(t)here and back again

 i received two men's robes

both cotton indigo that my friend found in japan

 i promptly washed them.

the lined one had accumulated years of dirt and dust which 

i washed once 

and rinsed at least a dozen times.

 both pieces dried on a very  hot day in a very 

short time.

are scented now with north country summer

not dust.

 the ikat patterning on the lined piece

 and the lining

 nearby

 the chimney brick with the lichen patterning sits in the sun

it has become the perch of some bird--lots of what we as kids used to call bird-do 

but still color that inspires me.

 i have been making some contact prints with the square flax sheets

and cloth, this is old cotton 

 here you can see a flax square

and the red daylily spent blossoms.

  the flax square still wet

 concrete steps are the perfect background, if narrow.

 and i made some more linen paper.

justaposition:

a.  plain raw flax paper                                           b. linen fabric, my sister's pants by Flax

c.  two sheets of the above with fabric inclusion    d. linen paper (made solely from above 

                                cloth 

 i decided to travel to maine

and then i undecided

 and took a happy walk yesterday evening

 overlooked by luna

 below that sky was the july harvest baled for the neighbor's cattle.

first time i ever remember it being cut almost on time.

evening shadows.

 two pair of little ruby throated hummingbirds played at the feeders 

this morning. 

 i'm wearing cotton socks on my feet today, 

celebrating happy respite from the humid heat.

over on fb i found a photo of two of my favorite australians

that i just had to share.

colleen and brian

collen of the astonishing hair, brian enwrapped in a hat and scarf,

probably needled by colleen.

and the title above? 

i was going to maine today.

but i decided not to. i love my maine family

i wanted to see them and 

see the ocean and

visit the arctic museum

but

i wanted to stay home, 

with the round bales and the hummingbirds

and the cresent moon

and the blessed cool weather, more.

i am off to make more prints and paper

and hang out my laundry and go to town

to resume mail delivery.

i'm home for a while.

hortus

sometimes i remember to make a record

somehow

of what i'm doing.

why, i wonder,

because it's like this: all the making of all the years of all the ideas

concertina themselves

(which is also why i forget things...)

become one thing only: 

a life in a place.

here.

the new place i call home

(while i still live in the old place called home)

is rich in ridges.

concertina landscape

this ridge i've cleaned out,

the slope is steeper than it looks,

and my partner moved some rocks that are available 

to become part of a garden.

 it's resting now, as winter comes on. 

that meadow 

the ridge points to,

i've seen a coyote lope through

pausing now and again one morning

and i've watched three deer, no four

make their way up to the ridge, 

over and around it.

i saw a mink scurry past the tip of this ridge.

here and gone, quick quick!

today, as yesterday,

i walked around home, old home

gethering greens

and tiny blossoming goldenrods, three fern species,

wild grapes, applemint

rose, honeysuckle, and raspberry leaves

and one rose hip

thick staghorn sumac antlers.

the goldenrod flowers shock me

blossoming on the regenerated growth

after the august field mow.

all this abundance in the middle 

of november!

all this abundance when

it's likely as not frozen and gray and brown and harsh.

today i walked briefly

tired after six hours of printing,

and i saw myself being watched

by a young, furry and large-eared doe.

a this year fawn, 

mostly grown up

attending to me ("is she safe, is she crazy?")

as i went up my walk:

"hello, little one, i'm going in the house, 

eat well and safely there

my friend."

she stood alert,

watching as i went indoors.