Up the mountain, the junipers bear their flowers in the spindrift and sunshine. These are winter blooms to beat back the lackluster of dark days.
The Juniper Flower Neckpiece
[sterling, copper and enamel]
Juniper Flower
December 10, 2011 by
Ski In Ski out
December 9, 2011 by
I’m not going to kid you, I had a heck of a time deciding which skis to use on this trip. I was really craving a good skate ski session or two so I chose skate skis right out of the gate, hiked the half mile to my trail head with my poles and blades slung over my shoulder, skied another mile further down the trail before I reconciled myself to the fact that skate skis were not the right choice. I dumped my pack in a snowbank, skied all the way back to the truck (downhill, thank God), swapped out my boots and skis for my classics, waxed up and then took to the road again.
The forest was so quiet. It was eerie. My breathing came in white, dragon puffs. Eventually I heard a pair of crows, roosting in the skeleton of a lodge pole pine, clearing their throats at me but besides those croaking songs, there was only the swish of my skis and the squeaky plying of my poles digging in and pushing off.
Six miles later, I drifted into the Warm Creek spring cabin, pure gossamer steam in the late afternoon light, laced with the silly honking of a flock of Canada geese and the ever green leaning of lodge pole pine in every direction. I pulled my boots from their bindings, unlocked the door, stepped inside and immediately felt homesick and deeply lonesome for RW. I started a fire in the kitchen wood stove, drew a pot of water from the spring and began heating water for soup. Downstairs, I put a solid hour into chopping wood, sparking up some flickering comfort in the wood furnace and dicing small kindling for the kitchen stove in the morning. Outside, night was falling. There I was alone, in one of those precarious moments when an introvert realizes they would prefer to be with someone than to be solely with self. It was a strange feeling and I ached with it.
The dark arrived all too soon.
I lit candles and wrote in the dimness of flame waverings. The furnace chimney pinged with expansion. Hot air was rushing through the floor grate so rapidly that it raised my hair off my back and soon I broke a sweat. I opened the doors to let winter air mingle with the tropical heat of the cabin. I cracked my knuckles and lifted my pen to paper once more. The dogs crawled into my sleeping bag and nodded off. I wanted to join them but I knew that sleep wouldn’t yet come. At some point the moon rose up against the asphalt of sky, the stars pricked holes in the black, a flock of geese flew through the golden light streaming and landed at the spring — I felt less alone. I went downstairs, threw five more rounds into the furnace, trotted back upstairs and crawled into my sleeping bag to read for three hours by headlamp. At midnight, the cabin grew cold and I tended the furnace once more, opened the doors to let the cold temper the heat, laid down and then rose up again an hour later to tend the furnace once again and so on through the night. Eventually the night faded. Eventually I fell asleep for a couple of hours until the dogs became restless and we rose for the day.
In the morning, I knew I simply wanted to go home. I told myself I would stoke the furnace four more times and then let it die and depart for the truck.
I pulled my watercolor paints from my pack, sketched my best memory from the night and then flooded the paper with color.
I made soup for lunch, a cup of coffee just to feel slightly studious, and sat on the steps outside to watch the steam peacefully rise off the river.
The furnace burned down, I waxed my skis, pulled my down jacket off and stuffed it in my pack. I put everything in its place, snapped the toes of my boots into ski bindings and then made long gliding strides for home.
I do these solo trips because I like to know that I can.
I like to know that I haven’t gone city soft.
I like to know that I’m capable and I can take care of myself.
I like to feel the trembling and tenuous nature of survival. I like to strike matches with cold hands. I like to make a fire when a fire counts most and slurp my soup, raise a spoon to mouth, with the very last grains of energy I can muster after a long, cold, hard day.
I like to know I’m a survivor, that I’m tough when it counts most, that there’s a tenacious silver strand of strength that ties my soul to my bones.
I like to know that I am not easily undone. If this is true in the woods where it counts, it’s true in the jungles of life as well and I find solace in that. Great solace.
When I arrived back at the truck, I began the drive home and received a call from Robert who was very surprised to hear my voice.
He asked me where I was, I told him I was in the truck headed home! He asked why I had left the cabin a full day early and my response was this:
“I just wanted to be home, I missed you terribly and keeping that damn wood furnace lit was a real bugger.“
TRANSLATION: I went out into the cold and the cold was too alone.
The funny thing is this, RW is hunting birds on the West side of Idaho. When I came home, I was still alone, but I felt surrounded by the essence of him and us and we and my world felt less solitary which, strangely enough, was exactly what I needed my world to feel like in that moment.
Less of lessness and more of moreness.
I hope you all had a wonderful week.
Glide on, sweet souls.
x
December 5, 2011 by
What the heck! I say, what the heck.
It’s been such a beautiful day here! Can you say the same?
This morning, we strolled the dogs down by the river and noted that it finally froze up. Steam was rising from open patches of swirling mountain water and the trees and tall grasses lining the banks were hoary with frost. Nature is a lace maker. I see it time and time again.
