woodchips, sawdust and shirtless shop boys
Since I have been pretty good about documenting the carving process of the current sculpture, I’ll post a few more photos to help catch up to where I am currently with the piece. The piles of woodchips and sawdust in the photos are actually long gone by now – carted off by my shop leprechauns. Ok. Not really. But I can’t help my Disney World fantasy of elves or leprechauns that whistle and clean the studio when I’m in bed at night so that I can enter each morning to a sawdust free work space, chisels sharpened and the smell of one fresh cinnamon roll next to a hot cup of tea.
Maybe I HAVE been ingesting too much sawdust?!
The other clean shop fantasy involves shirtless shop boys and was actually started by a video of Louise Nevelson I watched while attending school at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts many many moons ago. She had handsome shop boys who handled all the heavy labor of creating her large steel sculptures. She was pretty old; wearing her long fake eyelashes, hair in a scarf, a flannel shirt and holding a cigarette in a long filter which she used to point with between dramatic drags of tobacco. The shop boys (ok - they were young men - remember Louise must have been in her 70's or so) - the young men would look to her for direction. She would nod or shake her head and point with that long filtered cigarette. I vowed then and there to have my own pack of shop boys when I'm too old to do the tough stuff by myself. Shirtless is my addition to the plan. I'll skip the cigarette but maybe false eyelashes...?
post payden ride perma-grin
Still grinning and giddy from the grand day riding 100 miles for Payden yesterday; I am bubbling beyond joy. Who knew?!!
I am not exactly sure what I expected. I just know that since the event’s inception eleven years ago I wanted to participate but was limited to sponsoring riders since I didn’t own a road bike. The used bike is new to me and BOY HOWDY am I ever a newbie at road riding…! The sport looks simple on the outside but like most things, there is more to it than meets the eye.
For example: I had no idea that road bike tires don’t hold air and should be checked before every ride. I don’t even own one of those tire gage pumps even though I have been a pretty avid mountain biker for nearly two decades. The new bike and I have only ridden together five times since spring but yesterday morning I had the event number "113" pinned to my brand new very 1st bike jersey and road out of Sacageua Park at 6:15 a.m. with a batch of friends after three hours of sleep. My bike felt sluggish. I looked down at my tires in the dim dawn light and decided I was simply feeling a bit sluggish myself – seriously – not even the sun was up fully. I hadn’t been on the bike for six weeks, I am always a bit slow to warm up and I was more concerned about how the seat felt since I knew it was going to be a long ride and the seat felt – well – it felt (which was my concern). Promptly distracted by the large Canadian Goose, my concerns were forgotten. The determined critter was running behind us with its beak wide open flapping its wings and waddling high speed – block after block after block. Seems the beautiful bird didn’t want to be left behind or was giving us a running ovation start?!!! How many centurion fundraising events start with a goose chase?!
We left Livingston and began the climb up the Bozeman Pass. I was grinning even then – finally I was going to ride for Payden and other Montana families faced with the gut wrenching challenge of a child with cancer. I rode with the warm fuzzy force of more than 30 people who pledged my ride during the short four-day pre-event fundraising campaign. How wonderful to have such good people in my world and the good fortune of a healthy body and new toy to put to a good cause! My generous sponsors blew past my $1000 fundraising goal. I was emotionally, physically and spiritually stoked (and still laughing about the goose).
The Pass wasn’t too bad. Everyone said the next pass was harder but the gorgeous rolly polly curved luscious and scenic ride through Jackson Creek was inspirational. The Bridger Mountains are a fantastic backdrop and setting. Not only were we riding in God’s country but God’s country also happens to be my back door! The temps were perfect. Gracious cloud cover subdued the sun. I rode long sections by myself and other bits with others. We were sharing the usually quiet road with dozens of trucks pulling horse trailers. Was there a rodeo somewhere? The “Poker Ride” sign at the Big Sky Ski Resort turnoff explained the horse trailer exodus. Big trucks and trailers are a bit scary for this novice road rider. A group of gal pals caught up with me on the climb up Battle Ridge Pass. We chatted and puffed our way up the pass then gorged ourselves on goodies at the rest stop set up for us at the top. While the gals zipped down the mountain pass without peddling, I pedaled full speed to keep their pace. Hmmmmm?! Maybe there was a technical reason the bike had been for sale?! I looked at my tires again but they simply looked super skinny and certainly not flat from my point of view besides it was infinitely more fun to suck in the view than to stare at the road or worry about my bike.
