solstice yesterday

sorting out how to be in a new, small, pre-conceived space is not a smooth path. after living 34 years in one house. how i appreciate the great mother snapping turtles and painted turtles who carry around their house/armor/home/protection AND burdens without which they can’t live. i am like them in so many ways.

she was leaving the edge of my dirt road this morning,   having just left a cache of her new eggs in the road-side sand.  another edgy female

she was leaving the edge of my dirt road this morning,

having just left a cache of her new eggs in the road-side sand.

another edgy female

she had nothing much to say to me

she had nothing much to say to me

morning was bright and warming, deerflies were few just then, so i could spend some time saying “hey”. she wasn’t interested. she aimed across the road and toward the wetlands there, the road having long ago bisected a marsh. we both use that road, she once a year, me most days.

i imaging being like a turtle, though probably like a calmer painted. i’m surely attracted to the snappers. their shells always look like they are an afterthought, never seem to be quite large enough for their mighty athletic legs, tail and especially neck. whether it’s a beak or a nose i stay far away from the mouthparts, i’ve witnesses how she can clamp on and hold. hard.

her shell is smooth and gently appliquéd with colors, a bit of a spit polish.

her shell is smooth and gently appliquéd with colors, a bit of a spit polish.

it’s not all turtles here. last week a bobcat guided us along the roadside, intent on bobcatness and moving next to the tall grass, until something hinted, “ leave now”. we had a very good, long look at this one, each muscle and auburn hair said “predator. working. leave alone”. turning away i saw a bobolink looping across and into the meadow, two bobs, different sorts.

learning how to make my summer, now that i’ve moved down the road a piece, is also challenging, but our little bookish group got together this week, and we did a few contact prints, cotton, linen, and papers: watercolor, hemp, gampi/mitsumata and it was grand to have my hands MAKING again. my fingers delightfully stained, my heart content. we plan to document some of our making this time, so there may be four books when we’re done.

a spot i used to swim at is now opened to the public and someone left a cairn

a spot i used to swim at is now opened to the public and someone left a cairn

there is a rift in the hillside where ochre is spilling out. i will test that richness soon.

there is also a hole, maybe a cave.

i still don’t know how to be, here, how to live correctly. feels like living in a rock tumbler now which disorients me. and outside my little haven of peace the crazy political world battles on, with insane beings making bad choices. me, i’ll trust turtles and bobcats and bobolinks. the truth tellers. and i’ll endeavor to learn.