perhaps crushing existential crisis is more apt.

Shaking fingertips.  The taste of bile.

So naturally I did the dishes left over from last night.  Recklessly clanged vintage plates.  Angrily chopped a pear.  Beat the hell out of a pomegranate.

It's a lovely misguided logic, this belief that if the body spins in busyness, the mind will have no time to wander dark hallways.

So I poured almonds into a dry pan on medium heat.  Picked up dog food bowls.  Tidied the floor.

From outside BC called in a hash whisper.

Out front, in the tallest cedar, the one with ruddy bark that leaves bits of itself all over the cars, there was a dash.

A squawk.  A clammer of claws on limbs and feathers in evergreens.

Not more than twelve feet up, a young peregrine craned her neck back and forth looking for the squirrel she had cornered.  What ensued was a desperate dance for life, the squirrel spinning around the trunk, freezing under thick branches.  The peregrine plunging perilously through foliage, swinging tight to the cedar with a pivot off a single clawed foot.  They spun, danced, screeched, froze, crept, leapt up and down that tree for who knows how long.  Twice she sailed out close enough for me to brush a wingtip or feel that banded tail.  

I whispered to BC, 

"There are almonds burning on the stove,"

but I didn't move.

I was holding my breath for her, in her awkward juvenile attempts.  I wanted her strong, I wanted her well fed, but more than anything I wanted her to come back and visit me in this odd urban oasis of mine. 

* * *

Odonatas

Some of the very first pieces of silver work I offered up were my Odonata earrings.  Wings, freshly sprouted, ready to embark upon a new adventure, airy, delicate, bright and of course, turquoise.  I kept a pair for myself, a reminder of where I began, of spreading my own wings to take that leap.

Lately the wings have been back.

They spring up from the corners of the sketchbook, they layer subtly in the background of the paintings and now, they have found their way into the silver.

I think this is no random coincidence.  If everything cycles and breathes, in, out, summer, winter, silence and song, then naturally that itch along my spine is a new set of wings.

I made these ones for you, just in case you need a little lift on the wind current when you jump.

(Odonata Rings and Necklace)

(Nevada Variscite, Royston Ribbon Boulder Turquoise, Sterling Silver, Copper and YES, why that IS enamel!)

(heading into the shop shortly...)

A Day in the Life of The Dove (All Things Crisp and Bright)

[A photographic account of a single day in my life, a morning out, an afternoon in, an evening quiet]

- Tuesday October 2nd 2012 -

7:14 am 

7:49 am 

8:57 am

 9:07 am

 9:15 am

 9:54 am

10:36 am

 11:08 am

 11:15 am

 12:25 pm

 12:57 pm

 1:47 pm

2:01 pm

 3:02 pm

3:59 pm 

4:54 pm

 6:08 pm

 6:52 pm

6:57 pm

8:00 pm

8:47 pm

10:54 pm

Bonsoir!

~ Umber ~

Being Out and Returning In

I needed to get out the city today, to breath in the crisp air of autumn swirling down from the mountains and feel the fullness of my stride covering un-humanized land, rich with bear scat and elk prints and a plethora of woodpeckers flashing white rumps in the sun.
There is something about miles of land that causes all the little shutters in my chest to fly open and the wild wind whistles through like the rustle of aspens on the riverbanks.
I need that.  Truly I do.
* * *

I should mention I'm home!  The weekend was exactly what it needed to be: laughter until my cheeks ached, phenomenal dining, authentic sharing of heart, two women whom I'm honored to count as dear friends, one babe with a grin the size of Texas, and plenty of whiskey all around.

It's such an interesting life, such an interesting dichotomy:
True community deepens my heart, refocuses my purpose, brings me laughter and a sense of "I am not alone in this crazy thing called life."
Wild solitude broadens my heart, clears my head, brings me bliss and a sense of "I belong here with my feet on this earth."

I suppose I just want the best of both worlds.
I suppose that's not a bad thing to want.
* * *

It's a rambling sort of afternoon, easy and thoughtful.  I'm grateful.  I'm thirsty.  I'm in the middle of painting a gray fox and two quails.  I have piles of sketches littering the metal bench: necklaces, earrings, odonata wings abound, more than I'll be able to make this week.  I've been trying to grab a photo of the cheekiest squirrel who scrambles up and down the juniper, boldly spying in on me (BC keeps faux threatening to buy a pellet gun, I keep faux threatening to buy a squirrel feeder.  Either way, we've got money on Freyja catching one before the year runs out, little huntress that she is).

It's good out there people.  It's good in here too.

I'd love to hear what you're up to today!