Ode

In a glass.

In a leaf.



We'd die without it.





Cloud.







Rain.






Snow. Ice.

River.

Vapor.

Lake.

Ocean.

Groundwater.
Aquifer.
Water table.

It's free.

It's priceless.

(No plastic water bottles please.)

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the cold rush

There I was on top of the world in 1975, age 18-almost-19, hiking a path from Lauterbrunnen to Wengen, Switzerland, with pigs. I had never heard of global warming, although the melt at the Arctic had been happening since the 1950s. The Alps don't even look like this any more. (Well, neither do I, but that's another topic.)

Pardon me for huffing here instead of at my huffing blog, but while some of Nature is beautiful and warm and loving, humanity included, some of it isn't, and I don't want to ignore that here.

Have you heard that at least five countries are vying for territorial rights at the Arctic? The United States, Canada, Russia, Norway and Denmark (I vote for Denmark, since they're trying to convert to 50% renewable-energy-dependent in the next couple of decades) are arguing about who "owns" the land, tundra, seaways. Ultimately the political import is about the shipping routes and oil under the sea that is becoming more accessible due to ice melt, and who will have rights to harvest and control what could be as much as 25% of the world's remaining fossil fuels, according to this article in Vanity Fair by Alex Shoumatoff. In fact, the Russians sent two Mirs down below to gather geologic samples, and while there they planted a titanium flag (anything less than titanium or something that strong would be compressed under the pressure). And it's not just those five countries. China, Japan, India and others are in place to be part of the highly political regional footholds. Russia is claiming it has sovereignty over some, if not most, of it - nice thought, considering they turned off the gas faucet once to Ukraine.

Okay, so the Arctic ice has been melting at a rate of 10% every decade since the 1950s, which is why it is suddenly a topic of oil drilling: it's accessible because of the melt. And what caused the melt? Well, um, yeah, global warming, caused by burning fossil fuels. What a poetically devastating cycle we humans generate.

It seems that life is replete with the difficult tension of a) wanting things to get better, wishing everyone would wake up and b) knowing in my heart of hearts it probably won't happen in most cases, until absolute desperation and necessity demand it.

Do I believe our powerful countries will turn to alternative eco-friendly sustainable fuel sources rather than turn to what's left of the earth's oil? As long as there is oil, it's not running out, right? And Americans with gas prices above $4/gallon, and Brits with twice that price, are clamoring for their governments to do something about it. So should they drill that precious oil, buy a few more decades of oil dependency? Make their penny-pinched citizens happier?

As "we" embark on this new frontier of exploration, expedition and exploitation, I am sitting here with a stupid, gullible look of disbelief on my face, disappointed that nothing has changed, artificial borders on Mother Earth continue to be drawn, and we suck out her life as if we are entitled, with no respect or acknowledgement for how we were born from Her, will dissolve into her, making us one with her and each other.

I guess we can hope that some Russian scientists are right, that global warming is almost over, that it's getting colder up there again, and that thickening ice will prevent oil drilling.

Or, if that fails, maybe we can fly above the earth like the shamanic Siberian flying reindeer.

Here's another article at The Guardian.

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home from Gotham City

The girl is like her father.

Her hands are alive with many projects, such as this sweater for her friend's new baby, Eden.

She is not like her mother, who stares out windows.

I want to see her shots of Floozie!

She came home to the farm for R & R, but she helped her dad, along with Peter, construct a new room in the chicken coop and put in a veggie garden. She weeded and planted a bed for the morning glories.

She helped her dad give Honey a trim. Poor thing couldn't see! Kept bumping into things. Honey and her sisters could use some head bands like Lesley's.






The daughter did relax too.

When she wakes up we're going to 1. go see "Indiana Jones" with her brother; 2. go to the Secretary of State to replace her drivers license that got stolen with her wallet last week in NYC; 3. come home and have a photo shoot in the studio for some professional head shots, then drive her to the airport!

-

Thank you, sweet girl, for all the help and energy! And thanks to your brother who is more like me but also helped a ton! I loved having you home.

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Sunday morning walk

Before the house is awake,

the birds have been calling
for hours.







The bamboo
had a shower

and waits
for the sun

to dry itself.






























Dandelions' gossamer
feathers
remind me of
Don's Polish hen heads.







The grapes have begun to form on the vine.

Iris heads are
reaching up, out

of their skin.

Pelargonium in a pot,
honeysuckle by the pond
magenta-size the air.

Columbine
dances its

insect dance.

A lady is at

home
in the

Russian Olive.

Lilies of the Valley

ring in white.

And back to the house where Bishop is still asleep.

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fading in

I played the piano
last evening

after a long break.

I suddenly remembered

Peter's Beatles

music books upstairs.

I have rarely played anything but classical or church music, from my mom's books.

We have Lesley's piano, since she has no room for it in her NYC apartment. Maybe because she is coming home for a long Memorial Day weekend I wanted to warm it up.

So before the "American Idol" finale last night I played "Across the Universe." My playing was pretty awful. I'll keep practicing; I'd like to memorize it.

I am happy both our kids are musical, taking after my mom, who was a concert pianist, well she was trained to be, but her "concerts" ended up being the accompaniment for singing at church. (That's her little picture on the piano, below.) She taught me to read music and tried to teach me to play piano, but I was lazy. And there's just something about a mom trying to teach her daughter, a certain resistance exists.

I want to congratulate another musical young woman, Abigail Wirbel, who is graduating from high school. She is Loring's beautiful daughter, and she plays guitar and sings. Loring and I went to high school together until I graduated 34 years ago. (He graduated the following year.) In fact we only lived a couple of blocks from each other. I'm so glad we reconnected in blogworld.

Here's to musical children and parents! Here's to music!

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hands on

I suppose it's partly because of reading the wabi sabi book that an overhauling mood is upon me. My clothes closet got done. I mean completely emptied, sorted, and only what I absolutely want and wear back in. All other piles disposed of properly. Almost.

Following the flow, after looking for that quilt in storage in the barn, I suddenly had 3 tubs and one trunk full of fabric and quilt pieces in the house.

I sorted by color.

What will I do with all this fabric, now that I don't quilt any more? My hands and wrists are weak now, and they ache if I do too much close needle work.

Oh, looking through the folded cotton fabrics took me down Memory Lane.

Dresses, doll clothes and a Wizard-of-Oz Dorothy Halloween costume I made for Lesley.

Old curtains, even some from Istanbul (that small yellow and taupe flowered print in the yellow pile, which was in our kitchen there). I need to tell you the story behind this fabric some day.

Old pieces that were my mom's, like the two doilies on the same pile, which I remember from my childhood.

Silks and linens from Thailand, China and India, brought as gifts to my parents by the foreign students who lived with us when I was in high school.

Even a sari that must have been given to my mom, although I don't recall her ever wearing it. I'd like to get a blouse made for it and wear it myself.

We had many Indian friends, and they were so generous giving gifts to us.

I found this skirt at the bottom of one of the bins, a sorry place for a treasure whose value I can't even begin to understand. I bought the British (Liberty, I think) fabric somewhere, in the States I think. I took it with me to Istanbul and had a tailor make it into a skirt that I wore and wore. As I hold it in my hands now, I think it may be one of the most precious things I possess.

Oh, and look what I found googling "Liberty fabric": J Crew came out with Liberty fabric skirts last year. Styles always come back around, eh? And oh by the way, this is one of those full skirts I was admiring earlier from the Paris show. Won't I just be the cat's meow wearing this vintage skirt (if I can lose about 1 inch from my waist)?

I think I know what I want to do with some of the fabric: braided rugs.

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