I pull; she pulls--initially in the same direction

she usually joins, pulling with me to my debris reducer pile, but in no time at all she must wrestle and subdue the bug infested wooden beast for me. at these moments, it counters my intent but is too entertaining to cause complaint because truly she appears to think she is helping me. I hope she doesn't outgrow her helpfulness because it makes me laugh and brings me joy.

well it is the weekend and the weather is fine.

such a cutie. I promise not to post a whole lot more puppy pics

just a little lumbering puppy smittenness in spite of her nibbling on my steel tip boots and chewing loaded diet coke cans. not many more pics she is such a deep black she is hard to actually get a good shot and she really doesn't like me fidgeting on my iPhone. I suppose this may be long term because I've broken down and bought both a leash and collar.

it's not about the picture

it's about my sheer amazement at where I find myself embedded with its constant evolution of color and light. not a lick of it involved a human landscape designer. it is the evolution of colors, scents, sounds, touch and textures that soothes and awakens. if I was a Buddhist or Zen I would seriously be warning myself to not get so attached. too late. I am definitely attached. it will be painful, when a call away eventually comes. dang attachments though it's healthy for now.

no real value. eeeek but to me.

my wonderful neighbor is slowly taking out all her oaks because...well...they have no economic value except shade. eeeek I consider beauty of great value. she kills them by removing bark ring around base (remember freshman biology and that the xylem and phloem stuff is the circulator system of the tree) then she burns em. she does replace them with various fruit trees (value). she used to work for the FDA and has degrees in ag economics. she does know what she is doing. but I am going to go against her advi e and keep my oaks! they have visual. slue for me and I like the sound of the winds whispering through their boughs.

don't let that Dopt me.

naturally in her (Dopt the dog) helpfulness, she is sitting directly on the palette rubber pile where I am trying to stack more rolls. well it is a shady spot cushioned with rubber padding vs tree fodder. smart dog.

some days I must just sit tilting my head back and bask in the...

the overlapping voices calling, the myriad of scents, the chill of the green blades and heat of the sun's direct kiss. the puppy playdate with Michael, Rosie and Maybe has come and gone. i tilt sunward and can hear the grass pushing upward through the dirt. swinging back I slowly flip to another page and my pup, younger than I originally thought, sleeps on the velvet green blades below my feet.

plus a little rambling hunt but only a few were ready to pop in my mouth...well and Dopty laid down on some ripe ones as well.

Dopt unloads trailer

GOOD DOG! but then proceeds to try an eat it! apparently dirt and fiber glass resin are new food groups. hmmmm. less than good!

celebrating 77 birthdays

oh the joy of the ripping and tearing of cardboard

snuggling. check. food. check. walk. check. lounging in morning sun. check. the shear joy of shreading cardboard. check. happy pup. check. such a deep black and wiggly all over, I am guessing she's almost a year old but that's me guessing. gain a pup and lose a deer pod. noticed they are not observably frequenting my microforest. must be a result of pup on the prowl since I don;t leash, house or fence her in. she stays because she chooses to.

she won't hold still for click moment in the morning; by mid afternoon she and I need to have a serious coversation

she still has residual puppy energy. more importantly she appears to have decided to stay. perhaps it was this mornings bowl of wheat chex I gave her. I think she has definitely decided I am part of her pod. surely no anthropomorphizing there! i've tested some different names on her. she likes dopty but responds best to "good dog."

I stop and pick up some old Roy and a raw hide chew bone (foreshadowing) for my return to the hermitage. I arrive and Dopty and I sit down to a serious conversation as to what is mine and what is hers. she wiggles all over hardly able to hold for her talking to...if she were a mouth shed be nothing but laughter and smiles. needless to say, I handed over the raw hide and will put that old fashion book of blank pages upon which I scratch a pen in a safer locale.

dopt-dopt. she just showed up and she decided she belongs to me

no collar, but clean, well fed, tries not to jump (trained), lots of end stage puppy in her. I won't feed her for a couple of days just in case her home is near enough for her to find way there. I've named her dopt-dopt because she likes it and seems to be adopting me. I never considered an outdoor dog but she seems trained that way--doesn't come on porch or to door. she just plays and goes on adventures until I come back out then she just hovers and bumps me trying to be close. funny that the grand girls are coming up today and we've got a puppy hunting outing for the afternoon. perhaps she came to me. far better than eharmony or eBay for a new best friend. I assume she'll find her way home tonight.

