Lizards in the Leaves

Rustlings in the green....imagination, art, whimsy

Jul 31, 2012


This morning.
Going through a long-neglected bamboo box crammed with little boxes, small jars, odd jewelry, crystals, beads, stones, tiny toys, charms, buttons, dust, old rose petals.

Suddenly  I'm confronted with Patrick's newborn i.d. bracelet.
(Still just "boy" to them, but we called him Patrick from his first breath.)

And baby teeth. Oh. And it's his half-birthday.

Angels of Grief and Loss bend toward my bowed head and whisper that my tears are sacred.
And will never run out.

This day shifts its energy. Something different blooms.


Jul 21, 2012

Small Spirit Weavings

Here are the weavings I've been doing on my Pocket Loom
I have been calling them Spirit Weavings.

These three have twig hangers that I sanded and polished with beeswax wood polish. I didn't strip off the bark, just sanded it to smoothness.

These twigs become part of the weavings.   Each is unique and beautiful.

Working on them gives me a great deal of pleasure. It's a sensory delight with the smoothing of the wood, the scent of the beeswax.. A soul delight, as I feel connection with trees, making things with these bits of them I find on the ground, working them into my art.

The Twig Factory:

 I've been using Beeautiful Beeswax Polish that I ordered from Nova Natural. It smells divine!

The bottom twig is au naturale, the top ones after my ministrations. I think these are tulip poplar twigs. They have a grey bark and  interesting little knobby protrusions and what my granddaughter described as "folds." When  they are finished, they have the loveliest warm brown color.


Jul 17, 2012

Pocket Loom

When I went to Asheville, I was thrilled beyond reason to see Earth Guild's bricks and mortar shop right in front of me. I ordered from them a lot before eBay and before we got a yarn shop here in town. They have a special place in the biography of my stash.

I absolutely had to buy something from them in person and was suddenly overtaken by a desire to get a drop spindle and some fiber, which I found and then I discovered, tucked away on a shelf all by itself this small loom called a Pocket Loom. 

Now, I have several small looms. Ahem, that is if several can mean a dozen... With the exception of my triangle looms and the squares that go with them, I rarely use them and often don't finish what I start on them.

But this loom just completely called to me, so I bought it. 

And I'm so glad I answered its call.

I began working with it right away when I returned to my sister's house in Sylva. I got up early before anyone else and began to weave in her beautiful sunporch. In Asheville, I'd bought a cotton yarn for warp. I had packed little as far as fiber supplies, but I did bring a quart-sized Ziploc with a bunch of tiny leftovers, thinking I might make a few freeform scrumbles. Perfect for use with the Pocket Loom.

As I wove, I felt that I wanted to make this first weaving as an offering to the space, to mountains, to her land that was so peaceful and welcoming.

So this is going to hang like a prayer flag, in the memorial arbor she's creating. The twig came from Timberlake.  Blessed be!

I immediately started a second weaving.

For the first one, I  used one warp  end per slot. For this second one, I wound the warp with two ends per slot.
 I worked on this by Conley Creek at Timberlake Campground while talking with my brother.  It's full of the spirit of that special place and the joy I had of being with family on the trip.

And now it hangs on my front door...

 Blessed be!

(Oh, and the loom is made by Good Wood Looms and you can find them here.  They are beautifully made and a pleasure to work on. Even though it says the pages haven't been updated since 2007, they are still making and selling these looms and more. I wrote them to make sure.)


Jul 14, 2012

Trip to North Carolina

 Conley Creek, at Timberlake Campground, Whittier, NC

Since I last wrote, I've traveled a bit, to Western North Carolina and the lovely Great Smoky Mountains. We spent many summer vacations there, camping, when I was a child and to think of them calls up a sense of mystery and magic that makes me feel both reverence and joy.  So it was wonderful to see them again after 37 years and the acquisition of a panic disorder and a set of phobias that have prevented me from traveling much at all.

The travel phobia thing is complicated and has a lot to do with driving and speed and mostly to do with the way other drivers behave on the road. Agoraphobia, and the panic attacks attached to it, are other issues, ones which I've worked with in a holistic way over the last decade, and which have moved to the periphery of my life.  A far periphery - for which I am deeply grateful.

I did not intend to start this blog entry with writing about phobias and panic disorder...but I'm leaving it because I know that what I've suffered is not unusual and that if I share my experience it helps both me and others who may be dealing with the same challenges. In the future, perhaps I will write more about the things that have proved useful in my own healing.

I'm still processing the trip and my experiences. It was a lovely gathering of family - all my living children, my granddaughter traveled there and met up with my sister & her children and grandchild, and my brother, all of whom live there.  And I spent two days in Asheville with one of my oldest friends from Miami, Julie, who lives there now.

And the place itself was like an old friend. Daughter Molly and I stayed with my sister on her beautiful, remote mountain. It was wonderful to see the lovely home she's created,  feel the special energy of healing and peace and Nature there. My sons and granddaughter camped at Timberlake Campground, another very special place for my family.

Owned by a high school chum of my mother's, Timberlake was the place we went year after year from its opening in 1966 on. Upon my dad's retirement, my parents spent months there, longer and longer each year.  And it's where my father died.  His ashes were sent to drift in Conley Creek. And 22 years later, my mother's went into the flowing water.  I got to finally see the memorial signs for them.

This one sits by the tree where my father sat writing (his novel...lost in the flood of the storage unit here in 2008) and working his crossword puzzles.

And these are by the creek:

Well. This was a very different post than the weaving post I intended to write!  And this seems like a good place to stop writing today.  Hopefully, it won't be another month before I tell all about my new loom!!!