windthread

how we never know

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 this point they were just friends.   But before going,  she got a whole GYN tune-up.  Good to go.  3 days.   I kept Julian.   And then there was this.   So many decisions from the beginning.  Yes...No...Yes...No...undecided and then the news of the Trisomy 13 markers rising up.   But the ultrasound.   We went round and round,  She,  Jenny,  Me.   and then, for whatever reason,    Keep.   It all being such an unknown,  it all being so possibly such a difficult time.  Time for me to go there.  Offer what i could.   no matter what.   

and here i am tonight.  A sleep over.  We talk about kindergarten.   She just tore toilet paper in strips and held them to her chin....a Goat Beard.   Puppy has come in to lie on the foot of the bed.   Tay farted.   Here we are.   May.   an interesting month for me.   a FREE month.  but this time around,  maybe not.    

 

post 2...so maybe it can be enlarged?

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.  

when i was 7

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 remember by...even this way.  And perfect that i   "ran across"  the drawing.    There is purpose and meaning in everything.

the threads pulse

there is purpose and meaning in Every Thing.

dawn

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.   

Cloth.......Drawing

 

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 least in the way i like to collage it,    the story would be open to being seen in many ways...as many ways as viewers,  would have many meanings.   many stories.

the drawing,  with more drawing,   would be the story I would tell.

an intimate moment in B Garden

return

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 think it might have been the stick that wanted to return.   I have very much missed those sticks...missed the Salt Cedar everywhere along the ditch banks through N Mex,  along the irrigated fields.  Always the efforts to eradicate this Invasive.   Which i understood,  but at the same time could not help loving the Beauty of it...it's feathery self with rust red wood,  graceful curves.   i have looked for sticks here...there's sticks EVERYWHERE,  but they are angular and knobby...not for Cloth hanging.

i sent a Message to Bill...my friend there,  asking if the family who lived in Polvadera was still there.  They had a lot of kids and sold wood,  salt cedar,  and eggs.  they had Goats.  Were Evangelical and loved to try to help me understand.   Their kids are probably all grown but i thought...there might be grandkids  who might gather and sell me sticks.   They would approve of that.

 

 

 

Picnic

 

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 is on Alyssia's Yellow House in town  where it's reaching its crescendo of repair.   

i walked down,  calling the Goats who were far off on the hill above the Canal Creek and they came and i opened the Gate and left it open and called and tho they were uneasy,  they came.   and could not believe their Luck.    i sat with them for about an hour as they moved through and over it all .    If it was the "Before Times",  it would have been a herd of deer.    They explored and ate things with great enthusiasm until  suddenly there was a sound....kind of a thud....i don't know what....the down the road neighbors boys were doing something....but they  responded by instantly forming  into a tight ball  and taking off   out the gate, up the hill.   i waited a while.   They didn't return.   Goats.   When i got back,   they were here,    waiting.   Chewing Cud.  Basking in the SunShine.    We will repeat.   Until it gets right.   Right meaning,   no fire fuel.  it's almost May.

as he wrote it. as it should have been yesterday

 

 

Life on Earth

Early morning i felt the urge to be InTouch with Wendy.  [Golden Levitt].   just a hello and Love,  and sent her an email.   Just that.  Within an hour,  received word back.  She is working again in the Studio,  and is collaborating with a boy who moved with his immediate family from Ukraine to Canada some 5 years ago,  who is "learning about war and the family has not heard from fifteen of their close relatives".   This morning,  at the Studio,  he wrote this.  She asked if she could share it.  He said yes.

Here in my awkward way

Protection                                                                                                                                                                                                                         a poem by Slav P.                                                                                                                                                                                                          age 11

I closed my eyes while I was so so so so so so                                                                                                                                                              scared.

I pretended I was in a hammock in the woods.  It was                                                                                                                                               very green.   It was very quiet.

I pretended that Grace's goats came to me,  snuggled                                                                                                                                               me,  lay under me.

I feel warm.  I feel protection.  I open my pretend eyes.  I                                                                                                                                         see the goat eyes.

I pretend I am sitting on the edge of their rectangle eyes.

 

I will see everything like a goat.                                                                                                                                                                                      you make your eyes rectangle                                                                                                                                                                                       and you can see things in a different way                                                                                                                                                                  to keep you safe                                                                                                                                                                                                               from all the bad noise of the world.

I hope one day to have a goat with me.                                                                                                                                                                         I will bring it to Wendy's place.                                                                                                                                                                                    I will make a soft pile for the resting of the goat                                                                                                                                                      on the magic feather cloth                                                                                                                                                                                            where it can look at all the stitching like I have                                                                                                                                                       for years.  it has magic.  because i now can make                                                                                                                                                    my eyes go rectangle.

only graces goats can know.                                                                                                                                                                                        all i have to do is touch the magic feather cloth.                                                                                                                                                       and maybe with goat eyes,  the world could be safe                                                                                                                                               again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  I love this idea.                                                                                                                                                                                                                 do you?     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

i sat.  my whole self swirling with sensation  i looked out the window,  the world was swirling,  i was swirling in it.                             Elizabeth Gilbert....that Intelligence....."it tries to find us in however we are most....that we can most find it".                                      I was found.   

After my breath returned,  I asked her if she could ask him if i might share his Poem here and he said:  "I read her blog.  so do my friends.  I would like it if she puts it up on her blog.  This feels good.

Slav.....Thank You for being you.    With all my Heart,  Thank you.      Wendy,    Everything......