This afternoon, I took myself for an eight mile run. My sweat was turning to ice in the flat sections of trail. I thawed out while hill climbing. I took off my sunglasses, covered my chin with windbreaker and was dazzled by the snow, the whiteness of the hills and the sun stuck tight, for a matter of moments, on the crest of Kinport Peak. In the distance, while heading Northwest, I could see the Lemhis, Beaverheads and the Buttes out on the Snake River Plain — glistening in the light cast by the sinking sun. The rocky top of Scout Mountain blushed pink with alpine glow. It was good running. It was gorgeous being. When I arrived home again I fell into a hot bath, scrubbed the sweat away, deep conditioned, and soaked in the clawfoot. I was hungry as a bear, so I ate like one.
The mail came! I love the mail! There were Christmas cards from some of you — oh joy! Oh joy of my heart and the fullness and light of the Advent season! There was this utterly beguiling wing bolero from the talented and kind Ayla up at Hold Your Ground. Ayla, it fits like a glove and is soft as a feather. I wear it and am a white dove riding through quartz crystal rains.
And now, I am most ingloriously going grocery shopping because while I’d love to laze about in the parlor daintily nibbling rhubarb pie while sipping rooibos tea, I have real life details to tend to. Everybody say, “Boooo hisssss.” Whilst out, I may do a dash of Christmas shopping for the handsome and rather strapping RW (known by some as The Smoke Daddy). He has requested all sorts of absurd things that will keep him alive and well next time he’s in the middle of nowhere on a hunting trip or lost in the barren lands, I can’t help but comply.
In the days to come, there will be the official announcement and call for your Christmas tree photographs! It’s that time of year again, can you believe it? We had…I think…125 entries last year? RW will be editing images and building this contest blog post for days this year! We are delighted and excited and thrilled to once again share this season with you.
Be well, dear hearts.
Until we meet again!
x
December 1, 2011 by
It’s been a schmazzy sort of day here. Before it really began it was already ending so I salvaged what I could, hopped on my bicycle and pedaled about Old Town for a stint. I stopped off at the Aveda salon and spent my entire $100 gift card on shampoo, conditioner, face wash, spray in conditioner and then they were all sweet-like and told me, “If you buy just one more big bottle of something you can have 20% off your purchase…” And so I bought one more big bottle of something or a tube of ruby exfoliator or some other sort of beautiful smelling stuff and felt like I had spoiled myself NOT quite enough rotten so then I made an appointment for a hair cut and a massage tomorrow evening. You have to give me credit, when I decide to take care of myself I really go berserkers. Don’t I? After the stop at Aveda I strolled into my favorite used bookery and asked Will if he had any old books I could deface and indeed he did! I took myself out for a sushi lunch where I chopsticked my way through a rainbow roll while writing four full pages in my journal. The girl at the table next to me had a nice turquoise ring. I told her so. A quick buzz over to my favorite vintage shop found me some fantastic vintage czech glass beads (turquoise cats, if you must know) and a nice chat with the lovely Laura. After lunch I pedaled over to the warehouse district and snagged a nice little latte from my girl Amy and then we talked for a bit before I went to the bead store (holy raw amethyst crystals!!!) and then home to take a few photos of some new jewelry. All in all, quite a nice afternoon schmazzily squandered! I quite like these sorts of days. They always come along right when I need to treat myself and get out of the house for a bit.
I’ve been meaning to tell you a bit about the books I have been reading. In the past thirty days or so I have read ten books, I’ve been a bit voracious. The handful I really want to tell you about are these:
Running in the Family By Michael Ondaatje who is SUCH a magnificent wordsmith — I have adored anything he has ever written and have read The English Patient on three different occasions whilst traveling by train in Europe…..this is ONE OF MY FAVORITE CANADIAN AUTHORS EVER. Prepare to laugh hysterically. I mean it. This book is such a gem and sweepingly embraces the idea of family as well as the quirks of humanity. I love it. Deeply.
Breaking Clean by Judy Blunt — I cruised this book. I cruised it like I was wearing turbo charged sneakers while running flat terrain at sea level. Seriously. Charged the whole thing straight through without even taking a moment to breathe. If you are of the prairies, if your heritage is rooted in land, if you are a woman, you NEED to read this book. It’s tragic. It’s true. It’s handsome. It’s strong. Oh gosh, I may read it again tonight. This is a sacred book to me and reminds me greatly of Sharon Butala’s novels which are centered around female characters and ranching in Saskatchewan. Just breathtaking, crippling and victorious – simultaneously.
The Family of Man which is really a book of images. What I love about it is the way it offers a peek into the scope of humanity. I love the way these images focus on the life details that draw us together as humans. The images are diverse, the common thread is that they feature people. I love to note commonality, to illuminate the threads that bind us together as humans so this collection appeals to me. It’s beautiful. I get lost in it and find myself sighing aloud. People are special. So special.
Life here is raw, glittering, crystal purple. I hope you can say the same.
x
PS Did I tell you it snowed here yesterday? All that white falling so prettily while I watched out the big window of the studio. It was so gorgeous. It was so purifying. I love my workspace best in the wintertime when the light is always careful and blue and the mountains are rising white and defined across the street. Just spectacular and inspiring.
Holy Cats! It worked!
November 30, 2011 by
I’ve been working on this beauty for a couple of days now with the kiln running double overtime in the studio. It turned out so beautifully and is built of sterling and ten enameled (and counter enameled) copper components that were hand pierced, filed and formed before being sifted and fired multiple times. Gosh. I can’t believe the design worked! What a sweet little victory!