There I was driving along and I saw three dogwood trees in a row, three different colors. One deep maroon, one lovely pink, and one white with just tiny touches of pink in the centers. So I made that.
The wind shifted last night, and was cooler today, but still terribly dry. All the small creeks I cross out riding are down to stones and a dribble of water, and the marshes are parched. It isn't supposed to be this dry at this time of year; the ground would (usually) still be thawing, and things would be muddy and sticky and the river would be high.
I am ashamed to say that in the flurry of mailing and giving away I managed to give away several circles my mother was hankering for. So I made this one for her specially, and I will mail it tomorrow. I swear!
We've been having absurdly dry, hot weather. The forecast I heard for today said "surprisingly sunny". Well, actually it didn't – it said "mostly sunny" and I must have laid my own surprise over the top of that. Once it rains, or fogs, or anything, you'll see it in the circles. Had you noticed they've all had blue skies so far? Except yesterday, which was cloudy but no rain.
Today I went with my friend Joyce (from the casting class) to Shelburne Falls where we walked through a small number of amzing stores and galleries. There were more, but we ran out of time. joyce knew people everywhere, and we talked with everyone about art and the things they had in their stores, and New England. It was lovely.
I brought my circles, because (as you know) I have to give them away. It is a karma thing. I was describing to Al people's expressions when I offered them small stitched art; first disbelief, then increasing pleasure in the looking, and an almost audible "ding" when they saw one they liked. He said that sounded like how I got paid for them, which sounds about right.
And then once I was home I checked my mail and I've been accepted to Haystack Mountain School of Crafts for a two week session with Marian Bijlenga working with fabric in circles and exploring the Maine coast environment. It feels like an amazing opportunity to push the circle-a-day circles further and maybe in new directions.
Which makes today a very, very nice day.
One of the maple trees on the way to the barn is both blooming in red/brown and either blooming or leafing out in that amazing zingy spring green. I was so astonished I took a picture of it, and there it is.
Aerin takes pleasure in reminding me that it was about this time one year when she was small (and thus had a loose grasp of time) that I startled her by shouting "look! Quick! The trees are blooming, and it goes by so fast!!" and she whirled in her seat hoping to catch a tree in the act of floofing out. Of course it feels fast to me, it takes a week or so, and then everything will be leaves and green, and not this lovely lacey in-between.
Aerin says when she was really small, it was not clear to her that the seasons happened. One day was a lot like the next, and things took a really long time. It was hard to remember when it had been really different.
The grape hyacinths are out in force. They are a wonderful color, and they smell so sweet. It took two colors of thread to get the color I was looking for; one chicory blue (that lovely ambiguous purpley-blue) and one dusty purple.
I brought the camera with me to the barn so my instructor might take take some pictures of me during my lesson, and I am pretty sure it is still in my boot bag, so I wound up taking the picture of today's circle with the camera on the phone. I would have retrieved the camera from the boot bag, except the elder child has the car to see a show in town.
I am thinking I should make my circle before I go to circus class, because when I do circus right, I am sore and tired and all I want is to lie down and sleep. Also when I do a lot of work on the trapeze, as today, my hands are very sore.
Wild weather today: two short fierce hailstorms, brilliant sun, billowy clouds, and a lot of wind. I love the way the willows act as tell-tales in the wind. As it gets stronger, the branches fly farther and farther out, closer to horizontal.
While lying on my back under the dogwood tree I happened to roll over and look out across the lawn. I remember thinking about being tiny and imagining life where grass was a jungle. I also remember wistfully looking at the fungi that grow out in shelves from trees, and thinking they would be perfect places for houses.
One fine thing about spring is lying on my back under a tree. The practice can be cold and miserable until there is enough grass and sunshine to make the ground a pleasant place to be. And today it was warm enough, and dry enough, and sunny enough that lying on the ground was lovely. As were the pink dog wood blossoms.
One of my favorite poems is in Bob and Leonor's house, and I get to read it whenever I go to ride the horses there. I posted it here but today made me think particularly of the second stanza;
And yet here's dogwood: overshadowed, small, But not inclined to droop and count its losses, It cranes its way to sunlight after all, And paints the air of May with Maltese crosses.
Hadley has the nicest town common, marred only by crazy traffic along Route 9. It is wide, and handsosome; bordered with houses of similar gravitas even if they are from different eras. It is also bordered with maple trees, on both sides of both roads that run along it. I was so struck by the march of the maples (doesn't that sound like a nature movie?) along the edge, I had to try to cath them in a circle.