My gift wrapping this year started with a walk in the woods to gather bits and ended with brown paper packages tied up with string. All of our gifts were handmade, out of necessity and also just because. I’m feeling super-inspired by Mary Jo Hoffman’s STILL project lately, so much so that I just ordered a plate for my tripod, and have plans to finally learn how to use my bounce flash once and for all. ...

https://youtube.com/watch?v=J7JWzoFSnLw Once a week I make bone broth. I strip the chicken carcass bare, throw it into the pot, cover it with clean, cold water. Throw in the wing, leg and thigh bones. The chicken feet are alien and I can’t bear to touch them without wearing thick purple kitchen gloves (chicken feet with little brown calluses on the bottom, like people feet after a long summer of walking barefoot to the swimming pool) but they add glucosamine, chondroitin, and minerals to the broth and so I throw them in. ...

We spent about two weeks preparing for a Market Day at our homeschool co-op. During those two weeks our home buzzed with quiet industry and focus. The experience yielded valuable lessons in ordering, inventory, budgeting, pricing and perseverance. The actual event was a success: her hand-painted wooden families and gnomes were a hit, and his sweets sold quickly as soon as lunch was over. Now she is exploring the possibilities of opening an Etsy shop, and he talks of new recipes to try. ...

I’m experimenting with through the viewfinder photography again. I find that I still love the feel of the old Kodak and the distortion and noise introduced by the dirty lenses and mirror. I love the brokenness and imperfection and mess.

We returned to Woods Edge farm for our third annual bonfire on Saturday. Angelina‘s non-profit hosted a camp for Native American youth this summer, and many of her campers returned for the day. So many sounds: Johnny Cash coming out of the barn speakers, horses neighing, a leaf blower making a giant pile for jumping, laughter, native flute. I spent time in the chilly upper pasture trying to get a good shot of the boy horses grazing. The only way I could keep them near me was to sing, so I made up the most ridiculous, operatic songs about horses and belted them while setting up my shots. Just when I thought I had the perfect picture, the horses were spooked by a squirrel. A SQUIRREL. So much for the power of opera.

I adore the rain. Can’t help myself. Rain means Good Earth sweet and spicy roiboos tea. Claude Bolling and Jean-Pierre Rampal on vinyl. A thick blanket warm from the dryer. I’m folding down and away, curling in, matting with the wet leaves.

We celebrated the life of a loved one this past weekend at the bay. Before stepping into the knee-deep water to take pictures, I pulled the bottom hem of my long grey skirt up between my legs and tucked it into the front of my waistband (think Lucy meets grapes). The flowers were so beautiful floating on the glassy surface. I followed them across the cove for a few minutes, watching the ripples from my movements gently rock each petaled head. After the sun set, the lanterns filled slowly with fire-warmed air and pulled away into the purple sky, flying in her memory and honor, while her flowers drifted in the tide below.

A walk: to show them beauty between strips of asphalt to console myself to let the urge pass (not all good things are wild and free) sweet gentle green moss frail butterfly wing round red berries a single thorn

Today is dark, cloudy and brooding. I’m listening to Pandora, making applesauce and enjoying the darkness.