A-B-C’s AND BAD POETRY

Weather:  Cooler today. Low 60’s. Cloudy and damp-ish.  The return to regular time is messing with my head.

Dearest Readers,

I woke up at 5:48 am, which is now called 4:48 on the standard time clock. It will take a few days for my body to slide back into this regular time frame. I’ll miss the predawn moon and the thick stars. Why do the morning stars outshine the thin-skinned bunch at bedtime? Seriously...at 10:00pm in old time, (two nights ago), just a few sickly stars struggled to shine through the clear, dark sky. The next morning before dawn the same dark sky was full of stars. Hmmm.

I’m making an alphabet book on blurb.com for my two year old granddaughter, Rosie for Christmas.

I’m enjoying the silliness of creating nincompoop drawings and bad-but-cute rhyming poetry to accompany each letter on a page. Ever have the urge to let loose and be a little foolish?

Here are nine crazy creatures I’ve completed so far.
 (P.S. My grandma name is Ni-ne). 

A is for Alfie

He’s strong and he’s quick.

He likes to greet friends

With a bark and a lick.

 B is for Betty

Feisty and small,

Who yelps whenever

Ni-ne comes to call.

 C is a cockatiel named Dudley.

He’s cute and yellow

But not very cuddly.

 D is for Ducky

Who floats in the tub,

Like the three men of old

Who sang rub-a-dub-dub.

E is for Etta

Who has a long nose.

She likes to play outside

With Ni-ne and Rose.

F is for Felix

Shiny and black,

Who swims round and round,

Forward and back.

 G is for goat

Who munches all day

On grass and weeds,

Branches and hay.

H is for hydrant

With a hippo on top,

Who spins and dances

And hates to stop.

 I is for i-phone

Full of apps

For games and weather,

And GPS maps.

 

SANDY, WINDOW POEMS AND QUILTED HEADS

Weather: Low 60’s, sunny, gusty.  40’s tonight.

HURRICANE

I wake to a sound like shimmering satin–

A prom queen maneuvering

Through her moiré gown.

It’s Hurricane Sandy’s entourage,

Swirling leaves, creaking the cedar

That scratches my window,

Twirling the elm

And scattering her bones.

Clouds limned in vampire light

Fast-forward across a full moon.

Somewhere the tide is heaving against a beach

Far and away from here.

     -C.Kane 10.29.2012

Dearest Readers,

Hurricane Sandy swished the hem of her wide flowing robe across Georgia this week, and gave us a taste of her cold windpower. It’s still chilly and a bit breezy, but I can’t complain. We were spared her fury this time.

The past few mornings I’ve awoken before dawn, and turned the crank on my old fashioned window to let in the smells and sounds of autumn. This stirred up memories and plumbed my soul. Two poems emerged in response.

ZERO MASS

That smell snuck in my little window

Like a ghost with zero mass.

She unfurled her wings upon entering,

Swirled around the ceiling and my bed,

Trailing a film of sheer intimations

Of soil mixed with rain and regret.

-C.Kane 10.28.2012

OUT OF THE BLUE  

This knowing is a cloak

Across my shoulders

Bestowed by bluebirds perhaps,

When I was doing something else.

Out of the blue a deep wisdom

Arrived and filled the burrows

Where my blind digging was proceeding.

Like groundwater, it rose into these places

And quietly, without my looking,

Filled in the tunnels and softened the stones.

-C.Kane 10.27.2012

Finally, dear readers, at the risk of overwhelming you with more aspects of my self-portraits of feelings, here are seven vintage hankies that I laser-printed two years ago with my face photographed in the bathroom mirror– 89 consecutive days with my feeling of the moment. I’m quilting them individually now...not for a bedspread or a wall hanging...just for themselves in all their intimacy.  It is tiny, delicate lapwork. I finish about one a week. I needed an antidote to the hole digging, tree hacking, ladder lashing and stone cutting last summer. Have you ever felt the need to act both big and small?

So here they are. Remnants of a Catholic school childhood. Hankies that belonged to Hazel, my mother, that the nuns allowed in the little breast pocket of my grammar school uniform. Appropriated now to investigate who I am in the midst of shifting emotions. 82 more to come.

Day #23. Cuddly

Day #60. Compliant

Day #74. Healthy

Day #75. Alive

 

Day #78. Pumped up

 

Day #80. Loved

Day #87. Helpful

SEEDS, PODS AND VERTICAL DRAG

 

Weather: High 70’s today, breezy, mostly clear blue sky. 50’s tonight.

Seeds, Pods & Nutcases

Dearest Readers,

I’ve been slow in adjusting to my Southern Normal–six weeks since my last blog when I left Vermont, and over a month since arriving in Decatur. As usual after the long drive, I couldn’t shake a breathless sensation in my chest for a week or so, and a fuzzyness in the head.  I call it Vertical Drag. It’s some sort of jet lag for same-time-zone auto travel–in this case north to south within the same longitude. (Rutland VT to Georgia). It’s like a mean old friend, come back to nag me. Gone now and good riddance. 

Along the route home I picked up some signs of Fall in the shape of seeds, pods and tree detritus. I did some drawings realistically at first with a sharp HB pencil and some touches of white, then I let-it-rip for the second rendering. 

My grandson Roman and I found a spiky chestnut pod on the sidewalk in Brooklyn. It’s been slowly opening its clamshell mouth on my Decatur window sill.  A chestnut rattles around inside.

