February 8, 2011 by
Then I Saw The Ice:
January 25, 2011 by
My sleep was thick with dreams last night.
I woke up this morning with a thousand insights to share with you on the topics of love, beauty and truth.
I spent the day up the mountain from here, thigh deep in snow and aspen groves. By the time I saw the ice and heard the mountain water, nothing really mattered anymore…
Do please pardon my silence,
but what else is there to say?
I saw the ice.
I saw the patterns of nature —
the fall of shadow on snow,
the textures therein,
the cascade of beauty in all directions.
All my efforts in this life (my small, fumbling human attempts) felt pathetic and unoriginal.
I felt filled up and overflowing.
I felt drained and free of pride.
When I enter my studio next, it will be a place of humility, a nest of grace.
I am full with soul.
I am beneath this Wing.
Before it’s time.
January 4, 2011 by
At some point today, I looked out my studio window and realized that I needed to get closer to the sky.
I shrugged my way into layers of knits, wool, boots and tights, stepped out the door with Penelope and made for the hills.
There were two sharptail grouse sailing on a stiff wind pouring down from Kinport Peak.
Penelope chased voles through snow down into the roots of the sage.
The flower skeletons rattled about in the cold.
I tried to identify plants in their winter garb.
It’s sometimes difficult.
Have you ever had trouble recognizing people when the cold weather sets in? I’ll see friends about town, friends I know plenty well, only when they’re wearing coats and toques it takes me a time to recognize them in their new wintry garb.
It’s the same for the wildflowers and their naked little winter suits. I have to peer closely to know who I’m looking at.
I eventually left the trails to make my own paths.
I kept an eye peeled for furs and feathers and tracks and bird songs:
Beneath one juniper, a clattering of chickadees.
The loose coils of barbed wire hanging from my favorite fence line were drooping with cold.
The snow was holding memories.
As I walked, lines of poems jotted themselves down in my mind:
“…next time I will lean in to listen, as the trees do over deep waters…“
When my extremities began to hum with a faint numb
I made my way down off the West bench, through a wooded draw, across a road, through the streets to my front door.
My lips were dumb when I finally stepped inside the house
and already, the day was starting to fade, as winter days do, before we’re ready.
Before it’s time.
Christmas Holiday Accomplishments (in a nutshell)
December 31, 2010 by
There were lots of tasty eats, including breakfast at, The Griddle, located in Winnemucca, Nevada — look at the glorious green vinyl!
There was me, in my truck, writing 300 Christmas postcards for you! Don’t worry…I kept the message short…but if you’re wondering why the writing is messy it’s because Nevada highways are a wee bit bumpy.
There was one long haul drive across Idaho, Nevada and California to Christmas with the American side of our family in the sopping wet Oakland Hills.
There were a couple of quick runs through the redwood regional forest.
There was some squeezing on our niece and twin nephews (who are so darn active that I failed to secure a couple of good shots of them…every shot turned out monstrously blurry…next time…).
There was a fantastically commonwealth themed stocking for me, by Robert — he never fails to surprise me at Christmas.
There was some hunting for Zorro.
There was some hunting for the Farlinator (and a good thing too, he was becoming a tad neurotic after days of driving in a truck and lots of lazing about in Oakland).
There were small song birds.
There were whistling swans and buoyant ducks in the central valley of California.
There was a dash of hope, peace and joy in the wind.
Then there was the drive home, creeping across the central valley on highways choked with crazy California traffic.
There were a couple of nights in Grass Valley at the Krapfel homestead.
There was the half door in Nevada City.
There were those beautiful little homes wrapped in wreathes and garlands.
There were doors opened and doors closed.
There was a pastie (a 49er country phenomenon that’s a bit like a meat pie) for RW and a quinoa salad for me.
There were those twisting and turning California gold country roads that can make a girl feel queasy.
There was that little town called Rough and Ready that has always romanced me to the core.
Through the rain, there was a glimpse of my dream bug on Rough and Ready Road.
There was our 7 year wedding anniversary, on December 28th, just an hour away from the wee wedding chapel we eloped at in Reno!
There was Penelope as co-pilot.
Then there were two “required chains” sections on highways between Grass Valley and home, slow going with our wheels locked in high 4×4, a small ice storm in Nevada, ditches littered here and there with vehicles that failed to slow down for winter driving conditions, a wee blizzard white-out in Idaho just outside of Twin Falls and then finally, that moment when we rolled up and parked the truck at the curb in front of our little 103 year old farm house; fresh snow on the ground and bright stars in an ink black night sky.
Home.
There were two eggs for breakfast this morning. One from Winona and one from Rhonda. Apparently, Judith is taking a holiday from laying and since she’s my favorite hen, I’ll gladly allow her this!
Tonight is new years eve. We plan to spend it floating on our backs under the night sky at the local hot springs with Thai food take out for dinner afterward and then quiet in our home with tea, treats and perhaps a glass of nice wine or two.
We hope your Christmas holidays have been delightful with a pinch of the sacred buried well inside your heart of hearts.
Happy New Year to you, dear friends.
Love,
The Plumes
PS Now is a good time to mention that if you’ve not yet voted for your favorite Christmas Tree, you should do it as soon as possible since we’re beginning to tally votes! Thanks to every person to has taken a moment to vote!