My Verve Spilleth Over

April 28, 2010 by
It’s true.
My verve spilleth over.
My pensiveness hath evaporatethed. Somewhat.
My pesky displaced ribs are feeling miraculously better after a trip to the chiropractor and hours upon hours of tempering wretched muscles with ice packs yesterday and today. I say, one never realizes how important breathing is until every breath pokes a wonky rib into a lung.

I’ve been enameling and constructing for most of the day.
I plan to work late.
The view from the studio is grand, it’s snowing on the West Bench. Low clouds are threatening to drop down into the valley
and water the herb garden I planted yesterday.

Wait.
It’s eerily calm. The gale force winds have suddenly ceased. Perhaps I’ve slipped into the eye of the storm.
Do you ever imagine your house and the land that surrounds it by a mile square is actually up in the air rotating like a vinyl record? I’m performing this very imagination as I type this. For a second, it gave some sort of pseudo logical reason for the calmness outside.

This is a necklace I finished today. It’s an extension of the Rumors of the Sea Series and features an orange peel fired and repoussed copper disc, prong set, as well as a little pearl. There are plenty of details to share about this necklace and I promise to do so in the Etsy listing, when the time comes! I find it rather captivating. Plus, that Scandinavian blue is one of my favorite colors. What a shock! I know. Most people love green best of all. I’m rabid for pretty paraphernalia in hues of cerulean.

And oh dear goodness gosh.
Let’s talk about this little necklace.
It’s the first in a seed series!
I’ve taken a sterling, repoussed disc and fired it with translucent enamel — it’s supposed to be a seed. The necklace is stylistically a drop choker so hanging down from the seed is a repoussed, anticlastically raised and enameled sterling leaf.

So pretty. So lifelike, in some manners.
So organic.

Both enameled components look practically edible. J’adore this piece. How could I not? The colors are bombastic. I’ve three more necklaces in similar design on deck for completion this week and I’m going to be thrilled to show you the other finished products. It’s rather obvious that I’ve been taking more cues than usual from nature these past few weeks. The things I find beautiful and inspiring have been blowing huge and fragrant puffs of springtime wind into everything I touch, write, sketch and construct.

The possibilities are so endless that I’m often overwhelmed by the creative options in my mind.
I’m sure that many of you can relate.

In other news, I’m on the hunt for a Little Red Riding Hood cape.
Send me thine linketh if you knoweth of one!
I am hoping you all had a most glorious Tuesday!
I’ll bet you’re growing tulips between your toes.
Rah rah springtime!
We love you so!
xx
PLUME
Filed Under: New Jewelry, rumors of the sea, seeds, spring
April 26, 2010 by

The tulips look like grandiose, upside down exclamation marks where they stand bright and beaming;
rooted in the dark dirt.

The rain has stopped.
It’s blue skies all around.

But I’m still feeling the pinch of melancholy.
I think I’ll put on a yellow hat.


Or perhaps a yellow dress…



https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2010/04/26/666/

Filed Under: sad, spring, tulips

Breakfast in my Nook

April 23, 2010 by

I like it when you meet me early in the morning
in my kitchen
at the high farm table that seats eight if you don’t mind snug elbows and shuffling about
when someone hands the butter over.
There’s a thick blur settled in the room when it’s
this early in the morning
despite the quiet drape of new daylight.
We seem to move and blink slowly
under the remaining haze of sleep.


There’s clutter on the table top.
Odds and ends salvaged from the local antique shops.
Breadcrumbs from the night before.
An orchid. White and swooping.
A pile of stones.
A fleck of soul.
Out the window I see snow has fallen in the night and encrusted the tulip tops in cold white diamond casts.


Pearson and the wind in the wheat.
Abstract expressionists.
An inky black pen.
Goals rising.
Resolve firm.
Lena Rivers.
A plate.
A cup.
Coffee.
Juice.
Sourdough with plum preserves.
Letters from people I’ve never met but know with all my soul.
A letter from you to set the world in motion once again and make everything right.
Everything is going to be right.
Everything is going to be alright.

There’s jam on my fingertips now.
It’s a sticky situation.
My feet are cold.
But the kitchen is so warm.
So warm.

Filed Under: prosaic poetry and breakfast in my nookery

The Other Two

April 23, 2010 by



A jackrabbit.



