Rattler

Here’s a quirky little narrative piece I whipped up in the studio today — inspired by a very rattlesnake-y ride I took on Hawk last summer right around this time. I finished a journal/sketchbook last week and while flipping through the tattered pages I came across this design idea I had roughly sketched up last summer and I said to myself, “I’m going to make this next week.” So I did.

What is depicted in this piece is basically what happened on that ride. We were headed out to Echo Canyon and a rattler had slithered out of a sagebrush and was laying in the warm red dust of a BLM two-track. It never rattled. We saw it only as we came upon it and Hawk launched himself over it like an Irish Sport Horse. I should have been horrified but I found myself laughing hysterically when we landed and we loped off toward the sun. It was a great night and a great ride.

This is a fun, one of a kind piece and it will be available in my shop later this week.

+Of The West+

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2020/07/10/15439/

Spangled

All five of these star spangled beauties will be available over in my shop on July 6th at 7PM (MST). Thank you for your interest!

+Of The West+

Stars

A peek at a necklace series I am working on for you — there will be five in lariat style featuring this speckled, old stock turquoise. I’ve been hoarding these stones for a full year. They’re precious to me. I’d actually like to keep hoarding them but I believe (I might be superstitious) that when I let go of really beautiful gems like this it makes space for another batch of wonderful gems to come my way.

I have been spinning my wheels a bit in the studio, unsure of my direction, and I said to myself, “Jillian, what is something you have enjoyed lately that has given you a feeling of freedom, spaciousness, quietude…” The answer was simple. Lately, on nights when the sky is clear, I load Penelope and Tater in the truck, leave Ernest to guard the homestead, and drive out to the canyon rim a few miles from the farm to camp for the night. It’s milky way season. I brew a cup of tea to ward off the cool of night and I sit out in the sagebrush for a while. The dogs root and toot around in the brush and I watch the galaxy spill out above me — wise, ancient, pure and enduring. When I crawl into the camper and sleep, coyote packs wake me through the night as they yip their roll call in the canyon. Their voices are magnified by the basalt cliffs and a pack of ten becomes a pack of one hundred as the echoes bounce and crash and reverberate. It’s glorious. It sounds wild enough that I wonder if they’re going to come and eat me. In the morning, I brew another cup of tea and sit in the sun, on the graceful skin of the earth, and I ponder on things for a while. When my tea is finished I return to the farm and take on the day.

This necklace is those nights under the stars in my home canyon.

Ode To Joy

I was not prepared for how piglets enter the world. I thought they would be flopsy, mopsy little things with soft bodies, closed eyes, and weak legs. I thought they would be like most other infants, dependent and helpless. It’s simply not true. When piglets are born they seem less like frail baby animals and more like tiny pigs. They are strangely dependent on their mother for milk yet somehow, they’re utterly precocious. They hit the ground trotting, marvelous, chunky things covered in velvet and clever spots. They drink their milk. They are endlessly hungry. They oink. They squeak. When I reach out to touch them they startle and leap off the ground, all four tiny pink hooves in the air. It’s hilarious. What is most surprising of all is that their tiny bodies are rock hard with muscles, thickly coiled and ready to spring. They are powerful animals from the moment they enter the world. It’s difficult to hold them because they thrash about with that miraculous strength, kicking and squealing and ramming with their heads like lilliputian gods of snouts and thunder. Snouts. Let me tell you about their snouts. Perfect, smooth, pink snouts. If there’s anything I would want to freeze in time it’s the snout of a piglet. I wish those snouts would never grow up, but they must because there is much rooting around to do. Sneezes. Let me tell you about their sneezes. They squeeze out by surprise like squeaky exclamations and I can’t help but laugh aloud each time I hear one of these cuties sneeze. They have some teeth. They nap in a pile. They are fearless. They enjoy sparring with one another and wrestling. They approach the chickens and the adult male pigs without hesitation, with great curiosity. They know they are the sons and daughters of Pumpernickle who is truly the Queen of our farmyard. Part of me wishes they were more sleepy and snuggly like puppies and kittens but it’s also a relief to be finished with mothering things for the season. I’ll keep documenting these porkers for you over the weeks to come. I can’t believe how quickly they are growing, they have almost doubled in size in the span of a week. Four piglets is a really nice number for our place — two boys and two girls. I am thoroughly enjoying their company. Pumpernickle is a wonderful mum. She is protective but comfortable with us handling her babies. She is always extremely careful when she lays down to nurse so she doesn’t squash any piglets. She is sensitive, attentive, and always keeps a watchful eye. She’s such a great pig. We’re grateful to have her and her kiddos are a joy to behold.