hey I know these young women

of course I still imagine them in 7th grade or so :) gosh I think that was a full decade ago (OMGosh...two decades ago)! prior to them being lawyers and such. though they've always sung. Lainey Balagia (middle) and Libby Koch (right) of The Grievous Angels. 

mí mini meadow

mí arms are tired--little chain sawing dead pine plus clearing a bit of sugar maple...then on to weed eating the forested property lines. weed eating cause I now need to build a bridge to cross my creek which has finally eroded enough that I can't pass with mī mini baby tractor (riding mower). a task for another day (well plus some structural homework) besides I've got a deck extension to finish.

it broke in the perfect spot! when the water pipe spoke to me

within thirty minutes of fixing it, my now fixed water pipe told me I should've run a water line up the post to new extension to put faucet on porch for watering plants. dooh! so I cut my fix and added the initial part plus a temporary cap. I'll add a shout off valve (for winter freezes), a lower faucet and then run another up to deck. such a smart broken waterline to tell me these things. please don't tell anyone that my broken water pipe told me these things!

sit here and watch it all grow or get up

mental gentle debate has begun. it is Saturday. my chain saw wielding dad will be here shortly.

Soon I will be done painting interior of the hermitage. but at this moment I've got my butt planted firmly on front porch. again this morning. am watching a neighbor's cat stalk its prey through bending blades of green below the deck. she ignores me and continues her hunt. I mildly worry that I've just taken my final sip from the last of my diet coke stalk...oops stock. though I will have to stalk to stock my stash.

it may be the gin talking but...

though I have actually loved every class I have had, I am especially partial to the two crews I have this semester. I don't know if it is because I am more awake in terms of post post blinding divorce trauma or that they simply happen to be an amazing crew set. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and go with...they are just a great set. the two crews are so strong, I really am not overly bothered (overwhelmed) by the crazy amount of grading it requires. and i love the synergy that manifests from a stupid high number of studio emerging artists, designers and animatirs. amazingly enough I am only behind on one project for only one section. though it is time to catch up with this project (as it is one of my favs I've developed) or I am going to get my grading butt kicked as we roll in to the final weeks. I am especially partial to my two wash pods this semester (no offense to my previous washers).

it is a gift

the morning mist has passed and the still low slung sun blinds me as i sit hovering in its warmth. I thumb out thoughts as it passes through my lids reminding me to stay awake in this moment. it's brilliance does not let me drift to far inward where I might get lost for extended breaths of unwanted thoughts. and my thumbing of thoughts in reply to the sun brings and keeps me in the moment. the body can only be now. it cannot drift forward or back in time. it can only be now, here, in this place unlike the mind and heart. it is the interaction of the light with my body and the physical motion of my digits that link me back to now. this is why I need my hermitage with its unpeopled microforest. it is a gift and I accept it. this is why I make art. it is a gift.

Theologian C.H. Spurgeon once said, "It is easier to save us from our sins than from our righteousness."

Your right and left hands are no longer attached

fictionalized truth*, unsent letter to my sleeping giant (2004).

Dear Sleeping Giant,

The systems on—the mic is set to unity. I hear your booming laugh. I smile. For a moment, I sit on the stairs carpeted in red. Your voice sooths me as you ramble on. Closing my eyes, I lean back and listen. Certain truths I find in what you have to say. Rising, I slip out the back unnoticed.

I see you in the hallway. Your arms are stretched wide with warm welcome. Stepping forward, I am embraced. I do not fear being crushed. I smile and feel safe. I laugh. You move on and offer the same to others. That hurts a little but I know it is right.

And I wonder…is it not enough to be loved? If we each are loved and valued, why do we need to feel special? Why do I need to feel special? And not just special but MORE special than X or Y. Why did the chicken cross the road? Pecking order! Why is there a pecking order? Why do I find myself trying to advance within this order?

This gets me to think-ing about the big “G”.

You know, God. I think about God, my family, the community of which I am a part, and chickens. I look at my life and consider whom I have been pecking in an attempt at better placement. I want to learn to be loved and valued without having to be one up from the next guy—no pecking. Of course this is much easier said than done. Peck! Peck!

