Towards another edge ...

how to dive in

Be afraid. Tremble at the thought. Sleep poorly. Eat potato chips in

nervous succession.  Get angry when you least expected it. Feel

impatient at small talk, how much it delays and distracts. Yearn

for silence, that necessary blank canvas. Take note of the way clouds steal

across the sky, shaping themselves into the faces of celebrities, or a rabbit.

Find yourself, unexpectedly, advancing toward an edge, electric and unsure.

Notice the texture of the ground under your feet - loose pebbles, hot granite.

See what you do when no one's watching, how you lean in, how you want more,

aching for that first kiss of wind on your face, that smile of sun, beaming.

Catch your breath, close your eyes, then remember: you're not dreaming.

Maya Stein

~ from the 10-line Tuesday series

: : :

It's not the first time one of Maya's poems has arrived in my Tuesday box

somehow being so perfectly tuned

to here and now.

For you see, I'm heading out on a wee adventure shortly

to another edge,

or two,

some 4,450 miles from home ...

and I am feeling all these things Maya speaks of

[although I may have to admit to French fries over potato chips].

Shall be quiet here for a little while

but surely I'll have some tales to tell when I return.

The happiest of summers to each of you ...

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Some sense of order when there really isn't any

Not being one who is predisposed to tidiness

this happens to be the entire tipsy stack of books

which I've read over the last year

[and maybe a bit beyond]

piled as I laid them,

finished

or  [some]  not,

seen in complete disarray this afternoon.

This is a very graphic example of how my mind works.

True confession ...

such as it is.

Side story:

Recently, I found myself in need of an awl.

Not necessarily desirous of a new one

it came to my attention I might acquire one used ... not only for a lesser penny

but in the company of vintage needles tah boot.

Fond as I am of my grandmother's needle collection

these additions felt irresistible

for in this group were some larger eye sizes that I also happen to need,

of good quality, made in England

and which includes that delightfully historic Army and Navy Needle Book.

Here is the fine fella, Mr. Awl, now home to roost.  Still good & sharp

all that was required was a bit of cleaning on the wood handle.

I've left the heavy duty thread in place for the sake of posterity,

a reminder of tasks long past.

Sturdy,

dependable

and about to be put to further good use

[although not on this work smock ... slow going with hand stitching here].

But returning now to my opening tale of order ....

In my last post I happened to arrange a collection of objects 

that capsulized in an image what "home" symbolizes for me.

To my great surprise, I found enormous pleasure in this kind of organization.

Ironic 

isn't

it?

So in a similar vein, 

and because I find particular satisfaction in bringing this kind of 

photographic

order to things, here's another.  I daresay

 it might be quite some time before I'm similarly motivated

to produce order from the untidy stacks around the place.

: : :

My longtime blog friend, JJ Worden, left a swell link in her comment on my

last post ... she wrote:

"this reminds me a lot of an 'organized neatly' theme on tumblr

and is my head aesthetic though what comes out

looks nothing like it."

Love that.

Worth taking a long scroll over on that Tumblr theme  HERE

if this particular kind of  head aesthetic  appeals.

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There's no place like home ...

string stone

bone

driftwood

owl feather

seaweed

beach pebble

granite square

: : :

Joining with the fine folks over at Kim's place

for Texture Tuesday ...

faved : used in multiply mode, faded 50%, center erased slightly.

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Out to the edge

When I was a little girl,

I had a big crazy dream

about wanting to become the first woman astronaut.

Visions of walking around the outside of a space capsule while

looking back from the edge of the universe towards earth,

were completely captivating

and compelled me to study the sciences

while striving to be the best student possible.

NASA was demanding.  This I knew.

So it was a good thing I found out early

I was too short for space exploration

[then, the minimum height for pilots was 5' 4"]

because I never excelled in the sciences

and was fairly hopeless in math,

two very important subjects for discovering new worlds

in the cosmos.

~ evening view from Iceberg Point, on the far southwest tip of Lopez Island ~

What has never left me after all these years

is my unwavering attraction to the edges of places.

Funny to think of it this way but

when I look back on where I've travelled

and where I've chosen to live,

I see the pattern ...

still that wannabe astronaut, albeit in disguise.

Instead of space boots

it's likely a pair of Keens [or Blunnies when it's cold] these days.

And as often as possible

there's a certain four-pawed companion in tow,

a bit frowned on within intergalactic travel.