The road to Wilsaw in the Shields Valley is no less scenic than the Bridger Mountains we’d left behind. The Crazy Mountains loomed ahead while the postcard perfect countryside boasted beautiful ranches, silos, haystacks, patchwork fields, giant John Deere tractors and the Shields River. Breathtaking. Speaking of breath – I was panting. Val waved the SAG wagon over to have them look at my tires since she thought they looked a low.
Low?!! I quickly learned a valuable lesson about road bike tires. “ALWAYS check and pump before EACH ride” our local bike shop fella and friend Storrs told me while shaking his head. I learned that my tires should be at 120 pounds of pressure, which explains the sluggishness since they were at 30 and 40 pounds respectfully. Egads! More than 4 hours, two mountain passes and 60+ miles into the ride and the gift of properly pumped tires made me feel taller in my seat but more important: each pedal stroke was oodles more efficient. I also felt each little road bump more but it’s a fine trade-off when you consider the heavy -work-load option of biking on nearly deflated tires.
I could have kissed Val and our SAG wagon guru Storrs. Which makes me want to mention the overwhelming love I feel for all of the people who volunteer behind an event like this. Cheery people set up rest stops with fresh water and munchies at intervals. The SAG wagon fixed flat after flat followed by mechanicals etc. Professional massage therapists greeted us at Sacajawea Park to give free massages after riders crossed the cheering finish line. The energy people shared brightened a loving force and fueled our cause. The only thing that kept me from grinning stupidly throughout the ride was the threat of bugs in my teeth.
I learned quite a bit about myself, others and the sport of road riding. I took turns in the lead “drafting” in a pack of fellas while riding the final twenty miles in a headwind. Throughout the day we shared stories, laughs, panting, ibuprofen and encouragement during the eight hours on the road. Momma Nature graced us with cool temps and pummeled us with a memorable wee tantrum of big-drop rain right before the finish line. The scenery was out of this world. My fanny faired better than expected. The goodwill feeling stitched together by caring community put a perma-grin on my face. I wore the grin home, filled my clawfoot tub, poured a glass of wine and ate brownies while I soaked.
I don't yet know the Blazing Saddles event fundraising total but my pledged contribution was more than $1700 for the Payden Memorial Foundation. Donations can still be made on my pledge page. A bright yellow jersey was given to me for raising more than $1000. The jersey has Payden's sweet six year old signature printed on his hand print on the backside along with a drawing he did of himself on each sleeve. Sweet. Sad. Touching. Inspiring.
I imagine it will be a few days before I pull on my new jersey and ride. I guarantee I will have pumped up tires and an inflated smile to match.
worthy cause event
A sweet bit of grace added a little road bike to my arsenal of outdoor adventure toys this spring – why not use if for a good cause?!
Actually the Payden Memorial Foundation is more than a good cause: A Livingston family lost their dear sweet 6-year-old boy to cancer in 2000. The foundation is their way to celebrate Payden's life by helping Montana families who face the nightmarish challenge of a child with cancer. The Blazing Saddles ride is the biggest fundraising event for the foundation. Each year I have pledged my support to a number of riders but this year I will ride 100 miles for the cause.
I have never ridden 100 miles...! The event snuck up on me (yes – the studio work keeps me captivated) so I registered last minute (Monday) and have been raising pledges since. I haven't trained - in fact I have ridden the bike exactly five times earlier this spring (but once was during a triathlon and another ride was over a mountain pass).
The day after tomorrow I will plunk my butt down on that wee little seat and pedal for Payden. I have almost reached my goal of $1000 in pledges and would LOVE to beat it!!!
Your support and a bit of gumption on my part can help take care of families during their heartbreaking struggle.
Just take a quick moment to click on this link to sponsor: http://blazingsaddles.dojiggy.com/amberjean
You’ll reap the sparkle of warm fuzzies and my heartfelt gratitude…
in the beginning...
Thunder is rolling outside. Zaydee is a bit bummed (scared by Momma Nature’s grumbling) but so far she hasn’t crawled under my desk. I am once again light years behind on the desk part of studio life but here is my main excuse: FOUR batches of guests in the last two weeks. The post-it notes are spreading like ants across my desk (ugh! ANTS!!! – that was a whole other battle in my cabin with giant carpenter ants but I won’t be side-tracked…!)
