a few more Haystack pix...

stacking rocks

is a good way to begin the day

with a quiet mind

everything has a point of balance

finding it is the tricky thing

the kitchen cat

meditating on the meaning

of everything

the rich colours

from cold-processed elderberry

an exquisite piece of dyed paper

[the student responsible smiled rather a lot]

smoke gets in your eyes

when i boil cauldrons
over twigs and sticks
people inevitably ask about carbon
my response is that the twigs and sticks
will produce the same amount of carbon-based gas
whether they rot in the woods
or are consumed by flames

in the former case the gas will [i think]
be methane
in the latter
carbon dioxide
[chemists finding flaws while reading this page are invited to correct me]

on balance
probably better than using
coal-sourced electricity...

Haystack

Haystack is an extraordinary place

you have to make a pilgrimage to get there

the gaff-rigged ship of dreams sails by

from time to time

the fibre studio is a delight

we boiled our cauldrons by the sea

using tannin-rich water from a nearby brook

diving into the sea at the end of the day

water so cold it felt like fire

dog willing and with a fair wind [or, leaving lovely Long Ridge Farm]

the trouble with wandering the whirled to work

is that sometimes

places are hard to leave

today another bittersweet farewell

on this trip

now, where did i leave those ruby slippers...

stoned

the stones in New Hampshire

have special qualities

including

a good sense of balance

as a bonus

they seem to have a beneficial effect 

in the dyebath

in dog we trust

Luna has been bringing sticks

to add to the morning bundle collection

the samples are delightful

[and fragrant] 

a field harvest from an early morning walk

golden rod and St John's wort

and it's the first time

i've seen someone bundle waterlilies...

we are working in an idyllic spot

and it will be very hard to leave

fortunately

my kindly hosts, Nancy and Jack Zeller

think they might let me come back

[please swing over to Nancy's pages and drop her a line

if you think you might be interested in

wandering these beautiful woods with us]

dog bless us all

under the benevolent gaze of our furred supervisors

we coax the soft colours of the early Fall

into our cloth

since the summer solstice, the trees of the woods

have been doing their housekeeping

sorting the trash as it were

preparing for the glorious leaf-shed that 

is yet to come

for us it means golds and browns in our bundles

less green

[that's more a colour of May and June - bearing in mind we're talking northspeak here]

by four in the afternoon

folks are feeling the call of the teapot

[or for some, a splash of something stronger]

i wander down the meandering gravel road

bordered by stone fences

blessed by the occasional falling maple leaf

and stand for a while in the gentle rain

[unstrained, like the quality of mercy]

gazing at a still pool

in which small brown fish are nibbling their way along the bottom

i remember, years ago

 lying flat on a warm rock

reaching my arm into a cold cold stream

to tickle the belly of a trout

and turn back

it has been a very good day

here's Velma's version 

flung headlong

in preparation for class here at Long Ridge Farm
i wander into the woods
the path a soft depression in the landscape
invites velvet paws



i have the feeling of being watched
not uncomfortable
more the sense of shared space

sitting on a rock i close my eyes
and it's then that the sweet fragrance of the maples
takes me to another time

forty-two years ago
nearly to the day
i first played in woods like these
not so far from here
fondly imagining i could disappear between the trees

the memory tsunami is almost too much
as is the place itself
so beautiful it hurts



later
walking back to the farmhouse
i find a brier* patch
berries sweet and dark
sorry bears
i ate them

and it put me in mind of a favourite story
about someone who'd been born and bred in a brier patch

despite distractions
a few leaves found their ways
into my pockets



* purists may challenge my spelling but this i how i read it first
all those years ago...

proof

a coat went down to the ocean
covering a body that was busy dipping a dress
in the left coast brine
before taking it further east
to play with it some more

the body was accompanied by her favourite photographer
otherwise
the only record of the day
would be in a slide-show for one in her head
or
a few prints on the beach
and
they don't usually last