The Life and Times of the Plume — Page 201

Go Picking Wildflowers

May 30, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

On a lazy, rainy Sunday

I go walking to where the mountain spins gold.

I pour my heart into the dirt as I exchange pieces of myself

for pieces of earth charm.

To take is to give, to take without giving is the ultimate imbalance.

The meadow larks flutter their song and wrap their wings about the softness of each other.

A moose spells sanctuary and tranquility with each drooping movement of its velvet roman nose.

Over in the thickness of the draw, pheasant roosters crow endlessly about their handsome tails.

Hawk eyes see all.

I carefully select my bouquet.

I bruise, bend and snap stalks as I build a petaled trophy for the windowsill at home.

The wind comes in waves.

The clouds sail fast into Wyoming.

I bed down in the tall grasses,

like a tawny deer,

and watch the rain come down the mountain.

Filed Under: city creek, idaho, mountains, rocky mountains

True Story

May 27, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

It’s been a right crazy week

and I will now tell you about last night:

Last night, Plum was sick, all night long. She spent a full eight hours howling or pooping or doing both at the same time. I didn’t sleep a wink and I had the responsibility of cleaning everything up this morning.

I was feeling downright depressed by noon.

I went to the post office.

I took myself out for lunch.

While lunching, I wrote one of my best friends a letter and told her all about it.

When I looked over what I had written, it all seemed so funny to me! I laughed out loud, where I sat, alone at my bistro table.

Then, to really cheer myself up, I went out and bought a new houseplant.

Jasmine.

When I walked past it in the nursery, one of its tendrils grabbed my hair and I knew I had to take it home with me. Additionally, it smelled so dang blasted good, it would have been sinful to have left it behind.

Sin.

Full.

Now, despite the horror of last night and this morning, I have wings on my heels.

Sometimes we take everything so seriously.

The moments in time that we find so blindingly affecting and stressful are mere drops of water in the oceans that are our lifetimes. Sometimes those things that stir us up and make us blue are nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

So.

Put your wings back on your heels.

And fly.

Don’t let anything pin you down.

That’s what I did.
xx

:::Post Scriptus:::
I’ve owned these mustard tights for over two years and just today I put a big snaggle in them, is that a great lifespan for a set of tights or WHAT???

:::Post Scriptus Scriptus:::
The world smells so amazing right now!
I’ve shut my mouth and resorted to
nose breathing because I don’t want to
squander a single opportunity to smell
the squelch and hum of nectar on the breeze.

:::Post Scriptus Scriptus Scriptus:::
Who’s going camping this weekend?

Filed Under: just rambling, oh you know

Service Announcement

May 26, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

Bonjour, my friends!

Just a quick note to say that with RW’s departure for the fire season, I’ve found myself smack dab in the middle of my summer transition here which involves settling in solo, generally not sleeping at night, being overwhelmed by how filthy every nook of my home is and freaking out about how much there is to do every single day!

It’s taking me even longer than usual to get on top of my pile of email and Etsy correspondence, especially after my recent holiday, and I’m trying to not feel stress about it by telling myself, every hour or so, that everything will get done. Eventually! What is bringing me immense comfort is making sure that I take some time to do creative work every single day.

I’m chipping away a little bit at everything, all at once, and while it might not be a fantastic small business strategy, it’s easier on my soul this way.

I’m so sorry if I have you tapping your fingernails impatiently in regards to my correspondence delay.

And I’m so thankful, as always, for your grace.

Hopefully I’ll get The Gables in ship shape over the next few days.

And that’s that, in a nutshell.

Have a beautiful evening!

With abiding affection,

The Plume

Filed Under: service announcement

Earrings For Riding In Trucks

May 25, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

I wanted to create, for myself, a pair of big, bohemian-esque, countrified earrings.

Pretty and rustic.

Earrings I could wear while riding in my truck this summer.

Here’s what I came up with!

