Over her head and under her feet scattered clouds that gradually merge into solid white ice. Brooding, sky-reflecting mirrors: ice filled blisters, dragon scales of frozen earth. As if tossed on a wave of worshippers with bedsheets made of cotton, colors fresh from the dye vats. A storm of sawdust swirls, mama shells peas and puts on a loyal face. Timeless pleasures of the playground, taking his hand we plunge into the powder snow and talk in excited whispers of a tugging big top roadside circus. Two decades, then three. She raises her fists into the wind and allows it to take them - letters that are relics from the battlefield, scented with vanity and valor from one year when goodbye meant forever. Bamboo coral, gaudy sunsets that brag their ending, the sum of oz-like realms ; dark shadowed gorges and golden green meadows in her eyes and in his hair. Done with ghost-towns, done with the agony of expectation ; a heart that while often invaded is never vanquished, only blackened into an edward gorey gothic by centuries of half-lived past lives. The blue-black vault of the universe, lamps with trick shades that depict the flow of falls and camera-clicking crowds: recipe for western nostalgia, nail this pale yellow tapestry of sand and dust to the skyline. Sunshine hastening photosynthetic socery, drawing steep tiers of trees from cracks in rocks, and conjuring out of the fog great snarls of Epiphytes and fern. The milky ways as just an emporers garden of fireflies in the dark,a real life el-dorado.
Some things I have been working on : Nests for spring made out of old sewing materials and goldleaf (these are for our mantle but ryan thinks it would be fabulous of us to go put these in trees so birds can atleast pick and choose materials from them). A dress that I am putting aching time into detail wise, from an embroidered, beaded, sequin'd crescent patch to grommets in my corset, whew. Scarves. Drawing smaller pieces largescale on wood planks. Knitted leggings.
A few lovely things Ryan has bought me recently, from bouquets at the farmer market, to the prettiest scrying window amethyst, to rock candy. Matching shell necklaces from port gilded in gold (we had a beautiful little conversation with the owner of the antique store we got the latter, about fracking and ryans work for a green company. When she asked me where I worked I said, "well, it isnt a noble trade, but" and she stopped me to say that all things are noble if you really put yourself into them, which I have thought about since.
I walked into my first alcohol store recently, mostly bottle porn browsing, and though the skull vodka and the gorgeous absinthe almost broke my bank I went, instead, with a handful of tiny bottles - they were so cheap and some of the bottleshapes so adorable for fresh flowers in the spring!
I started a small plant stand behind the couch for summer.
I took a train to see ryan in pensylvania this week, where he has been working, and I cant say enough except to say that we are looking at places there, now. Lancaster especially had a very brooklyn feel to it, but then a ten minute drive brings you into a deeper south than the bible belt ever offered. The restaurants in Liditz were Amish buffets, where ten dollars bought you a christmas dinner every day - turkey, potato rolls, ham loaf, BBQ meatballs and green bean casserole. The Amish were the prevalent presence there (and a lovely one, at that), riding their horse drawn buggies equipped with blinkers, plowing field after field in light dustings of snow, tagged cattle, Everything locally produced and stamped with scripture. I've never seen so many robins in a white field or so many hawks soaring overhead.
We went thrifting in PA and the stores were small and old, and each item had little notes written about them, or from the former owner themsevles, and I thought it was a perfectly wonderful capture of the spirit of the place. I bought a bag of lace and an old sewing box filled with scrap materials, ryan bought me a small blown glass doe set! Also got a new pair of spring boots and bought ALOT of chocolate from the wilbur chocolate factory and museum.
Hotel bathrooms, ghosts and goblins. Hotels rooms were never the same for me after Stephen Kings 1408. "It's an evil fucking room.