You visit me in my office. The chair is dwarfed by your size, sags with your weight. You look at me and I know that you love me. I do not feel small. I look down. There is something swallowed up in your hands. Gently you open them. I see there is a gift. It is for me. I am afraid but tremble with anticipation. I pluck it from your hands and turn it about. I laugh in delight. Thank you. Thank you so much. Quietly you leave. I notice that you are gone.

I feel the walls of the building rumble. It is right. I know without looking that you have been gently shaking the pillars again—questioning the structure and integrity of the site. I smile. For fifty years these pillars have held fast. The structure and integrity not questioned. The people murmur. I laugh. The sound grows. They are angry. They attack you. You speak with love to your enemy. They devour you.

You climb out of the pit. You stand. You are not so tall.

Your allies speak platitudes to you. Truth moves far away. Your strengths become your weakness. Workers leave. Wounds are deep. You are tired. You wreck your car. You wreck it again. Your back hurts. You lay flat. It is hard to stay still. You stand up. I see the weight sways you. The pillars close in. They limit your range of motion. You try to shake them. The movement is slight. The questions of structure and integrity are whispered. The angry people are louder. They attack you. Who is your ally; who is your enemy? Your voice is small. I am sad.

Things get disconnected. Your right and left hands are no longer attached.

You visit my office. The chair is still dwarfed by your size. Your eyes are red. You are sad and tired. You look
at me and I see that you love me. I am not afraid. You ask me about my life. You ask me about my mate. I say private things. I see tears in your eyes. I am not afraid. I trust you.

You trudge up the stairs. My mate is ravaged. My words used as weapons. I do not see. I do not know. My mate weeps. Who is shaking the pillars? Where are the questions? I am so ashamed of my words. I cry.

The harder you try to disentangle the more tangled you become. You lean more and more on your strengths; they become greater and greater weaknesses. The angry people gather around you. Are they your enemy or ally? They gnaw at your feet. It is a long drop from such a height. They gobble you up. They vomit you out. You smell bad. You struggle to your knees. You are not so tall.

And I wonder…where my strengths are, is that too where my brokenness lies. If I overuse my strengths, do they become my weaknesses? I look around and see this in those I know and love. Behind each I see a wake of damage caused by their over reliance on their talents. If those I know do this, even sleeping giants, than I to must do it. What are my strengths? How do I abuse them? Where is the balance? Can my strengths not be my downfall?
And what of truth? Who do I give permission to speak truth to me about how I live? Can I find balance without truth being spoken? No platitudes please. Speak truth to me even if it
hurts. If I cry, tell me the truth anyway.
Will you be my ally?

I am so ashamed of my words. I weep.
Who is shaking the pillars? The pillars need to be shaken and the questions asked. I work hard. I work harder. Can you stand up? You stay so busy. Your ability to distinguish ally from enemy is lost. Your left hand gives me a raise. Your right hand retracts it with expectations of repayment. This should not matter. I do what I think is right. I stay. I work harder. I try not to be angry. You do not know. I grow angry. I suppress it.

I see you sway forward on your knees. Are you falling? Again? Ever so slowly I see you descend to the dirt. The dust is kicked up. The tears roll silently down my face. I hurt. I am ashamed. I do not extend my arm to help. I see you lying there. Are you asleep? I look down at you but the light has drifted from your eyes, in its place is a reflection of me. Where have you gone? The pillars no longer shake. The questions are mute.

I pull my car into the parking lot. You lean out of your car window and suggest I park differently. Why? Looks fine to me. I see you are with someone. I will not comment. I leave. I am angry.
I have hurt you. I have embarrassed you. I am insubordinate. You hurt. You are very, very angry. You yell. Things get disconnected. I am your ally. I am your enemy. I cry. You cry. Your right and left hands are no longer attached. You are afraid. You are alone. You are not so tall.

I visit your office. Your chair dwarfs you. Your hands stay locked at your sides. Frozen is your face. I see no smile. I hear no laugh. I step to the side. You do not rise to block my way. I still have your gift. It is in my pocket. I do not want to give it back. You do not ask for it. I leave.

