The cordwood house- 2006-2013

soak it up

December 7, 2012

I’m home, sick today. It’s a full-stop ‘flu, and I’m bundled in triple layers of clothing – including my dad’s old navy turtleneck & the big red sweater my mom knit for me in 1982.  I am on my third bowl of the excellent chicken soup made for me by incredible friend and husband Grant, […]

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White.

November 27, 2012

Our covenant with Winter:  that there will be space and time to contemplate, to examine and re-examine,  to be still.  In the rich pianissimo of deep snow, quiet things sing their subtlety, small things hold great significance, and you can see the wind. I cannot imagine a life without this. I awake with the phone […]

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Sunday Morning

November 25, 2012

While Barak Obama was aging rapidly in the effort to deflect the great toxic nastiness of the 2012 US election and (hopefully!) emerge as President with some vestiges of grace, I was building, making, taking apart and putting together, writing and re-writing new art equations in my studio. Through Hurricane Sandy and my dad’s 80th […]

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The day before Sandy

November 16, 2012

The wind is powerful today, even here. Sudden southeasterlies are brutal and mean, knifing through whatever pitiful layers of outerwear I have:  Go in – NOW.  Find warmth.  Survive.  My God.  If it’s like this here, it must be utter chaos over the northeastern United States. The sky’s heavy with blue-gray clouds pushed relentlessly backwards […]

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Friday morning

October 19, 2012

There is an ‘absence of me-ness’ in this morning.  What a relief.  Maybe thanks to A.A. Milne: “What day is it?”, asked Pooh. “It’s today”, squeaked Piglet. “My favourite day”, said Pooh. I’ve just cleared off and wiped the table where I sit, so the soft light coming through the south windows in front of […]

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in the dark of the moon

October 16, 2012

The clouds are pale indigo-violet, then a blustery bruised grey shot through with long warm lines of golden sunlight  and rich blue – this sets the red reds and the yellow yellows and the living greens in brilliant, stop-in-your-tracks collaboration.  I feel as though I’m watching the gods at play in a game where they […]

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From Kemble Mountain Forest to you

September 28, 2012

Happy Friday all.  Big full moon tomorrow – I plan to hang on firmly to my sense of the ridiculous, & keep it light & good. In the meantime, wherever you are, I hope you can get outside and roll around in Autumn. Glorious.

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Hackers, passwords and hooks

September 25, 2012

I woke this morning at 5am with the thought that I was carrying around way more stuff than was actually mine to carry. At this point the image of a lake trout with three sea lamprey attached to it appeared in my mind at this point – I’ve looked for an image like it to […]

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Ball joints, Rotary & Equinox

September 24, 2012

There’s a loose ball joint on the car’s right front wheel.  So get it fixed asap; meanwhile go slowly over bumps.  Somehow I have a feeling this has broader application than just the car. My 16-year-old kid has been chosen as the lead Owen Sound candidate for a Rotary International Youth Exchange (11 months long) […]

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Red?

September 19, 2012

A black squirrel just yelled at me for 3 straight minutes while hanging upside-down on the trunk of a downtown spruce tree. Was that because I was reading a book about Jungian psychology while sitting in a red car and wearing a red sweater?  It can’t have been for no reason whatsoever, so it must […]

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Starlings & sweater mornings

September 13, 2012

Our house sits on bedrock beside a small old quarry.  We and the quarry are surrounded by big old trees and growing young trees,  so summer mornings are full of birdsong echoing off the high ceilings through open windows.  It can be cacophonous – I often feel like I’m working in a jungle tree-house up […]

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Creative balance.

September 12, 2012

I’ve been writing a grant application, due Oct 17, drawing sigils for prayer flags that will be cut out of lino, practising Faure & Brahms, blocking in drawings in paintings, printing Rotary Choices, concert tickets, posters, reading Suzuki pedagogy and I’m stuffed full. So now I can release myself into the great river of domesticity: […]

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