https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2019/07/27/14710/

Summer on the Farm

I sent out a distress signal and Robert came home for four days to help me get the farm back on line. In that span of time we managed to get the wheel line up and running (which required the rest of the assembly as well as refurbishing an engine), get the set handlines reassembled and watering rotated, weed the entire garden, re-seed the former garlic rows with carrots and beets, rotate the horses in various grazing spaces, wire a few almond trees (the horses like to eat them)….and so on and so forth. I also finished two studio projects, kept up with my packaging and shipping on a daily basis, caught up on all my emails, took two conference calls and met a writing deadline. We did take one evening to ride our horses together but were otherwise ready to fall into bed at 9pm every night. Exhausted.

Because summer isn’t already unfathomably full for me (note sarcasm), I also took on a big commitment this week as editor in chief of the fourth volume of Modern Huntsman which will be an all-women’s issue. I’m excited and scared about the position and am a little worried about how I’m going to fit being an editor into my life over the next 3 months with everything else I have going on but I couldn’t say no to the opportunity! It’s going to be a great learning experience for me and I hope it will help fuel my own writing career which is such a tender little hatchling at this point. Wish me luck!

Lastly, isn’t that just such a gorgeous image of Robbie and Ernest. Ernest is currently weighing in around 35-40 pounds. I can’t believe how fast he is growing. Starting this little guardian dog continues to be such a joy for me this summer and such a marvelous excuse to slow down when life feels out of control.

I’m about to head home to Canada to be with my family for a week. I hate to leave this place when it’s in full bloom and the garden is feeding me so beautifully and my horses and the sunsets…the sunsets…but it’s going to be good to hug my sisters, tease my nephews and hang out with my mum and dad for a stint. I’ll miss you, Sundries Farm, but I’ll be back soon enough.

Late Bloomer

I gave one of these necklaces away on my instagram account last week and it was so warmly received that I’ve made a few more for my shop shelves. I’m working on finishing these little cuties up tonight so you’ll be able to find them in my shop tomorrow.

Spring Creeking

I live on a famous river in the West. It slithers across the entire state of Idaho, past the end of my driveway, twists and turns, drops into the abyss of Hell’s Canyon and eventually flows into the Columbia River before it reaches the ocean. Where I live, there are also thousands of springs. Water burps, drips, seeps, cascades, erupts out of the desert floor and volcanic stone. I’ve always found springs to be magical and mysterious and to find one large enough to fish is the ultimate gift. The water runs cool and clear all year, every year. It is never stagnant. Some springs are so fresh they are void of aquatic life — they’re too pure, too sterile an environment to support aqueous life. To find a freshly birthed spring that holds trout is a treasure. It’s the time of year where a wet wade on a local spring is my favorite way to end the day. It’s refreshing for the body and mind and as the sun leaves the sky the water comes alive with the twilight sounds of bugs and birds. I shut my eyes and listen. I stand knee deep in a wild symphony and I conduct that fully dimensional sound with my rod. Cast. Cast. Cast. And now the nighthawks crooning and the rising scent of wild rose on the breeze and the flip of a small rainbow trout on the edge of a seam. Riffles are percussion. Willows are woodwinds. Geese are the horn section. Mosquitos are piccolos. The spring is the melody and everything sings along.

The Pollinator

It has been a while since I’ve been able to sit down in the studio and work but when I did last week, for the first time sine May 10th, I allowed myself to play a bit and this little sterling pollinator popped out. I don’t know what will become of her, but I’m smitten.