yesterday i taught a group
of adult hospice workers
how to make star books and an origami book.
they were a lovely bunch.
i came home so happy to have been asked to help non-art folks
make something with their hands
that maybe they can pass along.
one tiny book,
that becomes an ornament.
that i passed on.
somehow it seemed to be a photo-free day.)
it creates a book that has change integral to the structure.
someone i know called this kind of thing a trick with a hole in it.
transformation is a peculiar thing.
these flip flops
have been on the roadside for months
i don't know the story
but the snow increases intrigue.
the barn continues its disappearing act
exposing the spot where the kids played and played
i loaded the mow with hundreds of bales of hay
that i hauled off the meadow after baling
what memories this building has
30 years of our memories,
and many more before
because many of the framing timbers were recycled.
it's locking into cold now.
ice forming its own contour map.
such a huge crop
of wild grapes here this year.
and i've been gathering milkweed bast
gin sent me some milkweed bast, too,
a bit different than mine
and this was another batch,
field retted until there is quite a bit of gray.
cooked and ready for beating.
these days walking has been rather gloomy
which is what happens.
a ring around the sun
as it sets
i saw it.
two days ago.
the cows, as ever, watch
their sweet muck scent startling,
rich in the coldness.
they watch me
i speak to them
sometimes the calves are skittish.
sometimes there is little
interest in me.
our concerns are perhaps not so different
food, shelter, joy, daylight.
december moves into solstice.