COLD FRONT
I sit alone by windows gazing out
To see the snow that covers over all.
Will spring be coming soon I want to shout
And bring pink blossoms to the highest wall?
The black-browed chickadees’ so lightly hop.
The towhees’ call; the sparrows smoothly sweep
To always eat sunflower seeds on top.
Birds hate the snowy days, oh I could weep,
A February wind blows deepest chill.
The cloud-filled skies soon bring the sleeting rain.
It slows the mind inside; destroys the will.
When warmth returns does grieving still remain?
Will youth revive with brilliant sunshine’s ray
And raging storms of age be held at bay?
Marillyn B. Johnson
February 2008
Winter of the blue snow
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
all you need is POT(s)
Tea bowl
Proud foot ( FEET!)
Noodle bowl
A vahze--a vase! A vahze.
I'm a mad bowl woman!
It's rather amazing this blending of earth and water with a human element to create a vessel that may not turn out once you subject it to the firey furnace!
Such a gamble...
You have to "quiet your soul" as Mom says. You're bending---laboring over the clay. Centering yourself and the muddy lump spinning infront of you.
Potters will sometimes tell you that they don't shape the clay--but that the clay tells them what to do. Sometimes it's a vase, other times it's a closed form raku, and still other times, it pinches, gets nasty air bubbles and laughs at what you thought you could make it do.
However, there are moments--after the pounding, and the wedging table---after the muscles in your arms are aching from the work--when you center in just moments, and open in a swift, fluid motion--when the clay is ready to move, and you are sitting in awe--trying not to break the spell.
Those moments are so precious.
Proud foot ( FEET!)
Noodle bowl
A vahze--a vase! A vahze.
I'm a mad bowl woman!
It's rather amazing this blending of earth and water with a human element to create a vessel that may not turn out once you subject it to the firey furnace!
Such a gamble...
You have to "quiet your soul" as Mom says. You're bending---laboring over the clay. Centering yourself and the muddy lump spinning infront of you.
Potters will sometimes tell you that they don't shape the clay--but that the clay tells them what to do. Sometimes it's a vase, other times it's a closed form raku, and still other times, it pinches, gets nasty air bubbles and laughs at what you thought you could make it do.
However, there are moments--after the pounding, and the wedging table---after the muscles in your arms are aching from the work--when you center in just moments, and open in a swift, fluid motion--when the clay is ready to move, and you are sitting in awe--trying not to break the spell.
Those moments are so precious.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Rexburg Temple
These last two aren't mine---but the rest are. It was such a blessing to see this marvelous structure rise up every day, right outside my door--Literally across the street!
President Monson was funny and sweet, and prophetic. Elder Eyring wanted to come, but he broke his ankle! Sister Faust quietly slipped to the other side that morning...the Temple was wrapped in a thick blanket of fog that lifted as soon as the 1st session was over. The sun came out for the first time in weeks!
It was wonderful.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Once on this island...and sunday self portrait...
One small girl
In the way
Constantly hungry
Learning too quick
One small girl
Hard at play
She makes me smile
She scares me sick!
*
And they scolded and teased
And held her
And mended the clothes she tore
And the hut was crowded
And food was scarce
And somehow, their lives held more
One small girl
To live for.
One small girl
Not so small
Lost in those daydreams
Day after day
Her ears
Don't hear
She's far away
And I know that
She's getting older
I know that it's
Meant to be
And my arms
Can't hold her
And keep her small
But all that my
Heart can see...
Is one small girl
In a tree...
Saturday, February 02, 2008
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