~ view from Spencer Spit, eastern side of Lopez Island, Swift's Bay on one side, Lopez Sound on the other ~

No, there may not have been rocket transport to the moon in my history

nor a glimpse of Mars from a capsule window,

but a simple outboard motor can surely be a 

perfect enough shuttle on a fine summer day when

there's an outer island to explore ....

~ passing through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, outer San Juan Islands ~

Not much traffic in the low-season

aside from the odd floating log

or a few seals just offshore.

~ the signal building, Turn Point Light Station, Stuart Island, San Juan Islands ~

My friend Pat & her husband do some caretaking out at Turn Point Light Station

although often, Pat heads over on her own.  In need of an extra pair 

of helping hands for this trip, Pat offered a ride.

Located way out on Stuart Island ... the farthest northwest point in the San Juan Islands ...

it's still only a 40 minute journey from the marina on Fisherman Bay.

The views are breathtaking.

Still, I can barely imagine living life out there - full time - as the keepers of old used to do.

While reading their stories, carefully preserved & documented in the small museum,

I couldn't help but think how  THIS  would be truly

living on the edge.

Many of the keepers didn't last too long in such a remote spot

except for this one ...

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

Louis A. Borchers, keeper & amateur photographer.

I could relate to his propensity for picture-taking

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

and probably would have spent my own time doing

much of the same.

Although, look at that beast of a tripod !

Good, sturdy legs for Borcher's Putnam Marvel,

a beautiful wood 5 x 8 view camera that would have cost

a pretty penny back in the day.

~ cliff at Lover's Leap [left], southwesterly view from Stuart Island ~

~ view to Vancouver Island, Canada from Stuart Island, USA ~

We ate our lunch on the bluff in front of the signal building

where the rushing confluence of tides was pleasant music

on such a peaceful, windless afternoon.

Sitting there in awe of this beautiful world,

right there on the boundary line between the States

and our western neighbor, B.C., Canada,

I pulled out my little pocket camera [phone]

while expressing thanks to all the explorers that came before.

Fortunately, there's no height restriction for this kind of adventuring

and I'm sure some were short just like me.

It was a fine day out.

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From the sea

It's been a fine, fine week

filled with many things

that just

make my heart sing

Pebbles were aligned,

tides were watched,

while in between

there was quite a bit of dunking.

I'd dyed a thrift shirt

in honor of my friend's visit

and much like in days of old

watching a photograph come to life

in the darkroom tray,

so too, my shirt's colors

after a dip in the salty brink.

Magic

pure and simple.

Kelp jewelry

and an abundant assortment of seaweed gifts

piled along the shore

inspired an experiment ...

what if they might give color?

Although I live by the sea, I have never tried.

So I waited, mustering patience

while my seaweed bundle

rested for five long days.

This morning, I unwrapped her

and I do believe a treasure trove of possibilities

await.

: : :

My  Friday Find ... joining in with the gang over at Kim's place

to celebrate life's simple pleasures.

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Another place

::  flight miracle  ::

Although there may be long stretches of time between blog posts,

it's rare a day goes by when I don't fiddle with photographs ...

either taking them or playing with them;

editing & stacking apps, playing with effects, layering textures,

double exposures ... on and on it goes.

True confession:

I have absolutely, unreservedly,

fallen under the spell of iPhoneography.

[digital photography with a smartphone]

At this moment

there's a wee bit of a backlog of images piling up

and I've been noticing a lot of folks

sharing similar mobile photography interests

who I want

to be in touch with ...

I love learning from them and I love to see how

they're translating their world.

::  what memories might look like stitched into cloth  ::

To that end

there's a new link over in the sidebar

::  INSTAGRAM  ::

won't you join me?

::  dreams of summer  ::

My intention is to build a library of images over there,

a collection of edits that won't necessarily appear here ...

experiments, new translations of old subject matter,

and a whole bunch of explorations

into the wide unknown.

There will undoubtedly be dogs,

beads,

dye pots,

 views around my hood,

and elsewhere this summer.

I'll be hash tagging the apps I use, to keep record

and also to share the work process

because some of my fondest successes have come from

following the footsteps of others who've shared theirs.

Wanna keep that circle going ...

I may not always have a lot of words,

but I'm never short of a picture or two.

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Dilapidated usefulness

It's been said that all roads lead to Rome
and in the case of my longstanding search for an old copper kettle,
this has proven true ...

I have found her.

Not too big,

not too small, 

but   just right.

