created in the path of Irene

We're fine, thank you! We had a very easy hurricane, and I am grateful for it. My heart, and some donations, go out to those who had a harder time, especially those in places that were not expecting anything much, like upstate NY and my friends in Vermont.

There were a lot of people in Irene's path, and many of them were inspired to write about it. Kate Messner invited people to contact her with links to the work they created as Irene went overhead, and she would collect them together. Her page is still being updated, but you should check it out now! You can go again later…

hurricane dreams (another poem)

I'll admit to hurricane dreams last night

the trampoline took flight, the metal frame shrieking
the central black mat like a bat's black wings, held captive in the center
the whole cartwheeling itself into the neighbor's yard before flying away downwind

it looks suspiciously smug, and quite stable this morning
after its adventures in the dark of my mind


hurricane poem


wind rakes the rain in lines 
pointing south and west
the trees thrash but do not break
the streets are coated with water
that hasn't time to drain

and yet, we still sit in lighted and refrigerated splendor
and yet, the wind moans not
and yet, the worst has not arrived


still not home

t'row it over the side


The big entertainment for this morning was throwing the goose and the gull (and later the coot) decoys over the edge of the porch, and hauling them in again. 

the eyeball

Rhode Island Red eyeball

Finished, finally!

I'm on vacation for the next two weeks; first around home, then visiting my brother and his family, including the world's best nephew. I am known as Aunty Gravity. I get to be the bad aunt. This is really much better than it sounds. It means I can feed the boy ice cream before dinner and give him loud musical instruments for presents, and generally spoil him dreadfully. Which is, of course, such wonderful fun because his parents have such a firm grip on him otherwise. Honestly, the world's best boy. Well, except for whichever one you are closest to!

in which I remember all over again how much I love fabric


A set of coordinated brown and tan hand dyes reminded me of how much I love fabric. I am grateful to the people who color it, so that I cna use it to make things from. I like the interaction of weave and color to make this thing that drapes and stretches a little and lives. I have feelings about fabric (affection, wonder, joy) that I don't get with other materials like paper or clay. It might be practice, that gives me a feel for it and then an affection for it. It might have been the other way around, that I liked fabric and worked more with it than other materials, and now I am just busy liking my own mastery. 

Which ever way it goes, or if I am actually stuck in some kind of feedback loop, I love fabric.