The leaves in our neighborhood just keep getting prettier! As one tree goes bare, another bursts out in orange and red.
This is a picture of Morrison, between 33rd and 34th Avenue, just down the block. Every year at this time, it becomes covered with this perfect canopy. Everytime I walk home from the market, it takes my breath away.
Along all the streets of the neighborhood, the poplars stand out like popsicles.
And when the sun decides to come out, the back lighting really makes it special.
I know the leaves won’t last forever; enjoy them while you can!
Once the collage bug gets me, I sink in real deep. Besides doing collage with poetry, I have started making postcards again.
I make them pretty quickly, because when my brain is in the mood, the pictures come to hand and go together like lightning.
The only problem is, I can’t always think of who might enjoy the images. Some of them are pretty weird.
For you, dear Liza, I always seem to find some way to “improve” a landscape.
One of these is coming your way, and the other is going to my dear friend Richard in Salinas.
Making art just for the sake of making art, for the joy of laying down color and pattern and the satisfaction it brings, has been such a revelation for me.
Once you get past “Yes, but what’s it FOR?”, life is good.
I have been taking a break from collage for a while, doing embroidery and other things. But this last week, I had a chance the chance to sit in on a poetry meeting with my poet friend, Kitty Petruccelli, and poet January Gill O’Neil.
I knew I’d want to keep my eyes and hands busy while I listened, so I chose some acrylics in colors that seemed to go together. Then I grabbed some pictures and words out of my collage box, mostly just taking what caught my eye.
As January and Kitty talked about Poetry, the American South, and Emmet Till, I laid down some background lines and smudges. I used my old California drivers License to scrape some purple on. As the conversation touched on concerns about life in America under Donald Trump, and my scrapes became a bit more frantic.
I found this woman’s face in the same colors, and liked her half puzzled, half panicked expression.
She needed more contrast, so a Posca paint pen helped out with that. It also helped add some interest to the swoops and corners.
A scrap of singed paper and words of dark times came to hand… “Before the Nazis invaded”.
And as the poetry talk finished up, I laid down the words “Laissez nous tranquille”, which means “Leave us in Peace” and added some tiny splatters.
Thanks, Kitty and January, for a poetic, artsy, emotionally-coping sort of morning.
The election of Donald Trump as President of the U.S. has me worried for many reasons. I worry how a Presidency founded on greed, anger, misogyny, and racism will effect our country.
I worry about how people’s bodily autonomy (their right to be in charge of their own body) will be affected. Will my grandchildren be able to get the health care they need? Or will their rights be taken away because they violate some else’s religious beliefs?
I am also worrying about how these laws will affect my trans friends. Again, this is a matter of bodily autonomy. Do people get to decide with their doctors which medications or surgeries they need to be healthy? Or will their health care be declared illegal?
Talking to my friend Misha, I have learned that many trans people are needing to move from their home states, where this sort of care is under threat, to places where it is available. Trans folks also need legal services to change their names on documents. All this is expensive.
If you are worried too, and want to help but don’t know where to start, Misha works with a group called Outside In. The link to one of their fund raising sites is right here.
With a nice damp Fall, mushrooms are doing very well here in Portland.
Today, I walked around Lone Fir Cemetery. The leaves, the dead, and the damp combine to create some real beauties.
I am not an expert in fungi and don’t know the names of any of these. The only thing I know about wild mushrooms is to NOT eat them…. Unless you are properly trained.
But I am not shy about getting down on my tummy to take some close-ups! Aren’t these beautiful?
Someone picked this mushroom before I got there, and laid it on top of a grave stone.
This batch of tissue- thin mushrooms was surrounded by quite a busy swarm of gnats, so I decided I was about done, took my picture quickly and headed off.
Our nighttime temperatures are heading toward freezing, and the Hundred Acre Wood is finally changing color.
The lanky larch is getting yellow and losing its needles.The evergreen juniper stays green, of course. And the Japanese maple, Toranaga-sama, is getting red on his lower leaves.
Because the nights are so cold, we have brought all the plants up by the house. The acacia’s red blooms look so pretty with the red leaves!
And when you lean over and see them from above, it’s even better. The moss sure looks happy, right?
Sometime this winter I will scissor train the maple and the larch, and trim up the juniper. I can’t wait until spring when it all starts over again.
I’ve been working on the French Map Quilt for a couple of months now, and I think I’m almost done with the top.
My problem is, I can’t look at the WHOLE thing at once, except when I take a picture of it. At about a meter across, it’s a lot to focus on. Below, I have broken it up into four photos.
Looking here, I can see that I need more ‘grazing’ icons on the Massif Central and heading up into the Alps.
Here, the Pyrenees Mountains look a bit bare. And should there be something at the shore? Wavy lines to show the foam and dunes, maybe?
It’s hard for me to be objective… what do you think?
For now, I’m going to fold it up and let it sit. I’ll get back to it when I can see it fresh.
I have been looking forward to the 2024 Presidential election for quite some time now.
I have followed all the debates and news stories; I have enjoyed the beautiful signs placed in people’s yards. I have looked forward to having a smart, optimistic woman in charge of our country.
But Election night began with snacks and ended with tears. It was hard to fall asleep.
Screenshot
And now it is over, with an ending I can’t begin to fathom. I am disappointed in my fellow Americans, and concerned for the future.
Not just our country’s future, either. I think having Mr. Trump as President makes the whole world less safe. And since I have people I love all over the world, I worry.
What will I do now? I’m not sure. I need to think. I want to fight the fear that Mr. Trump has created with courage; the resentment he has stirred up with gratitude; the anger he expresses in every speech with joy and love.
When I figure out how to do this, I will let you know.
I love the forest in Fall! Besides the beautiful colors, the fermenting leaves give of a sweet, almost beer-like smell. Well, part beer, part bread… and all good.
Auntie Bridgett and I walked out the other day, with jackets on over sweaters, to enjoy the season.
Mushrooms are popping up as the heavy drizzles encourage them, looking like fairy creatures. Getting right down in the ground is bad for my knees, but good for my pictures!
Fallen trees become mountains of moss, with fairy cities of shelf fungus perched on their sides.
We discovered this amazing fungus in someone’s lawn by the park. It sure looks like the Death Star to me!
Even ordinary trees get a soft, starry green upholstery as the dormant moss wakes up in the rain.
I know the grey weather will become commonplace soon. But for now, I will marvel in the changing seasons.
After the fun spookiness of Halloween comes the more reflective holiday of All Souls’ Day. In Mexico it is called Dia de Los Muertos, and it is a day for remembering, celebrating, and, weather permitting, even picnicking with those who have passed on.
So today I am thinking of your Great grandma Billie and Great grandpa Lowell, my parents. They were hard working, happy people who could make just about anything fun.
I am thinking of your Great grandma Mona, Grandpa Nelson’s mom, who raised three kids on her own while teaching inner city middle schoolers about literature and history. She introduced me to live theater and political activism.
My brother Jim loved his wife Christy, son Kyle, and having fun whenever he could.
My brother Tim survived several tours in Vietnam and loved his wife Bridget, kids, camping, and fishing.
I don’t like to focus on their deaths, but rather on their lives and all they taught me about how to live. But that’s too deep a pool to swim in right now.
Dear Liza 