Vermilion

I'm hungry for color.

I lay awake in bed last night for what felt like hours (it may have been), listening to the melodic song of the wind chimes and the pounding of the rain on the roof.  Every now and then the rhododendron planted right on the other side of the wall from my head would thump loudly and I'd jump, whacking a kitty boy out of his snoring slumber curled up in the crook of my legs (yes. the orange one snores like an old yoda).  I finally gave in, clicked on the bedside lamp and attempted to pour my thoughts down in my sketchbook (I find, without fail, the nights I leave my sketchbook elsewhere in the house are the nights a steady stream of thoughts interrupt my sleep until I am forced to sneak out of bed and retrieve it).  But all I could write about was color.  Sing gave me one disdainful sleepy-glare and crawled under the covers to be spooned (also yes. the kitty boys have learned that under the covers is a magical world of warmth and snuggles, provided they don't suffocate.  we tell them it's the risk they take and that all good things come with a price).

Yesterday, alongside a cornmeal-berry scone I wrote to a friend about the phenomena that is living in a world of evergreens.  Right here on the coast, with the ocean waters lapping no less than one mile from my front door, I'm surrounded by dense verdant, a constant canopy of emerald and a floor of jade.  The rains have marked the turning of the season, as though someone promptly flipped a switch, turned down the thermostat and declared it officially Autumn.  I know my toes are colder, and I've bought three new pairs of tights in the past two weeks (grey cabled sweater, herringbone in cream and black, and a deep berry red), so it must be true.

I suppose what this means is that I must open my eyes a little wider to catch the crimson fluttering down. I must spend a little more time trespassing in neighbors' yards scooping up great handfuls of scarlet to bring home and press in the treasure trove that is the back of my sketchbook (currently pressing a massive quantity of ferns, fallen leaves and crow feathers - it's a dangerous item to carry around, like Gretel I leave a trail of fallen items to find my way home).  I must eat more pomegranates.  But that's the easy part.  

* * * * *

Off to pour a second cup of tea and put up a fresh inspiration wall in the studio.

oh yes!

SPEAKING of color, I'm in the market for some mustard colored tights, not halloween yellow, not pale buttercup, but MUSTARD (my other newest color obsession).  Any leads ladies?

New Duds

That's right.  We're saying it right here, right now.  All thanks to my friend Brian, one of the kings of Catholic Beer, and his faithful silk screen.

I definitely need some fries with this shake.

boom shakalaka!

In other news, I just completed this new stone.  The rain has been falling steady, trickling down my window panes and tapping on the skylights.  The temperatures dropped a touch when dawn broke the cover and the sparrows doubled their efforts at emptying the feeders in the back, lining their bellies with the fat of thistle seeds and leaving small gifts of down and chatter behind for me.

If I could, I would weave you tale with no words, delicately stitching in the way Autumn falls on the earth here.  Quietly.  Less riot and and more whispering.  

And just because I'm excited, this newest piece is in the shop now, rather than awaiting the next update.

Cheerio ye bonnie birds!

Research and Development Dove-Style

I do love an honest work day.

On Today's (or not) Shop Update

So like I mentioned just a bit ago, it IS Wednesday.  

And therefore the day I was planning on hosting a little textile shop update.  That is, up until doctor's appointments took over.  Blerk.  I'm terribly sorry but I'll need to postpone the update until next week as I'm now off to sit in waiting rooms reading old copies of Martha Steward magazine (which I don't mind) and showing off the artistry of my jewelry friends to the nurses at the infusion clinic.  I'm on a mission to hook each and ever one of those women on my immensely talented friends and let me tell you, they're falling hook, line and sinker.

Handcrafted art = The very best

Afternoons of doctor's appointments = needs sushi to make up for it.

Wearing a toque with pom poms = right up my alley

Morning Details

Well here it is Wednesday.

The fog has rolled right up the hillside from the ocean, soaking through the field of cypress and juniper across the street, leaving swollen droplets on every surface it touches.  The air feels flat, dense, and when I hold my hand outstretched dew settles on my skin.  Fifty yards out the trees begin to fade away as though my knowledge of them exists only in memory.  The sun, I know, is searching for a crack to begin warming the soil but for now, a damp chill permeates.

I stand outside and shiver slightly.  I'm still in my pjs.  Somewhere inside a mug of earl grey tea with warmed soy milk is cooling.

My toes, wearing worn out slippers send shivers up my spine and I know the first cup of tea has hit.  But the spiders have dressed their webs in the finest lights and I can't bring myself to go back in just yet.

Plus, the boys don't mind the damp.

And to be quite honest, neither do I.

Tell me about your morning birds:

What are you drinking?  What are you wearing?  What fresh bit of light has touched your nose today?  Inquiring minds (a.k.a. ME) want to know!

A Shoal of Stones

May I interest you in a lovely side of sea stone?  Perhaps a slice of feathered flight or a nibble of elk antler?  Or maybe the twitch of a jackrabbit's nose?

Today's shop update will commence at 1:00 pm PST with a puff of smoke and a twinkle of sparklers.  I might even call it a party.  Angelfood cake with fresh cream and the season's last strawberries on me.  

(oh and p.s.  The textile shop update has been postponed until Wednesday October 20th, probably about the same time.  Smooch!)

Play Dates

 

Have you met this hunka hunka burning woman?  A few months back I had the pleasure of her crashing right though the blogosphere and into my living room and I've begged her to do it again, this time bringing her manly mister along too (THEY'RE CELEBRATING THEIR TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY - POP ON BY HER BLOG AND WISH THEM CONGRATS!).  And if you do know Sunny Rising through the interwebs, then let me tell you: she is just as stunning, just as brilliant, just as genuine as I'm sure you suspect she is.  Pure sunshine.

