windthread

I'll probably loose this post because i've drank some wine.   But…we'll see and let's go anyway.  There are 3 human mothers here on this Hill.  Some Goat mothers and their offspring.  2 cats that Had mothers and a dog.  A chicken who Had a mother and now gives an egg a day in that kind of  mode.   There are thousands probably billions of mothers of plants, insects, rodents, mammals, reptiles, birds, trees,  fungus,  microbes ….. so many Mothers,  too many to even imagine,  and a Planet that some refer to as the Mother.

so you can't escape.  Mother's Day in neon.  And the 3 human mothers here say  to disclaim the DAY.  We turn away from Mother's Day,  but yet,  we labor under the prevailing wind,  no matter.    

It's a Maybe that Alyssia and Jenny will come tomorrow morning to install a new refrigerator here in this travel trailer where me,  the oldest of the mothers  finds her Self living.   Alyssia finally found one….same as that is here,  but supposedly works.  So tomorrow has been identified as The Day… the refrigerator has been around for a few months or more,  but…tomorrow is the day.  Maybe.  Why tomorrow we might wonder…well……….that neon flashing…..

and even more,  Jenny,  the middle mother,  has a THING about the poison oak.   She also has a Thing about weed whackers.  She hates both.  She spent  hours here,  all around,   with a lopper,  snipping it off at the earth,  snip snip snip,  all last year and then we let the Goats loose and they ATE it,  but now,  Spring,  and being seasonal browsers,  they won't eat it in it's present configuration so it Grows and is in the paths from this place at C over to the hill above B where we spend a lot of the hot months in the mid year with the sprinkler and mist er  and Alyssia and i said screw it and fired up the weedwhacker and WHAcked  poison Oak today.  Jenny works full time.  She's tired.  She's hit a kind of limit that we can't know.   So…the poison oak is "gone" for the moment.   I'd brought the whacker from  New Mex.  where i used it with that kochia.  Poison Oak and Kochia…somewhat similar in that they are just the bane of anyone's existence

so just now the phone…it's Alyssia…..how would you feel about NEXT week for the refrigerator and i say as i have said and said and said…it's FINE

it IS!,  it's fucking FINE but we all labor under that throbbing Neon Mother's Day

and today,  ahead of the maybe refrigerator installation day  (not really Mother's Day),  we worked to clear up the mess of the collapsed effort that Jenny had made for all the tools etc…a tent thing,  BIG and really great till the RAINS in the winter collapsed it and all came crashing down and everything WET.  a lot got rusted.  You can see the white frame in the background,  all squashed.  And we wiped stuff off and pulled it up from the dirt and set up the two shelves again and sorted sogged boxes of screws and nails and drill bits and ON and ON and here we are.  Good enough for the moment?

 

 

 

 

my beloved blue tool box got filled with water.   Emty ed  and drying in the sun today.  Rusted tools soaking in Vinegar.

While Alyssia weed whacked,  me and Emrie held hands and stood a very CAREfull ways away and watched…Emrie was fascinated,  looking up at me and smiling a LOT and she wore a pair of safety glasses that were like sun glasses without question,  so funny,  she didn't once question,  because MaMom had some on too,   and used her screw driver to HELP change the blades.

and i just created this big gap above so know i need to quit here,  but just to say.  It's all What It Is.  and Blessed Be.

 

the Janet Chair with tools soaking in vinegar.  We all need to remember that this is first and foremost a Journal of Days.  Awkward as it may be sometimes.

 

leaves and roots.  Roots mostly.  This Cloth is very difficult to photograph.  it's wide.  And to picture it,  it needs to be from a distance.  But then,  the roots don't so much appear,  being delicate as roots are.  But,  here,  maybe if you double click?

Someone was out there calling.  I wasn't sure who,  and let it go awhile but it went on beyond awhile and when i went There i found Tenzen,  over on his side,  at an odd angle,  slant,  his whole body,  up against the fence between him and Nogal.  He couldn't right himself.  Struggling,  calling,   his eyes all wide.  I knelt and put my hand in,  under his shoulder and with not much at all,  gave him what he needed to stand.  It was an Incident.  The rest of the day,  he was his usual self.  At evening feed,  his usual self.  so,  a reprieve.  But usual self anymore means an Old Buck,  crippled by arthritis and damage from all the exchanges buck goats have with eachother,  the Chingasos…in spanish…don't know if that's spelled right…but phonetically, it works,  the really HARD whacks they insist on inflicting on one another in the interest of just how it is,  nothing personal.

so i sewed on this Looking Cloth,  Altar Cloth,  to ease all of this.  And it did.  

Tomorrow is another day.

 

 

Snow peas….Many blooms = Many pods = Joy

Jude is doodling.  Her thought catching.   I don't draw a lot for that purpose,  but sometimes it's perfect,  as in this page….So many more birds here this spring.  A finch flutters at the Morning Window all the time,  the pair of Morning Doves that Puppy hunts,  many now.  Some large,  as in bigger than a robin.  Birds are on my mind….i wanted to catch that thought.

