I am From

As I wandered the internet reading fabric artists blogs I was challenged to write one of these:
March 11, 2008

I am From


I am from Pacific evaporated milk on hot plum cobbler, from Nabob coffee, and Squirrel peanut butter in the can, and fried bologna.
I am from a house of unpainted boards, water hauled from town in barrels, and the outhouse up the path.
I am from rocky hills covered in penstemon, from Avalanch lilies, cowslips, shooting stars and Indian paintbrush, from the red tailed hawk screaming high above the trees and the fine, fat deer tippy toeing through the garden.
I am from New Year’s dinner with all the cousins, and from intense Monopoly games,
From Henry Good and Hulda Lorentzen, from Harry Peterman and Minnie Barraclough,
From Henry and Bette, who once was Margaret and is again,
I am from quick Irish humour and men who shed tears with great pain.
From “Smarten up!” and “Quiet, don’t frighten Grandpa.”
I am from Protestant Irish from County Cork and Presbyterians from York Mills.
I am from church meetings three times a week and a solid faith; faith as natural and deep as breathing.
I am from the Kootenays by way of the praries, from fresh raison bread fragrant with cardamon and wild mountain huckleberries weighing down the vines.
From a mother cutting out cotton dresses two at a time for two little matching girls and a father who, as little more than a boy, took torture rather than put on the uniform to kill.
I am from the farmer who chose the land with the rock hill, and the mother who nurtured her flowers with dishwater and determination,
From farmers and carpenters, and railway men.
I am from dusty albums stored in a trunk and memories of the heart.

Nora McDowell

Spring will come!

This was taken a few weeks ago and though the snow is mostly gone "they" predict we'll get 4 or so inches tonight and tomorrow. It won't stay and we do wait for springier weather : so do Bandy and Skeeter.

Yesterday, as James went out for firewood, he saw 24 swans winging their way north. A while back there were robins and blackbirds and innumerable joyful lbbs (as in little brown birds), but now the towees are back, bouncing in the bushes. Spring will come. It will wrench itself from the hungry arms of winter and all too soon we'll be sweltering in the summer sun.

Things are moving slowly. There are pussy willows and the snowdrops and species crocuses have been out for a week or so. The farmers must be alert to the cold weather and haven't unwrapped their honey bees yet as we've had very few and normally the crocuses would be alive with them.

I actually saw an earthworm creeping out of the dirt yesterday as we Raku fired pottery at a friend's home. Their yard was full of little mouse holes and trails unearthed by the melting snow. There were many wonderful little plant noses appearing and the bushes were full of Bohemian waxwings and Pine siskins. The waxwings leave the rose hips to the very last but yesterday that was their feast.

We seldom see jays at our place but there in Wynndel the Steller's Jays were riotously happy and Mary said they seem more brilliant than usual. I need more bushes. I can see that!

James and I (mostly James) have been trying to rescue the garden from the grasses and trim back the unruly roses. I think the cats approve. They don't know my plan to shelter a feeder in a particularly thorny bush.

We're moving forward on plans for ArtWalk, and the more imminent Big Picture Show in Crawford Bay. James is making plans for a show in our friends' home in Calgary at the end of May. In mid-May our son and his girlfriend will graduate from the Alberta College of Art And Design (ACAD) so life will continue on busily for a while.