Love at first sight, it was, because of this ...

how many hands have wrapped around that handle?

Held and poured?

A bit of historical sleuthing dredged up some interesting facts:

The current Revere Copper Products was founded in 1801 by Paul Revere.

Rome Manufacturing was established in 1892, a division
of Rome Brass Copper with production facilities in Rome, NY.
In 1928, a merge of five northeastern copper companies
produced the Revere Copper and Brass Corporation,
the largest copper manufacturer in the U.S.

Turns out this old gal is vintage Revere Ware.
She's a sweet wreck
with her pock marks and dents and peeling paint.
The thrift shop ladies were clearly perplexed
when I couldn't hand over my ten dollars fast enough.

Her days of useful service are far from over.

She may be past her prime for proper domestic service

but she can't be more perfect for my dye kitchen.

I hope she didn't think she was retired ...

: : :

In a stroke of serendipity, Hipstamatic released a new vintage-feel

lens/film combo pak

the same day I found my kettle ...

they call it Monti

so I took it for a test run.

All images are straight out of camera [iPhone]

no post-processing except to add copyright.

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this moment :: May Day .... wheeeeeeee!

Joining Soulemama, and many others, in  this moment

described thusly ...

A Friday ritual.  A single photo

~ no words ~

capturing a moment from the week.

A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

:::

... today's reflections are  HERE.

You are welcome to share your moment, too.

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What the hedgerows had to say

Last evening, although it was getting late,
there was good sky

so the woofies and I went out for a walk.
Our land is surrounded by pastures to the south,
mixed Douglas fir forests to the north, east, west
and everywhere in between is the smell of the sea
and the wild scramble of the native understory.

Willows ... catching the late light in their freshly leafed out canopies.

Over time, mostly when I wasn't paying much attention,
I've built relationships with these plants & trees ...
they all serve an important purpose in our small ecosystem
and no matter how annoyed I might be with hauling another fallen branch
across the footpath or disentangling myself for the umpteenth time from the thorn-hold
of wayward blackberries,
I deeply believe everything residing here holds value.
Bitter berries for songbirds, rotting stumps for the tree frogs,
the mucky pond shallows for salamanders ...
the list is long
and diverse
and has become a great source of inspiration.

I'm often up late, with the owls, doing handwork ...
This bead weaving stitched to willow-dyed cloth became a personal story
about my Salix friends with branches.

On the trek home we spied this native elderberry [Sambucus caerulea]

setting off some frothy firecrackers.
If I'm very lucky this season
I may get to some of the gorgeous blue-black berries
well before the birds.
Must be quick - they always beat me to it.

I admit to being taken aback 

by the sheer size of her this year.

Why, she must have put on two more feet

upwards and sidewards

since last summer !

Me & my furry pals may head out again this evening for another ramble
for there's so much going on out there ...
and what the plants are saying now
is foretelling a fine future.


: : :


joining in with the folks over at
Our World Tuesday
[because it's Tuesday in Australia  ;>]
pop over & be transported around the globe ...

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Paying some attention to what I take for granted

Lie Down

Lie down with your belly to the ground,

like an old dog in the sun.  Smell

the greenness of the cloverleaf, feel the damp

earth through your clothes, let an ant

wander the uncharted territory

of your skin.  Lie down

with your belly to the ground.  Melt into

the earth's contours like a harmless snake.

All else is mere bravado.

Let your mind resolve itself

in a tangle of grass.

Lie down with your belly

to the ground, flat out, on ground level.

Prostrate yourself before the soil

you will someday enter.

Stop doing.

Stop judging, fearing, trying.

This is not dying, but the way to live

in a world of change and gravity.

Let go.  Let your burdens drop.

Let your grief-charge bleed off

into the ground.

Lie down with your belly to the ground

and then rise up

with the earth still in you.

~ by Nancy Paddock, from Trust the Wild Heart ~

: : :

I've put a pot on the boil today, some cloth filled with leaves & twigs

and handfuls of weeds.  As I yanked those weeds from the spots they didn't belong

[didn't belong only because I said so ... they were quite happy]

the intense smell of damp earth surrounded me;  that dark brown smell,

the one that comes after a long hibernation

and for me only belongs to spring.

I thought about belonging.

I thought about what it means to get up every time.

How I first have to lie down before I can get up.

And then

I rolled all those thoughts into the cloth

with the leaves

the twigs

and the weeds.

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