 

this whole Cloth began in its beginning as only the small scrap in the center…the black and grey small scrap that looked to me like some kind of ultrasound image.  fetal.  undefined, still.   It kept rising up in the basket over and over and i'd hold it and look and try to make some known image from what it is,  but couldn't and didn't.  it remained amorphous and that made me love it more.   a fetal thing,  could be many things,  anything.   and i loved it.  So it went from there.  Folding over a long Deb Lacativa piece and placing the botanical dyed piece at the top.  A moon.  I am always thinking of compost,  how it is a secret birthing of so much….in the beginning,  the decay of spent life that slowly becomes the cradle for  all manner of infinitesimal life forms that live and  give birth and die themselves to live again in a changed form to give birth to themselves and to Others.  Such reciprocity.  So  much giving.  And so much of it invisible.  Hidden.     But at a point,  it can become known and celebrated.  the small lizard on the rocks at the bottom.  The butterflies that attend.  

i am working on trying to get the Shop in order….over on the sidebar.  It's awkward right now.  The images are at first sideways,  and need help to be rotated.  But it's good enough.  and just ok.  

this one should be there in the shop tomorrow.  

 

on the cleared gravel  just a way from the work table,  half way between the hill of the Morning Tree and the Doe Goat Shelter,  traveling at a brisk pace.

Proof that some otherworldly Brilliant Intelligence designs such things to grace this planet Earth.    Just for Beauty.  Just for Joy.   Looking up into the low branch of the morning tree,  within a span of maybe 18 inches there are 4 more.  they are Big compared to the ones of last Spring,  which are also here again.  These are new.  Maybe 2 1/2  inches long.    

 

and then,   just gazing,  the white is  noticed under the work table.   There on the gravel.   As if someone  had gotten that far,  not any kind of private or sheltered place….maybe got that far and thought  "well,  this will have to do".   Would be a different kind.  Too small a cocoon.  But being a cocoon,  it is a Moth.    I picked it up by the stone on the right and everything else came too.  Leaves,  the other stone,  bit of wood and grass seed…the threads of the weaving very strong.  Fibers.  i wish someday i could watch this happen.  It would be the greatest gift.

in New Mexico,  the Spade Foot Toads.  They live.  Underground.  The  whole year.  Until monsoon.  Which has been maybe July give or take.  Now,  who knows.   They live underground and Wait.  Somehow so perfectly "evolved".   I think about that word, evolved….what has their evolvement brought….them,  the planet?  

but when the monsoon rains would come,  and the Lightning strikes,  3 days in a row,  there would be a Great Chorus of Song from them,  homely bleating sounds,  LOUD and continuous,  startling dogs and livestock all night long  and then,  in the sideroad puddles of water,  eggs.    I waded in this water,  carefully,  bare foot.  and yes.  there would be eggs from the mating,   from the calling.  If fortune served,  the sideroad puddles would last the short time till tadpoles formed when birds would come to gobble so many up,  but some were not eaten and grew legs and left the mud of the puddles to crawl to an underground world to grow and ….wait.  And it would happen again.  This pattern.  Pattern.  Patterns.  Design.

i don't know anything and never will know anything about why this has come to be.  It's reason and purpose.  Maybe just for Beauty?  Maybe just Because it Could?  Maybe because the GodThing  had a Thought?,  and followed through?  I don't know.

So,  this scrap of cloth.  I got it from of all places,  Walmart in Socorro, New Mexico.  It and a few yards of another piece i call the diamond with a dot.  They are cotton.  Cheap.  On the dollar a yard table.  From China.  I love them.

this is the one i put here the other day,  knowing Jude would be talking about scraps.  So,  i just put some here.  Not chosen, really,  just off the top of the little scrap basket at the table altar.  They had no particular meaning.  In this context.

 

This morning.   I can't remember when this thinking began,  years ago,   but it's about the "reality" that the Whole of Everything, and we can call this Whole….Gaia,  is constantly engaged in a continual Whole act of creating.  By whole,  this would include everything,  all life forms,  all of everything they create from and with.  Everything…the microbes and the energetic systems they are made with and of,   all beings and things,  animals, plant people,  the atmosphere and extending into space.  And we do this Together as one being ,  in a neverending vast and glorious  flow of energy.  I used to think about this a lot and then not so much because it was too much.  And the desert makes things simple.

I realize i've never really thought about the ACT of cloth making much.  You just look at what you have in the baskets.  One piece catches your attention and it begins.  You set it down on the table and begin putting other pieces with it.  Take them off,  put them back,  turn them,  and your mind begins to make a picture.  A lot of times,  maybe all the time,  for me the picture is about a feeling or a momentary experience.  I never know ahead.  It takes form as it goes.

Things are so different here in California.  Everything is different.  It feels "deeper,  more complex".  Maybe an example of Crows:  in New Mex I could hear a Crow coming and run out.  There would be ground i ran on.  Then extending to plain horizontal striations of kinds of earth to a very clear RIM.  Sky began.  There would be the figure,  standing in that scene,  calling back.  The crow overhead.   Here,  i run out and turn and turn to locate the direction then scan through a thick forest.  Looking out, the earth is full of plant people of so many kinds,  there is sky but only in one direction…and i have to run through the forest to get there….is there RIM and that Rim is made of far distant tree tops.

But also,  then,  if i sit in this forest,  a clearing in the forest,  it feels so FULL of so MUCH.

So the scrap pieces,  the small torn fragments are ways for me to depict what i sense to be the energetic beings of this place.  How they might appear if they were cloth.  Some scraps have remained constant,  the desert to  this Hill.   This  black and white.  Toad Egg pattern,  by Toad Egg,  the mystical event of life forming.  

OK.  this is too much.  This cloth beginning is on the design curtain.  I'll change it.  Take away and add.  Maybe i'll be able to know more words about "process"