I love mine so well that I decided to make a few pairs for you — big and small. I’m not a leather worker but I’ve used leather here as I would sterling silver. These earrings are simple, sassy and lightweight, stamped conservatively with a western style leather stamps and antiqued a gorgeous saddle tan. They’re like wearing feathers. They have a beautiful leathery smell like you’ve been hanging out in the tack shed soaping saddles all afternoon. They’re perfect earrings for riding in trucks.

Or, I suppose, riding on subways.

Or riding on bicycles.

Or anything else you can think of…

…they’re just perfect.

In the shop now!

x

:::EDIT:::
WOWEE!
Thanks so much ladies for snaggling these earrings up so quickly!
I appreciate you so much!
Now I’m going to go buy some spinach.
x

Filed Under: leather, riding in trucks, summer

Part Three

May 25, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

Talulah rolled us down the mountain like a spinning seed on the wind,

then she rolled us back up the mountains into Hailey where we stopped at a restaurant for a shockingly delicious supper (he had lamb, I chose the gaucho steak). We felt a tad out of place. We felt grubby and under dressed. RW’s curls were more feral looking than usual and I was sporting sun blasted cheeks with braids wrapped up and over the top of my head.

We looked like an Irish fisherman and his wife.

Despite our greatest efforts, our boots loudly clomped us over to a corner table, we leaned in together and quietly talked or sat in easy silence while listening to the hilarious, high-end conversations swirling around us. When we left, we tipped big, because even though we found ourselves bobbing about in a senseless sea of ill-informed snobbery, the food was incredible and the service wonderfully smooth and relatively invisible.

Camping that night, just up the pass from Ketchum, was very cold and wet. The conifers wore fresh white in the morning and I was chilled to the marrow and beyond.

We coasted back down the mountain for hot drinks and breakfast. I bought and wrote silly postcards for friends and family.

RW had a drippy nose.

Later that morning, we chugged over Galena pass in the Sawtooths at 8701 feet — the highest highway summit in the Northwest! Winter combed her cold fingers over our rig, Plum shivered on the back seat, I could feel the frost creeping through the fibers of my very being. Alabaster breath pouring from my lips. RW drove with his fists shut tight, steering with the soft sides of his wrists. Some places are harder to thaw than others, just like people, spring can come slowly or not at all.

We found Stanley, faint green, at the base of the Sawtooth front and trickled out of town beside the roar of the Salmon River. A brief stop at Sunbeam hot springs allowed me to stand in my galoshes in hot water and thaw out my feet. We slipped into the heart of Idaho, up through Challis, and finally to the destination of the day, Goldbug hot springs. A few miles of uphill hiking took us into the quintessential Idaho hot springs complete with a spectacular view and a stiff, cold wind.

To my left, an ancient juniper. To my right, a roaring waterfall, behind me, RW sunning himself on a boulder and below me, the mountains tumbling away into forever.

I hummed to myself, as I soaked:

…we run like a river

runs to the sea

we run like a river to the sea…

[U2]

The golden hour arrived and we made our way up to Salmon and then started out across the majestic Lemhi Valley towards home. There was an eternal hunt for a place to camp, gale force winds that tried to push the bus off the highway, the wrong BLM road that took us to:

a herd of black angus,

a split rail fence,

Talulah stalling,

a short and tidy spat due to low blood sugar and freezing temperatures,

apologies,

a rock behind the back wheel of the bus and four hands steering, shifting and pulling the e-brake off.

There was a campsite finally, out of sheer desperation, in the middle of the sage flats on federal land, a full moon, an empty fuel canister, cold soup for dinner, the slap of the wind on the side of Talulah as we slept fitfully through the night, spooned up tight against each other, my arm reaching out of my own sleeping bag to wrap around the warmth of RW’s shoulders.

In the morning, the unforgettable and lonesome Lemhi Valley.

Desolate and wild.

Snow capped in the sun and blanketed in sage as far as the eye could see.