It is gorgeous out...70°, with a fairly cool wind. The sky bright and beautiful, the air itself is lovely. However, the wind plays with my asthma a bit and today is an achy day. But IF one has to feel 'under the weather' - as the saying goes - at least this is wonderful weather to be under. Lucky for me, I can take it easy today. Just watching the video above exhausted me! But, I had to put it here because it is so cheerful and the dancers are so talented. I do love to watch dance.
I love how if you look closely, you can see the wind in the trees. Next best thing to a video camera 😉
I have mentioned that I've lost count on how many CMB I have made. I started keeping them home with me (mostly) while I continued working my way through an internal need related to color scheme. Is that what real artists do, work in series? Anyway, I still have 5 brownish bags and 9 blues bags here at home. The browns are tagged and ready to go, the blues are not.
Today I took them outside for a "Mug Shot" (😂 🤣 that literally popped into my head as I was typing this!). As I mentioned in a comment to Deb, last post, this mug holds a story. First of all, as far as holding a story...I am reminded about the 'boots can hold a story' that I posted back HERE. I love that poem and that story (memory).
Anyway, for today's story...years and years ago, while living at the old place, I saw something - somewhere that gave me the idea to take a series of photographs. I had already begun the "places to weave" series, which included tangled ancient wire on the desert floor and black hillside retaining netting on the California coast, among other things. Anything that had 'holes' was perceived as a place to weave. The new series I was inspired to think about was things that could be held in a mug, a plain white mug. I bought this mug, made a list...and I never did the project in my head! I put some natural materials into it and stood it on a shelf in my studio, but never took the focused photos I was imagining. Those natural seed pods dried up and made a mess, so out they went. Then the mug hung around for more years on shelves, dressers, windowsills...it moved into the cabinet to used for his coffee. It sat, white and empty as the day I brought it home. Suddenly the other day, after bringing home the first little handful of oak sticks and needing a place to put them, I remembered this ancient plan. Those are the photos you saw the other day. I remembered how lovely the light on the patio can be, how the backdrop of the green vine-covered wall makes the photographed item pop. So, I thought...just do it!
So I did. I have and I will continue.
The list is long gone (along with my memory, ha), so I'll practice this process in the arc of just going.
I played with the camera angle, which side I stood on to take the photograph and so on. I took no notes and I'm sure I will forget the next time I set up for a photoshoot. All fine by me, as the goal is playing. I will track them here, for fun.
Mug Shots
#1 - Abundance (the oak sticks)
#2 - My cup runneth over, weaving a story
I finished this one last night. It is very soft. This is planned as a gift. As I wove, I thought about Grace's recent remarks about how she uses her Medicine Bag and how it feels to her.
I will next make at least 3 holiday colored Medicine Bags, as I did last year.
I kept forgetting to change the calendar this month, but finally got it done, slipping in at month's end!
Little one toddling a year ago and Big one, when he was born.
So much time has gone by.
Yesterday's beauty while heading out to my sister's house for the traditional day after Thanksgiving meal.
With 4 finished Holiday colored CMB's completed, we went out to plant them today
...and ended up replanting as well!
This adventure today brought the current count to:
CMB: Made: 60
CMB: Planted: 60
CMB: Green warp: 26
(if I've got all my tally marks right)
🪡
Okay, off we went...
First off, there were a zillion tiny birds singing!
Then, there were views to hold you and take your breath away.
The just pure amount of SKY...the clouds, the scent on the air, the perfect temperature...all of these things amaze me and fill me.
sigh
A hawk was seen on the drive in. The crows were calling.
There were two cars in the parking lot.
But, before I could consider where to plant a CMB, something catches my eye.
🪡
A Story, of sorts...
Today while at the 'Mother's Day' spot, I spied something in the tree. Walking closer and closer, I discover that yes, indeed...it is an old Community Medicine Bag!! It was completely tangled up in the tree, the 'free' tag and message long gone...the fibers fuzzy from time spent in the elements, the fading a marker of time.
I'm an odd one in things that creep me out, like how fuzzy this had become, the wondering what had happened or if something was inside of it. It barely resembled one of my CMB! To see it now, as is, knowing it had a life without me. 🙂
I think this is the first time one of the CMB has not been found/taken.
Please do pause here and go there, as it is quite amazing all that has transpired in just over one year.
sigh
Anyway, here it was new, fresh ready to go out into the world.
As it was hanging then...
and today...