Chestnut 1

Chestnut 2-Dream of a Chestnut

I picked up a storm-downed pecan on the ground in Raleigh, NC at my friend Ann’s house along my route home.

Ann's pecan #1

Ann's pecan #2-Dream of a pecan

I brought a pointy, pimply milkweed pod from Vermont that burst forth a slew of silky, seed parachutists throughout my kitchen.

Milkweed Pod and seeds

Vermont milkweed pod and seeds #1

Vermont milkweed pod and seeds #2

 In Atlanta, Fall manifests in a magnolia tree’s seed casing, studded with red kernels tucked inside custom sleep cells...that already broke out.

Magnolia Seedcase #1

Magnolia Seedcase #2

Grandson Jack gave me a tiny acorn with a poufy beret

Jack's Atlanta Acorn 9.23.2012

 I rescued a fat standard pine cone from the street, 

Decatur Pine cone 9.30.2012

and some sort of tree vine seedpod frozen in the act of spitting out its contents, long gone.

Tree vine seed case_Decatur10.1.2012

My cherry tomato plant still produces a few fruits a week. I pop them in my mouth and taste the sharp, acid-sweet flavor burst in my mouth.

Cecelia's Cherry Tomatoes #1

Cecelia's Cherry Tomatoes #2

I’ve set up my studio in my home again. I’m playing regularly with my grandson and granddaughter, visiting friends and going to openings. From out of the blue, a feeling of deep wisdom has settled in.

FALL IS COMING-I’M GOING

 Weather: 50’s today, windy, grey clouds, turbulent sky. 30s-40s tonight. Frost predicted in isolated hollows.

 Maple beginning to turn on a dewy morning

 Dearest Readers,

Autumn in Vermont is in the wind, and I am getting ready to return to Decatur, GA this Saturday the 15th. I miss you Southern friends, my kids and grand kids. 

Cecelia, Michael and Susan at SculptFest opening party inside

 The opening reception of The Well, my marble lined hole and ladder in SculptFest 2012 was a great party inside, but a complete washout outside. The same squall that spawned a tornado Saturday in Brooklyn, NY dumped sheets of driving rain on the installations Saturday evening. We had a great party in spite of the mess. The Well filled partly with water, but drained nicely, and survived in perfect shape, all white and washed clean. I took this picture Sunday afternoon around 3pm in a bright blue autumn-ish light.

Hole survives the deluge in perfect, spanking clean whiteness

When the show ends in late October, the hole will remain a permanent piece on the grounds of the Carving Studio. The director plans on sending me regular photos, as nature inevitably will alter The Well’s appearance. (Cool!)

I’ll close with pictures in Rutland that mean fall in Vermont is on the way.

Early morning clouds rising from mountain valley in Rutland

Dad and son Noah waiting for the school bus at East St and E. Center St.

Boarding the bus at East St. and E. Center St.

Rutland's United Way Drive Thermometer

Leaves and plum-like fruit fall from a tree

Powdery mildew on a summer squash leaf

Rutland Vermont State Fair ends this week

Entrance to Vermont State Fair in Rutland

Dewy morning spider webs

Crows on old Dana School building-overcast sky

DAY 22 – THE HOLE IS DONE!

  DAY 22, Monday: Mid 70’s. Dry. Blue sky. Brilliant sun. 

The Well

Dearest readers,

Done. Finito. The hole project at the Carving Studio is complete–five days ahead of schedule. She’s officially entitled “The Well”.  (She because I feel like I’ve been inside the earth’s body).

The small hole within the hole

 I re-dug and repaired the small hole that once again descends 18” under the floor of the larger hole. Jonathan, the Studio Manager and I lowered the 14 foot hand-hewn ladder into that small shaft today, cleaned up the surrounding area and...Voila! She goes down and rises up.

Ladder emerges from inside the smaller hole

A thought or two...

Week 1: In the digging phase, I hoped I would have insights into my deepest self and maybe some answers about the nature of death. I fancied myself the “hero” on a personal quest, struggling against adversity to find some kind of truth. Instead, I became aware of my body and its limits, concentrating on practical stuff like not pulling a muscle or straining my back. No grandiose ideas or ultimate truth emerged from my tired brain.

Week 2: Figuring out how to make the ladder was stressful. I have zero experience with woodworking. I couldn’t sleep that week, worried that I would not be able to harvest the wood parts from the trees on site, or make the ladder strong enough. I learned a big lesson. Just Do It! Take the first tentative step, be patient and attentive to maintaining the ladder’s beauty as well as practicality. With this attitude adjustment, and an openness to suggestions from sculptors, I fashioned a workable ladder from the natural materials at hand. It served as a big ego boost and an eye opener. I am grateful to Louis Lalli for showing me the boyscout lashing technique.

Week 3: Lining the hole with the marble shards provided meditative time. Piecing and fitting was a gentle exercise in hand-eye coordination. As I spiraled the shards up the dirt walls, I felt like I was building a life, step by step. It was the opposite of Shakespeare’s idea of life’s “mortal coil” in Hamlet, unwinding like a spool of thread. This mortal coil was wrapping up into a life, stone by stone.

The opening reception is this Saturday the 8^th from 5-8pm at the Carving Studio, 636 Marble Street in West Rutland, Vermont. I hope some of you readers can attend. SculptFest runs through October 21^st.