Something out of Nothing Musings and more..
The last couple of weeks for me, can surely be summed up with copious arty fun, coupled with lots of laughter! To all the children and their families who came to share some of their summer time with me, thank you!
Here are some pics that highlight some of the days of morning nature walks and games, art projects ( some goopier than others) and swimming fun in the pool!
The dye pot's coming out soon and I'm excited to try our some new dye from Eugene and harvest some from my garden!! Whilst getting ready for the upcoming season of making and selling various items for fundraising, it's of course now that I remember to get out the sewing machine and finish a huge notice board fabric picture for the start of school (argh!) and as I look out for inspiring vision, the new workshop schedule will form and be posted in the next couple of weeks!! Some offers will be Free-scape sculpting and goddess dollmaking for sure, but possibly wet felted story tapestries, cornucopia felting and more in the coming months!
My dear Little Gandalf, with his long locks lightened by the sun, was worried about spending his 9th birthday away from his home, upon reflection he thoroughly enjoyed the long day's journey from Mammoth to Santa Cruz, full of surprises, whimsical lakes to sit in and high (9900ft) hiking experiences with magical rainbows to gaze in wonder, in the delights of the Yosemite Forest. 
The ancients associated the number Nine with the goddess or female aspects of divinity. In modern times, we've come to associate this number with the unconscious. In our life experience, the Nine is like a regulator, helping us to process any discrepancies between the seven and eight. Sometimes the nine will pull us toward the seven, where experience becomes the guiding force. At other times, it will pull us toward the “figuring-it-out” process of the eight. Because of this, the nine can be seen as the interface between the inner and outer self.
Planetary Aspect: The Moon. Color: Violet.
Sculpting in wool
hard to see the scale but this is about a foot high and nearly 4 feet wide Winter scape
The Romans made March ( a favourite thing to do) the first month of the year in their calendar. Both Ovid and Plutarch said that Martius, was named after Mars, the Roman god of war. Indeed, it often is a month of firsts—the first daffodil, robin, earthworm, skunk, cabbage.
Spring itself starts with the vernal equinox on March 20 this year ( My 14th wedding anniversary is on the 21st!)
Apart from being notoriously temperamental weather-wise. According to weather proverbs:
The name "Imbolc" has it’s name derived from the Gaelic “oimele” which means “ewes milk.” This major Sabbat lies opposite Lammas, and represents the very beginning of spring. This festival is for the Maiden, her renewal and has strong roots with the festivals for the Irish goddess Brigid. The name “Candlemas” is from the adaptations of rites for the Virgin Mary that the European churches held at the same time of year.
I didn't check but I also think it's the exact halfway point in the year between the Winter solstice and the Spring Equinox, making it one of the four cross-quarter days. Special, right?
firepit and retreat cave with back exit
I hope you enjoy this poem, it so perfectly captures the feeling essence of Autumn for me.
To Autumn
John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
On a completely different note, I have started writing a book that will hopefully be shared with the wide world upon it's completion...it's largely woolly in essence but will have some great creative and artistic goodies to share with felting fanatics!
Glorious is the season that begins for me, with a lovely excuse to buy some monster cereal, read some favourite stories and dark poems, feel abundant in smooth dark chocolate and drink hot cider and warm port (Oops, nothing's actually new here!)
Last but not least..Lady Autumn comes wafting in on the blustery winds. A far more gentle creature who comes to the young at heart to remind them of a special shared secret and maybe a special hand made gift to remember her in the deep winter, the Gnomie Homies are back once again thanks to a great pattern by Carle for her acorn gnomes. I wonder when she will wander through our park to visit the wee ones at Seeds of Joy?
