last night as i was working at my studio table i heard a sort of shuffling sound. i knew that behind me in the window there was a something. there were four cocoons on sticks, you may have seen in the last post here. there were still four cocoons, but also a brand new beautiful cecropia walking on the glass. i was a little afraid that cecropia would fly and get stuck somewhere in the wilderness of this room, or be found by a mouthy puppy, so i carefully, quickly put it into the newly arrived moth house (along with the cocoons). within 10 minutes cecropia was outside in the woods, soon to be searching first for a mate and then to die. they have no mouth parts and their lives in this phase are short, but oh so beautiful. it’s my hope to find caterpillars here soon. and another hope, that all four cocoons are viable.

beautiful markings, colors, this one was almost pulsating with newness, wildness, delight

abstraction: every photo, fair or poor, i’ve kept

here I hold the stick hoping to get a good photo before cecropia flies, which happened directly after this shot.

there are still four cocoons, i can’t tell which one is empty. all four are in the house, in the window, and i am checking frequently.

this week i completed one more tiny skein of tussock moth silk and wound skeins for washing. there is also a narrative and there will be an artists’ book. another tiny adventure.

always a huge challenge to work with, thought my hands are learning

silks in a basket made years ago by debbie schwendy

i’ve been in the studio at slu making prints, dyeing, cleaning and organizing and it’s saved my life. absolutely. planning new work is beginning to delight my thoughts. also, my students are done with class work (though not all work is complete and some have been out of touch) some amazing zines were made. in absentia, in the time of corona.

hepatica, white and pink, along the roadside growing in all the grit and duff from winter plowing.

this is hepatica, that seven petaled spring perfection. so far: coltsfoot, hepatica, spring beauties, trillium, dutchman’s breeches, and now, dandelions. if it could be spun it would be perfect to spin it on the hepty, henry edwards wonderful spindle.

feeling that despite the plethora of ticks this spring (i’ve lost count of how many i’ve removed from the three of us) i might get through this time. going through this rough patch, i count blessings, moths and silk and wildflowers and all, knowing my first world problems are fixable, but that for so many people here in new york state and beyond that funny contour line this will remain a terrible time. a terrible time all around the world. but there are moths, stories, friends who check in.