this reminds me of a bird I drew on a paper earring last year. his name was richard. he was a robin, and he sold knives door-to-door. he still does, in fact, according to the fax he recently sent to meriwether lewis, my stuffed hedgehog of an office assistant. “meriwether,” it read, “please inform the others that i am well and staying dry in hampshire. also, the serrateds are selling splendidly.”

sunny winter morning: for caitlin and hiller.

WINTER EMBROIDERY: the letters i had my farm-family write to themselves reflecting on the last year, and the shooting-star time capsule bag which i made for this new tradition. next december 31 i will pass out these letters, and make them write a new one.

(via johnnarock)

wee charlie. april/may 2010.

December Reflections

Rarely ever does one project, idea, challenge, or relationship stand in isolation at Windward, and raising Charlie-pup this past spring and summer was no exception. My reflections on the experience have sent me tracking through the snow in great arcs and intersecting circles, chasing after trains of thought with unknown destinations. This past April I brought Charlie into our family as my personal charge, with the intention of training him to be a sheep-herding dog, but what Charlie turned out to be for me, largely, was an experience in motherhood and a window into the delicately intertwined processes of life, death, and loss.

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real world: the commune.

this is not a great picture of me, but i love how candid it is, and how timeless. what decade is that dress from? the stove? the muffins?

welcome to my first official try at documenting the life that is windward: forest, farm, home.

(oh, technology.)

consider this notes for the book i will write in thirty years, if books still exist in thirty years.

love to you faraway peoples.

september 2010.

setting the picnic table for a tea party.