The Life and Times of the Plume — Page 230

Dans le Studio/In The Habitat

October 27, 2010 by The Noisy Plume

Welllllllllll!!! I’ve had a few notes recently from a handful of ladies asking me to do a short video of myself working in the studio. Today I set the Flip down on Fat Baby (my press), put on some Dierks Bentley and recorded myself working for the length of the song. It’s totally weird — at least it is to me. I don’t know how I put anything together correctly when I’m bopping around like this…and at one point RW walks in, squeezes my bottom and smooches me (or did I smooch him….???) (we’re kind of like a crazy pair of teenagers). Either way, you get a good look at 4 minutes of my day while I was in the studio this afternoon!

xx
PS Have I told you lately how much I love the mandolin. And the banjo. And…and…and…Dierks?

PSS I was making this:

Filed Under: studio, Video Blog

Hey Hey Here’s A Letter Mister Postman

October 27, 2010 by The Noisy Plume

I’ve a new postcard pack in the shop today!

This pack includes the following images:

White Horse and the Bees

Patriot

Handful of Lilac

Iris Throat

As usual, I’ll be including a bonus card in each pack!

Happy posting!

Plume

Filed Under: postcards

Artichoke Heart Ring

October 27, 2010 by The Noisy Plume

[sterling, pearl & chalcedony]

A new Artichoke Heart.

Filed Under: New Jewelry

First Snow

October 26, 2010 by The Noisy Plume

I was up at 9000 feet this afternoon with RW, crunching through the first snow of the season. Right after RW snapped this image the wind blew me over.

Of course, I was crawling through the brush oohing and ahhing over the crystalline deposits of snow and ice on the grasses and wild flower stems (RW is a very patient man):

You know I’m going to recreate these minute pools of ice in a jewelry design. Nothing can compare to the perfection of creation but darn it, I’m going to try. I’ve been day dreaming and sketching since seeing these beautiful samples of winter up close. They nearly stopped my heart in my chest.

The best details of the day:

A chipmunk transporting cache across the Mink Creek road — cheeks expanded four times their regular size, tail ramrod straight as it galloped across the pavement.

Wet leaves playing leapfrog on the sidewalk in front of the house.

That first creamy sip of my latte while I sat in a coffee shop this morning answering emails.

Penelope’s wee bottom bouncing through the snow on top of Scout Mountain.

That perfectly beautiful rose that rises up in my cheeks when I’ve been out in the cold and wind.

The heat pouring off my firebox out in the studio. The closer I sit, the cozier things feel. AND the view from my studio window — Kinport Peak has a light dusting of snow. I can’t wait until my view from the bench is positively polar looking.

Autumn feels good on this soul, even if my fingers are cold.

Happy Monday to you all!

Life is so good.

Plume

Post Script:
I do feel compelled to inform you of my current obsession
with Selkies.

Filed Under: high elevation, idaho, pocatello

Then came the stormy days of autumn.

October 24, 2010 by The Noisy Plume

Winter comes. I too will build my bed of silk.

I too will love the sun when she rises and miss her when she sets.

These veined, rumpled, multi hued vessels of spentness — newly released from the fingertips of trees — are so delicate and so content to catch the rain instead of the wind.

When I’m old and my mind and hands are clumsy, I hope to be just as full of grace.

All of Nature’s confetti seems resigned to the fates dictated by the seasons; gathered up in a finale of colorful clouds in the tree tops, fistfuls there on the forest floors and clustered in the spring-fed mountain water as it flows. That confetti has spun around, crackling and clanging its overripe, organic rhythms (those mourning songs for the decay and death of chloroplasts) for a short spell. The light has grown too dim to capture. Wary of the hard frosts, it modulated a cyclical song in minor keys, turning teary variations over and over in the thickness of the wind, before the cold began to creep down from the mountaintops. And now everything is settling, yellow, orange and red carpets the floors here, waiting for blankets of white, waiting for the lacy whispers of solid state, the hard winds of dagger and ice from the North and the sleep of the slumber months. I purse my lips and carefully blow my breath in a column towards a heavy grey sky; my eyes can see the white. The white, it comes.

Roots sink deeper, closer to the warmth of the core of Earth and we all hold on, just a bit tighter, as we spin and make our way around the sun.

Filed Under: autumn, idaho, seasons