It really was something to think of the time and weather this little bag experienced! No wonder it was so tangled, with its tag missing. I did not have a new tag with me, but I chose to rehang it on an almost bare tree. It actually stood out a bit more than the photo shows. Also hard to see, the tree has new leaves coming out. So, a rebirth for them both. I'll throw extra tags in the car, in case we pass by it again.
On the way out, I planted two CMB and marveled at the crow vocalizing loudly on the old bones tree.
I was far more intentional in my planting, choosing places that were clearly visible...making these Holiday themed bags more likely to go home this season!
We moved on to the trail head where there is a charming bridge, a man who plants oaks and a spot or two being refurbished with native growth. We've hiked here many times. The views are grand!
I truly love this time of year.
Things that were merely a dream last visit, are growing now. And some of the baby oaks are thriving too!
Here I am waving to all of you! ❤️
As usual, I took way too many photos of the gorgeous blue sky, the golden dancing Cottonwoods...the fantastic space around us!
I had planted the other two CMB on my way in, as no one was around to see me. Very obvious in my planting!
They were still there as we left, even though a few hiker/biker/dog walker had passed by.
Once again, I'll claim to be scattered, not really doing/posting much, but starting posts, and finishing them eventually. A record of days as they are.
This is one of those, obviously.
They flit back into the environmentally sensitive native and succulent plants
as the vibrations of my feet move towards them
big, small, tiny...fast
they are there if you are looking
You have to be looking
I'm looking and pausing, giving them space
Each night, at the same cross street, the light turns red
I stop
I watch the team of men working
older white van parked curbside
The men wear headlamps, clamp lights on the chainlink fence nearby
Each night, they are very busy moving things
The old white van stuffed full, including the rooftop
Each night, I try to discern what they have stuffed in that van
I try to see, while the light is red, what are the many items in and on the van, on the sidewalk all lined up, hanging from the chainlink fence
One night I see a ladder
Another night many extension cords, coiled up and ready for use
I wonder profusely, where these items came from and where they are going?
Who are these folks?
Do they live behind the chainlink fence on the foundation of a once there house?
Someone lives back there now
These questions will probably go unanswered forever
I'm okay with that
Questions don't always need answers, do they?
She sits, preferring the blanket mountain
The tent is gone, the umbrella is also gone, but she remains
Sitting atop her throne, smoking a cigarette - face to the morning sun
I see her each morning there,
but at night, she disappears into the dark charcoal heap of blankets
Likely unseen by the many commuters traveling by
Last Friday morning, as I move down the road, I notice someone new
Standing next to her is a white-haired man
They are each holding a disposable coffee cup
talking in the morning sun
*This reminds me of Grace & Jude's recent neighborly encounters and makes me happy for her human connection on this day
Rain came, again
It was enough to see it falling, which sounds odd I know
It was loud enough to hear, which while again sounds odd, but is common around here
We often can barely see or hear the rain, even with a sliding door and a metal roofed carport
Next the wind came, many different days of Wind
Big Wind
And the clouds, with their own stories. We called it a jellyfish cloud
Last Friday, driving home, I was on the 2 lane road, which wraps around the mountain
Right at the most narrow part, uphill tight against the hill
I'm in stopped traffic, heading North
Southbound lane is empty
It is empty except for the single man walking along the side of the road
He is wearing dark clothing and a dark (black?) backpack, thinning hair and a dark beard
He is not easy to see in a road absent of lights
But, I see him.
He is walking firmly, abruptly, angrily(?)
He waves one arm and punches the air above him
I go very still, looking straight ahead, while keeping him in my peripheral vision
He continues South a few more steps
I run through reasons he could be in this place, presenting as he is
Maybe his car broke down and is mad, although I see no car on the roadside
Maybe he got fired and that was the last straw for him
Maybe...?
But, something feels wrong. This is not a walking road, at all
His demeanor shouts a different story
My mind starts racing
It's dark, bumper to bumper traffic
two lane road - around a mountain
No Way Out
no way out
Why is he Here?
What's in the backpack?
Why does he seem so angry?
We move an inch or two
Think, think
Okay, my door is locked, so that's good
I lock it anyway
I remain looking forward
I'm silent, but the repeated chant is loud in my head
Don't come over to me
Don't come over to me
Don't come over to me
we move another inch or two
He begins to cross the road, heading to a car a couple of cars behind me
His arms are waving and his beard surrounded mouth is opened in a yell
We move again
I call 911
Thick is morning fog
obscuring much of my view
The world turns yellow
May you have both dull and brilliant in your world