And some Indian Paintbrush.


And they both wear so musically, so beautifully, so minimally, so majestically, so bright and shining and luminous and lustrous and silken-cord-with-bright-red-coral and velvety and smudge of gold and pinpricks of light nearly shooting through sterling and jingle and jangle and resonating like violins or cellos with womanly curves….night sky under yellow moon and the quiver of wind on water and new unfurling leaves and a locket with a secret worn close to the heart and a window with a view and an old fence hammered together with a few pieces of lumber and some crooked nails and the thump of a rabbit foot and the flaming red of the paintbrush and the low, wet smell of sage in the rain and the coming solo summer and her green grass and quiet nights and the rose garden and the grass at my knees and the coyote on the ridge and those lonesome drops of dew settling at the corners of my heart and the rising sun and those mellow moods and warm rock and wildflowers and everything in between.
And everything in between.

Often times, I want to whisk you up into what these pieces mean to me, fold my wings and slip my feet down onto the solid ground and whirl you around the countryside of my heart and soul like a
tender tornado so you can see what the hills look like
from where I stand and feel. So you can fully know what was poured into these small vessels. So you’ll always know exactly what I’ve given you to carry.

Things would be heavy if you weren’t sharing in the load.
Sweet dreams,
PLUME

:::Post Script:::
I really do tremendously adore
having an imperfect little 102 year old house
that creaks and groans in the evening hours.
This weekend I think I’m going to convince RW
to paint the bedroom avec moi. Finally. I’ve
selected what I think will be a lovely hue to wake
up to: hawthorne yellow.
It’s cheery but not overbearing and best of all
I imagine it will look beautiful against
our crisp white moldings and the blue grey of the
living room. It’s funny to think I’ve lived with mustard
yellow sponge painted bedroom walls for nearly two years. I suppose the spaces we congregate in with friends and family seemed more important during the renovation process…let me know, what’s the last thing you painted and did the end result make you happy?

::The Other Post Script::
1. Long blond hair.
2. Stronger eyebrows.
3. Those lemon squares.
4. Light blue lace.
5. I need to go to sleep but I’m so impatient for tomorrow to arrive I don’t want to go to bed.
Filed Under: indian paintbrush, jackrabbit, necklaces, new jewlery

It’s a good thing I don’t live in Seattle.

April 22, 2010 by
When life turns rainy, I can’t resist the urge to get in my nest and wait for the sun to come out.
Today.
It.
Has.
Rained.
All.
Day.
Long.

I tried to work; I tried to put fire to metal out in the studio. My eyes kept lifting up from the work of my hands to watch grey clouds spill down the side of the West Bench. The world was perfumed with wet sage, wet dogs, the sexy honey scent of daffodils, saturated dirt and lightning bolts.

Do you think an earthworm can sense the coming rains? Do they begin to make their way out of their tunnels into the air? Do they know to save themselves before their burrows become watery traps? I often wonder. Is anyone out there an annelid specialist?

After a while, I shut the studio down, wandered inside for a cup of hot lemon honey and sat down with a book in the brightest room in the house. I planned to bake lemon squares* but tied shoes on my feet and took Farley out into the rain for a chilly run across town instead.

The mountains are still shrouded in a wet cloak of white as far as I can see and I’m sure the rain is falling as snow in all the high places. The weather makes me sad; the world is crying and I can’t help but be affected by it.

I’m feeling dramatic.
Tonight I might put on a silk nightgown and red lipstick and drag my typewriter up onto my white, metal bed frame. I’ll put the Goldberg Variations on the record player. I’ll sit there and write prissy, narcissistic poems while smoking slender cigarettes until the dawn comes. Then I might fill a bathtub with warm vermouth and sit there reading Sylvia Plath journals until my bath waters evaporate.

Now I’m just getting weird.
But don’t you ever want to live out a black and white movie
when it’s raining outside?
It’s a good thing I don’t live in Seattle, I’d never get anything done.

*about those lemon squares
i plan on sharing the recipe
with you but i’m not sure
what i put in the sweet
little fellows last time i
made the darn things. next
time i bake them i plan on
recording everything i do
to the crust and batter
and then i shall share the
details avec toi.
d’accord?
Filed Under: i'm making myself swoon, oh the drama, someone catch me
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