the peaceful peacock

This winter I have acquired a new friend.

Her name is Jasmine Green.

She lives in a teapot, a cup, a jar, sometimes an unbleached filter.

But she’s always nearby.

She brings her friend Honey along too.

We have some good times.

She offers me a handle on the difficult moments.

I often think of her in the middle of the night and can’t wait to see her in the morning.

It must be love.

I take it back about not making any New Year’s Resolutions.  The other day we were out playing under the blueberry sky again and I stumbled across a solution that solved a lot more than my query about how to make the mountains look bigger with my simple camera…

Aim higher.

The winter lasts a long time in Montana.

A looooooong time.

We are currently in the throngs of Winter 2, the post-Christmas lull before the real deep-freeze madness sets in.

This year we have been graced with plenty of still, blue skies and precocious black birds to waken our dreary eyes.  A refreshing preparation for our next season.

Still Winter.

Hang in there, say the black birds. Make new plans for gardens and summertime frills, fix the parts of your insides that ask for attention still.

Thank you for your message, Brother Birds.  You hang in there too.

Before Annabelle was born, I laid out a plan of what I thought I could actually achieve with an infant and a toddler underfoot.

I knew that physically creating would be a challenge (to say the least…) so while she was very, very tiny and liked to sleep all the time, I learned to make my own handspun yarn.  Once the wheel became too exciting for tiny hands to resist, I moved into the next phase of the plan, switched gears and focused on laying out the website of my dreams.  I have been deeply immersed in learning the skills to make this happen–not an easy feat.  It’s just about there though and I’m pretty satisfied with the overall appearance and set-up (like the bare bones of my gallery!  take a look!)

And so comes another shift.

The time has come for me to drag my mothering hormones away from the children (sometimes kicking and screaming–me, not them) and into the studio for a few hours a week to hit the machines.  We have a summer market coming up you know…but don’t say that out loud because I start getting a little frayed around the edges.  The plan was to begin creating inventory in January and I honestly can’t stop myself.  I just walk into my studio, sit down, and automatically start stitching things together.

Slow and steady.  That’s me.

And that’s a tall order for a woman whose mind follows the pace of the speedy little rabbit.

This year I plan to offer a wide selection of handspun yarns, a variety of knitting and crochet accessories (like the hook and needle cases), and a limited collection of handmade clothing of my own design.

Which just might utilize my skills in hand dyeing and/or applique, like this custom skirt in the works:

And due to the unexpected arrival of the girls last fall, you just might see an appearance of some handwoven goods.  Like belts.  Maybe.

So click your heels three times, whisper a spell and it might come true………

Remember when I told you about this?

I have an idea.  And it involves a little good natured mischief:

and an old tradition:

The only time I ever heard Ernie lament about being paralyzed was when we would pass by the statue of John Bozeman, founding father of our fair city.  He would say, “You know, if I could walk for a day the first thing I would do is dance on his grave.”

Cheers, Ernie.  I’ve got a good one for you.