I hear silence. This makes me sad. 2004.

fictionalized truth=a way to openly write about real experiences without the need to tell the whole story from each person's perspective and all the baggage of understanding and rationales to the whys and what fors, giving the author the freedom to speak only to their own lived experiences.

fixola-ed

naturally while digging a mere three holes on ten acres the one PVC water line feeding the back five acres is struck. the odds were not quite as low as winning the lotto but close, this I found pretty funny. well mainly because I glued PVC together the other week on the replacement stuff for the caput water heater...so since I knew I could fix it, it only made me laugh. if I had to pay a plumber, I might have, well, contemplated a few curse words to direct at an imaginary plumbing god! so not only did the line break but it was in the way. today I rerouted and fixed it--hopefully leak free.

I am sitting here on the cover small part of my deck watching my deer pod graZe at the most 50 feet from my reclined back end. I can't wait to finish my deck extension so that in the cool of evening I may sit in the open, reading and watching my deer and hawk pods. but I am really looking forward to reclining on extended porch for some serious star gazing. I could go layout in the field in the dark but I am a bit urban and the night field filled with its creepy crawling Eco system makes me a little nervous to lay in...

I am not sure it can get much greener, but I will watch just in case it makes itself evident.

posts up :)

three days to avoid the church

1. shuttle service mass chaos video overflow and lilly altar day (also known as Easter)

2. shuttle service mass chaos with candlelight, mangers and red altar day (also known as Christmas)

3. barrenness awareness omg if you didn't feel bad about it before you will shortly day (also know as mother's day)

harvesting my deck extension posts for me

:)

putting the parentals to work

one with a cabin saw the other with the hose. scary.

sans the yellow tint of cottage white

left=cottage white; right=mineral.
freshly applied mineral. mineral is a gray to the brownish side vs to the bluish side (which I mistakenly applied last night) so today's gray picks up a smidgen of the greens of environment and bedroom paint without the yellow cast of behr's cottage white. the cottage white was literally driving me crazy with its yellow cast. it felt too country buncken. I am simply urban/suburban who happens to like nature (vs rural country girl leaning toward redneck and country kitsch). now to acquire an additional gallon and break out my gorilla ladder design to navigate my stairs.

touch that

touching up. coat two. why do they leave plumbing pipe white that runs up exterior side of house. looks crappy. I've coordinated mine with door. a few more to do for another day.

plumb that!

so tidy. rotated pipes so text and bar codes don't show, pretty precision with minimal joints, kept purple solvent from running all over pipes, tidy, tidy, tidy. dang then I dropped purple staining solvent on top of my newly installed hot water heater. double dang. the previous home owner or paid plumber had about a thousand extra bends and joints (mild exaggeration perhaps) and purple solvent everywhere plus the the last section was fractured. yes, it's true, I mostly rock. who would have expected a woman who sews tire tubes all gnarly like and never has clean fingernails might actually be a stickler for craft. well, for sure my students would tell you, as many have suffered the grade spank of poor craftsmanship. apparently, I now have them trained as evidenced by their critiquing as they point out all the distracting craft issues that detract from a work's concept. I would definitely lose a grade or two on my purple drip drips and thumbing typos and weird auto corrects. oh double dang.

oops and the clickiedy clack of my broken new washer ends up being the clickiedy clack of a screw stuck in drum drain hole spinning about = not broken just gooberfied.

they didn't even blink

when I almost stepped on them after I lifted log and surely not even a heart beat when I squatted down and put my phone mere inches from their face. and on a separate note how bout this image quality snapped from a phone. wow.

closing stroll of good day, time to

light the grill and then sit down to a smidge of paper work.

pod chair to go with womb nest chairs

ok still on subfloor and a bit of renovations still in the works buT i've just got to have some reading chairs. this is my pod chair. on the lower level I've got my nest womb chair(s). snuck the pillows off guest bed just to test the look. obviously I'll need to make slip covers because my sculptress habits don't lend themselves towards anything remaining white. but I do actually like the white.

the nest womb chair and it's view plus renovation junk laying around on the subfloor

apparently the antique golden oak style of two decades was one dictated by my own need to belong, to fit in, to assimilate, and didn't really have much to do with my personal aesthetics. is this a waning residual dig? perhaps. but no less true. it has taken me a while to discover some of my habits and tendencies that are about getting along. I've only just begun deconstructing them, unlearning them, pealing them back to see more of who i am, as I was created to be.