I adore her more and more all the time.  She's like a shot of Vitamin C straight to the heart.

Miss Sunny Rising: You illuminated my day.  Come shine up my world anytime.

p.s.

BC likes you too.

Bunny Bunny What?

I honestly cannot believe it's already Thursday!  My weeks have such a strange cadence that I find myself musing over what a long weekend it's been, only to realize the week has steam rolled right on by.  But I'm back, some new *plumbing in my chest, and recovering well from Round 4, a.k.a. the half-way marker.  I've got an exquisite pile of sea stones gathered from the coast last week spread out on the dining room floor and an even larger stack of them on my studio desk.  I've filled pages and pages this week in my sketchbook, pouring out heart-song and heart-tears, making room in the well of me for more creative energy to pour forth.  And it has.

I find it amazing that we, breathing, thinking, creating humans have access to a bottomless well-spring of inspiration.  That when we ask, we really do receive.  That as an artist, images "stick" to me, I mull them over in my mind, commit them to paper or canvas or stone, and then one day the image shifts ever so subtlety.  I look at it from a new angle, through a new refraction, and suddenly new meaning floods the gates and I can not grab for a pencil fast enough.  As if I needed to work with the subject, study it, commit to it, before the deepest concept could be grasped.  Does this make any sense to you?  It's one of those whispery, flutter things that refuses to be pinned down by my words.

I also feel that I should tell you I'm bald as a jay bird these days.  While it's been my reality for going on a month now, I've not had the heart to talk about it publicly (I know you'll forgive me, but it's been one of those things I just couldn't unpry my fingers from).  The mohawk didn't stay around for too long before throwing in the towel, but I gelled that puppy tight to my head just as long as I could.  It's an odd feeling, this whole no-hair-business, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it threw me for more of a loop than I ever anticipated.  I'm coming to terms, new every day, but this stage, it's kinda rough.

However I've got the love of a great man who brings me new bandanas in brilliant shades of green and blue, and the determination to stand up even straighter and walk this line too.  

*****

OH YES

All of this other fluff almost caused me to forget!  Plan on a DOUBLE shoppito update Monday the 18th, starting sometime around after-breakfast-and-shower-o'clock which probably means noon PST (my mother gave me a mild chiding for not giving her a time frame last round, but MUMS, don't worry!  I've always got special love for you!).

There will be sea stones, adorned in floating feathers and ghostly antlers, quails and rabbits and more OH MY!

There will be new textiles; pillows of linen and love, in imagery that I'm going to make you wait for (heehee)!

I'll be posting a blog preview here before any new creations land light in the shops, so hold fast little chickadees!

With that, I'm off to eat a huge pile of lettuce decorated with carrots, chickpees and avocado.

* I kid you not, the doctor who placed the port gave a little chuckle and called it plumbing as he explained the procedure to me.  PLUMBING! *

Round Four Here We Go

Just a quick note, as it's well past the hour I should have hit the hay and my eyelids are drooping fast.

I'll be up and out of bed with the sparrows, as there has been a [very] minor complication with my veins and I'm heading in today for a procedure (side note: is that not one of the more ominous words in the English language?) wherein a port for chemo will be placed in my chest (click here if you would like a little more info on it).  

Really it reminded me of how amazingly intelligent our bodies are; my veins said "Hello, what is that you're pumping in through this IV?  Something toxic?  Well no-ho-ho thank you!  I think I'll just shut down for a few."  And I don't blame them one bit.  But the treatment-show must go on.  So in I go.

After the quasi-surgery, if all goes well, I'll be heading to my next appointment for Chemo Round Four, which puts me officially at the half way marker (HUZZAH!).  I'm marking these, checking them off and not looking back.  

That said, goodnight moon and goodnight doves.  I'll see you next week!

Cuter than a Can of Spam

And tastier to boot, is my parent's little Vintage Cardinal trailer on it's maiden voyage through the redwoods of the north.  We called it home base while we traversed forest and fields, chattering and clucking for hours, sitting in quiet contemplation.

Mug after mug of piping coffee, steam rising up to greet the dawn song of the birds.  Hands full with crow feathers, jay feathers, and one small pup who could melt the heart of the hardest stone.

Raccoons scuttling in as soon as Mars shone bright, leaving prints of ash and mud for us to guess their sizes.  Creatures with a multitude of legs and creatures with none, joining us for first meals of the day.

And the small things, the minuscule, the detritus, the ephemeral bits of moss and the tiny legs of lichen, we took them all in.

And the light, oh that light...

Woods and water, these things fill my cup to overflowing.  And so I drink deep, ducking my head low to catch the spill and lap up all that goodness.

Honest Truth

I barely had time to grab Pierre and a pair of boots before running nilly willy outside, but this is the view from my kitchen window.  Right now.  Fingers numb as icicles and head bare as a jay bird, but

OH!  

I'm sitting at my kitchen counter bathed in that persimmon light, harvest flowers in a mason jar and a steamy mug of "get relaxed" tea at my elbow, sorting through the plethora of photos from this last week and working on a Post of Pictorial Delights just for you.  You want lichen? I've got some.  Seascapes?  Hello lover!  Twenty cups of coffee in an assortment of vintage mugs?  Yep, I've got 'em too.

But.

I've also got a hankering for brownies.  So that may need to happen first, after all, priorities are priorities, right?