A Belated Introduction: Idaho’s Cotton

I have been remiss! In May, we brought home one more horse though truth be told, she’s more of a mythical beast than she is a proper horse. She came from our friend Gale, just up the road from our farm, which is also where Hawk originated from. She goes by the name Cotton. When we hauled her home she was exactly one year old and a little rude. Over the past six months she’s learned her place in our horse herd here (she’s at the bottom of the totem pole, naturally) and our other three horses have taught her some good social lessons which is the job of a herd.

We’ve put hours of ground work into her so far and she’s turned out to be so sweet and sensitive and calm. She already moves great off of light pressure, respects our personal space, has realized she cannot bite or kick or push human beings around, and she responds to our body language, as well. We think she’s going to be a great mare and she’s been fun to start.

She’s a Tenessee Walking Horse, like Hawk, and she’s pretty strapping. She’ll be a big, sturdy gal and should top out around 16’2 hands. Her color is called cremello and she has striking pale blue eyes, light fleabites on her face, belly and rump, a white blaze on her face, and darker roots at the base of her mane and tail. She’s hard to keep clean but she sure is a shiny little magical thing!

She’s a horse a Cree medicine man would ride through tall grass prairie beneath a full moon. She was meant for a mystic which is what I am…occasionally…I suppose.

Four horses is the sweet spot for us, we have two to ride now and two to pack for our backcountry adventures. Though it occurs to me as I write this that we’re going to need one more riding horse eventually! Finding a saddle horse for our mini is going to be too much fun.

Pilgrim Necklace

I wanted to say a few words about this necklace before I release it this afternoon. It’s a design that was born from experience and intention. I walked the primitive section of the Camino de Santiago across Asturia and Galicia Spain over the span of a few weeks this past summer and it was a wonderful time.

A friend recently asked me what the pilgrimage was like and while I’m still reflecting on the experience and working on a longer form written piece for you, I briefly shared with her:

“What I enjoyed about the journey was the quiet, ancient feel of it — like God built the way with careful hands, weaving into the path thirst, hunger, quenching, satiation, sunshine, heat, shade, cold springs, steep climbs and descents, shabby meals and decadent feasts, water and wine…and I was grateful for it all and my heart found rest.”

I loved thinking about the pilgrims who had walked the way ahead of me and what might have been common between us. It was such a lovely journey and my only regret is that I was not able to linger longer in places that tugged on my spirit.

While descending from the highest pass on the primitive section of the Camino I saw a yucca patch and picked a handful of seed pods to carry along the trail and eventually home to Idaho. In this necklace design they represent the deep relationship we are intended to have with natural rhythms and nature — I don’t believe we are separate from nature, I believe we are part of it, and much of the chaos we see in the world today is due, in part, because of the separation, the divorce many of us suffer from what is natural and good and true. This yucca pod I gleaned from the Camino was taken from the highest place on the trail where the view was vast and the air was clean and the sun was hot. I’ve suspended it from ten square crosses in an attempt to create a sort of…rosary. Each square cross is a tangible object you can assign a thought, a worry, a prayer, a person to. They are intended to focus your mind when it needs focusing — to help you go deeper into thought and devotion and prayer.

Whether you are a praying person or not, I intended this piece to be imbued with some of the peace and joy I found on the Camino de Santiago this past summer as I walked, day after day, step after step, across Northern Spain on the ancient Catholic pilgrimage that has led so many people home to love, healing, faith and a sense of belonging to nature.

Buen Camino. Dios te guarde.

Love,

Jillian

I had so much fun making these lovely things. I’m in computer mode here which is entirely exhausting but I can’t wait to complete this shop update tomorrow afternoon and get right back to work in my studio. These pieces and a few others will be available tomorrow at 3PM MST. Thank you kindly for your interest!

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2022/11/03/16640/

Howdy! I’m stocking my shop shelves with new work on
November 4th @ 3PM MST. I hoped to have more pieces ready for you but we’ve had countless life interruptions here over the past few weeks and because of those interruptions I’ve been struggling to complete some of the projects I have going on my studio benches. My apologies. The other designs I’m working on will be finished in due time and will be available at the end of the month.

Please note: I will be downshifting my studio productivity towards the end of November as I’m starting to be quite pregnant with a wee critter that is due at the end of December. I’m feeling great and am so thankful for all the ways you have supported me as an artist, supported my little family, and supported our little farm over the past year. You’re amazing and we’re grateful we get to share this beautiful world with you.

See you at the shop on the 4th!

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2022/11/01/16631/

Heart of October

I was out wandering last night and I found myself thinking about the seasons and how beautiful October is, draped and drenched in endless gold and yellow. The steppe holds a gentle warmth, an openhanded kindness as the nights grow longer and darker and colder. Each afternoon shines down like a gift on my bare arms and uncovered face. Summer has passed and I do not miss it, I am ready for the season I am in. I am attentive and shifting gears.

I find I’m always ready for the change of seasons. I wondered about that for a while as I walked through the sagebrush last night. I often hear people say they have one season they prefer most and I genuinely don’t prefer one over the others. I adore all four seasons for exactly what they are and what they bring to my life. Some folks hate to be hot or cold or raked over by gale force winds or given the task of shoveling the driveway or warming up or cooling down the car — I accept and even anticipate the duties that come with the seasons. I wonder if there’s a season we don’t enjoy it’s because we have removed ourselves from the rhythm of it? I think the closer we live in league with what the seasons offer us, even the discomforts they provide, the greater our ability to appreciate and even love the uniqueness of each season.

When the garden freezes and the garlic is planted, we rejoice! We’re ready for fall. When fall grows cold and dark and the days brim with inhospitable winds, we are ready for the quietude of winter and rest — we are mammals, after all. When the snow and ice melt and spring comes sneaking fuzzy-green across the steppe, I am eager to hear the first meadowlark. When the heat of summer arrives, my skin drinks the sun thirstily and I grow sleek on garden forage.

I don’t want an endless summer. My body is not equipped to entertain such a novelty, it goes against my ancestry. I want the seasons and all they bring to bear — the rhythms and structure and work and good health and beauty. Most of all, I want the liturgy each season speaks over my cells, my DNA, my soul.

The benediction, no matter the season: Go forth in peace and joy. Work hard and be human.

Amen.

October is half spent but endlessly golden. I’m here, now, living beneath the sunrises and sunsets, embracing the changes, chopping wood and carrying water.