Why am I here in Idaho?

It's a very warm and sticky night---no stars out yet here in the desert.

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I try to imagine myself on a sloop bending around the harbor. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the boat and the bubbles from the fish asleep below all tumble into a low roar. I sail up next to the dock and tie her up. She creaks her farewell--and the boom sways in the breeze.

Somewhere up the road is a moonlit garden that grows the tomatoes that I'll squash into our winters' supply.

Inside the canning jars are boiling away on the old stove late into the night. My tired arms are aching from turning the crank. The steam keeps billowing up against the windows making ghostly clouds.

Open the kitchen door and escape into the night--- come with me!

High above the shady oaks. Fly over the osprey nest and over the prickly pines. Find yourself in the cool of the starry sky--hang suspended in that moment--while the sky and the earth do a delicate dance. Dip down into the rushes by the pond. Salutations to the crane standing in the shallows. You can get your feet wet too.

The peepers are singing soprano and the crickets answer with a tenor line. The wind brings percussion from the aspens and the reeds surrounding the bank. The mud surrounds your tired feet with a smelly embrace.

Everything is shades of dark blue.

Run up the road again....brush off your feet on the deck and grab the hose. Drip dry.

Head off to the bathroom to put calamine lotion on your bug bites--careful not to smudge your pink dots you climb the steep stairs.

Time for bed.

Goodnight Maine Moon.

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I had a good talk with mom today. I miss home.

More books

Piano hinge book--where I plan to put my haikus.

Chocolate brown and robins' egg blue

Italian ribbon--dollar a yard--and totally worth it.

Marbled paper.

Letter press run. My first!

Some books on my bed.

My desk currently

Tunnel book--theme: Musee D'Orsay.

Legs, and architecture, and emo letter presses...

This model was elven, I swear.






This is called furniture, I'm not sure why. It makes sure the letters don't move anywhere.



Happy, happy paper drawers. I want a whole wall of paper drawers....*SWOON*



The scary letter press--with a filter.



When I grow up, I can have one of these.

Where I spend my days and nights...

So, I'm taking this book arts class. Our prof is this puttering, ex-seminary teacher, hippy-dippy woman. She's pretty fantastic. We are in the printmaking room, because the Spori building dosen't have enough room for us artsy types. ( blast them all!) My class of 25+ is crammed in to this small space, but it's all worth it when Sister Simpson reminds us that, " Mistakes are what life is all about. And just because my sons aren't married yet, doesn't make me a bad mother." Or " Hey, making books isn't a game of rugby! You have to be gentle, and play badminton."
I'm pretty sure i'd go out of my mind if I didn't have this class. It's just the right amount of silliness and skill.


Paper signatures sewn together with the tricky French stitch. Those tricky Frenchies!


This is a leather trek journal. Tangerine leather is rather lovely! This was also my first time sewing with sinew---um...gross.



The final glowing result.

Art stuff

Here are some pots I did this winter.
Ooooh! Ahhhh!
Move over Joe Bennion! (or at least let me come play in the studio some day?)

Rainy day

So this weather is really putting a damper on my to-do list.

It's funny to read back on what I wrote when I started this thing---way back in two-thousand and *gasp* four!
The same disease has permeated my brain. 42 days, and counting.

Being pulled in two.

I have to go make a book now.

Bye.

SHE LIVES!!!

I've decided to begin again here.
Pictures and lovelyness comming soon.