this string wad was here when i got here.  I don't know its story.    i look at it a lot as i walk up and down for Goat feeding,  is hanging in a tangle of poison oak vine that remains in the branches of  this  tree next to the horse trailer.  The vines…

    it's been a while since a sleep over.   She and i alone,   time.    Each time she's different…her changes evident because of the singularity of us.   This time,  again.   Her conversations are paragraphs instead of sentences.  She has complex questions.   Where did you grow up?   Where  is Michigan?   What is a state?   In…

When in the archives,  there was this.   Next pic  from the child at the creek.   Spring, 2017.   Some of you might remember.   This is the reason i decided i could move from New Mexico.   Only this.   Otherwise i would have stayed.    She had gone to  visit an old par amour from the Navy.   At…

ok….so picture this.    A 76 yo woman,  sitting at a table in a travel trailer in California.    it's late.   she is wanting to put something  on the screen.   Evidently doesn't know how,   but tries.   it doesn't work so she sits.   Considers this.   Consider her,  considering.  

the drawing…but then i wondered if i'd made a post about it when i drew it?   i did.   in the Archives.   3~24~17   The Mother Tongue.   and it's a good post.    the drawing…today,  as then,   is so Off in perspective.  The fallen tree would be flat across the creek.  But it is good enough to…

it remains directly in front of where i am at the Morning Table.     to the right is Old Oak.     there is a  ~living ~ relationship    with cloth ,   with fiber.   

  so if this were a Cloth…if the drawing was on cloth and surrounded by cloth,  the scraps of the cloth would tell the story,  would Bring the story.   just the drawing,   could be just this.   But if there wanted to be Story,  would need  marks and lines.   and then   with cloth, or,  at…

a Cloth returned this weekend.   was sold  in 2013.    I remember the day it rose up from….I was standing on the bridge over the Rio Grande.   The woman is singing.   for the River.   She felt that the Cloth wanted to return to me. With it,  was the Salt Cedar stick for hanging it.   I…

  Campsite A.  the Wall Garden.    that i abandoned.     the grasses have begun in full  to  set seed.   it's thick and well….more than it   "should" be.    There's also Vetch and Clover and many others that i don't know their names.    Nothing is happening there,  of us,   so it's Their world.   Focus…