I’ve been coming and going so much these past three months it has been impossible to really sink into any fresh ideas in the studio. I’ve found it best to simply embrace some small scale production work. It’s so much fun! It’s straightforward. I sit down and I make a batch of one thing. I make as much of it as I can until I am ready to make a batch of a different design — I go into beast mode. These are rings and necklaces and earrings that I cannot seem to make enough of. I fall into an easy rhythm. I’m past the point of persnickety calculations and problem solving. I simply make. I make, over and over again and the making is a meditation. My mind wanders towards the light. I talk to myself, the dogs, the cat. I miss him. I think about my impending late evening run in the grasshoppers and gold. I think about swimming in the river, feeling the smooth green run over my pulse points to cool me, vein by vein.
I’ll probably carry these designs into the fall and probably into part of the winter, too. And gladly. I love them.
Idaho is beginning to burn. The sky above the Snake River is heavy with smoke today. I watched it drift in and turn the sunset deep orange last night while I was running the dogs. I begin to worry for him this time of year. Just a little. I fret. Just a little.
I finally acquired a very grown-up thing — it’s called a coffee bean grinder. I like it. I grind my cute little coffee beans in the morning, make a squatty little French press, add my milk and enjoy the heck out of that cup of coffee. The sun rises over the canyon wall in a terribly beautiful haze, the river swirls, the herons (the herons)…
Tater has been starting his day by rolling in some heinous carcass somewhere so once he comes home after his death-bath I drag him outside and shampoo him with dish soap because nothing else will strip the stink of decay from his fur. He’s disgusting. But I love that about him. He’s so much more macho-wolf-y than the other dogs.
We bought a farm in June. We closed on it in mid-July and the people we bought it from are so great. There was no penny pinching niggling negotiation. There was only straightforward neighborliness. One day we were standing in their kitchen with them celebrating the official sale and purchase of the place and they simply said, “Hey, do you guys want the washer, dryer and fridge? We don’t need them.”
We will move in sometime in October after all this fire season madness. I’ll be able to sneak in, by the end of August, and begin painting and gleaning furniture. Our bed is in the Airstream in McCall so I have, quite literally, been sleeping on a Thermarest since May. I’m over it. I’m really over it right now because it has a hole in it and I cannot seem to find the time to patch it. It’s ok. There are worse things. I just pretend I am always sleeping out under the stars with a stone for a pillow and the huge loft window kind of makes that a not-pretend thing anyway. That said, I look very forward to having a bed and sheets and blankets again.
I read until I cannot keep my eyes open at night. It seems a good way to fall asleep. This summer, I have liked: