digging deeper

who can say why certain things...
shapes, colors, textures, 
animals, even,
who can say why they speak to you, 
to one, in a certain specific, peculiar way.
perhaps they appear in dreams or day dreams, 
maybe hormone driven, 
maybe longing
maybe something altogether 
unknown or unknowable
but for whatever reason this shield i found on facebook
a first nations thing
pleases me.

 i was looking for tiny beads to use with the loom books
(i accumulated an embarrassment of old beads)
i was looking for the greasy yellow ones.
 some live in type trays
which is ridiculous in too many ways.
 2
these two strand sets are small and beautiful
and i see now 
that they are colors i used a long time ago in a tapestry.
 i lifted them out of the little wooden rectangle
that had become a cache.
field mice leave little stashes in my world,
and often i don't know the seeds. 
but here is, 
amongst others, 
milkweed.
 cottontail is large now
and doesn't show itself often.
 elsewhere in my back yard
november arrives
indoors 
there is a wonderful type event happening when the morning sun 
bathes the studio table in light.
two loom books completed, one with drawing,
and soon a larger one.
today i'm pulping 3 linen shirts.
an edition is planned!

talking with a coyote

yesterday was another weirdly warm day,
 too warm for jeans.
after supper while i was doing some fabric reclamation 
picking some really bad embroidery out of a piece of linen
to make paper with.
i heard them,
the coyote family i've been paying attention to all year.
i went out on my porch to listen, marveling at the warm evening
(and still pissed off about picking up a tick in it
-yes- 
in my YARD)
the family was spread out, some responding from pretty far off and then one howled
just across the road in the brush by my neighbors house, a young one!
then it barked. barked again. so i barked. quiet, then another bark. i barked.
and an exchange ensued, coyote kid and crone in training barking. 
i don't speak coyote, but i have been listening all year,
and i've never heard a single coyote bark for so long,
responding to my cadence and short barks,
so i know there was reciprocation. 
i finally stopped, afraid that that one's curiosity might tempt it across the road
which would not be good. 
my heart sang, or rather barked, all night long.
~~~
two books are brewing
a loom book and a landscape book.
loom book dummy:
it's blurry, but:

                                    and now to build a bigger and better loom book
                                              and see what my needle weaves.