My plans to keep the blog current with photos of progress of my latest sculpture have been thwarted by the 4th of July, being a host and – well – life! Thus this photo was taken three weeks ago. The Fir is MUCH softer than the Mesquite I worked with recently AND it smells better. I don’t blame Mesquite for smelling the way it does. The wood is old, dense, dark and slow growing but my gut instinct tells me Mesquite is toxic. Fresh intoxicating NEW wood smell permeates my studio as the piles of woodchips and sawdust pile up. I love being hit with the aroma of fresh cut wood when entering my studio early in the morning!
snow angels on black mountain summit
Eleven studio days straight in a row – AWESOME to be sooooooo inspired to create. I ignore my phone and computer each day til noon (and often after that). The first sculpture in a new series has me captivated while the woodchips and sawdust pile up. Yes! I’ll have photos but this post is going to be about my day off!!
Sunday morning before sunrise I packed water, food, ice ax and crampons for an early season accent of Black Mountain. What a GLORIOUS day!!!
Engorged with melted snow, the waterfalls were bigger than I’ve ever seen – breathtaking!!! We hiked several thousand feet above Paradise Valley to Pine Creek Lake, which was mostly covered in ice. Snow gullies and talus slopes led to the summit of Black Mountain above the lake where Joe Joe, Ari and I napped and hung out for two hours before glissading down the snow bowl to the lake. I promptly jumped in (twice)…! REFRESING to say the least…! We spent another few hours lounging at the lake while Joe tried to catch fish (I saw him catch himself but I shouldn’t mention that…)
The rock, the water, the sky, the moss, and the views are simply out of this world – like something from Lord of the Rings. The summit was infinitely easier to tag than the last time I was up there 3 years ago before surgery to remove the debilitating five-pound tumor. Luckily my health and fitness have returned with a vengeance. Even with only 2 hours of sleep, the summit felt like a walk in the park. I could have Snoopy danced (and would of but I didn’t want Zaydee to get too excited for fear that she would dance her way onto the cornice and disappear. Instead we made snow angels (Zaydee too)
Click the link below for a super short snow angel’s video -be sure to watch Zaydee...!
View the Black Mountain album on my Facebook page for more photos of our adventure.
a stay-cation and a new beginning...
Other than a weekend here and there, I haven’t actually taken a total vacation for nearly a year. The studio calls me with urgency and it seems that I can never get caught up on the business part of art life. The excitement of launching a new sculpture series has my total commitment. The series began in my head during this very month last year. I’ll write more about the series soon. I haven't indulged in creating a non-commissioned piece in over seven years...! My heart yearns to the point of pain for all that I desire to express. The voice compels me to ....believe.
Begin I must. The new log stood for over a week without me making a mark. A blank canvas while inviting can also be intimidating. Plus the built up pressure and tumbling ideas of a NEW series…! Like a climber at the base of a towering peak, I found myself fiddling with my “gear.” Preparing mentally, spiritually and physically to begin this new journey. I trust the process but where to begin?!
Then a friend arrived from Texas. I shared my space, place and Montana springtime world and didn’t work for FIVE whole days. The endless office duties were totally ignored. We spent a few rainy evenings drinking wine while sitting in front of the new log in my studio. Just being with the piece is important to my process. My sketchbook had pages of sketches done before Jeffery’s arrival but none were just right for this particular hunk of wood.
The morning after a plane took my guest back to Texas, I entered the studio, lit incense, pulled on work clothes, played music and began this drawing. Each morning the rest of the week I tweaked the drawing ‘til finished. I believe the mini-reprieve, a little "stay cation" without actually leaving was just what I needed.
Now the carving begins…
baby critter season
Little spotted Bambi babies, geeky gangly moose calves, impressively fast elk youngsters and wee tiny antelope – I just love animal baby season!!
Last week a momma deer stood below the studio zip line in the rain with the “ready to pop” look about her barrel belly. I imagine she brought life into the world that very day somewhere. Each day I expect to see little “Zippy” or “Zippers” peeking from the grass and trees behind the studio. I did get to see another brand new Bambi last night after plans to climb were thwarted by rain. The youngster wanted to suckle right there in the middle of the road.
Last Friday I joined my dear friend Joe for a Pronghorn baby watching session. Joe works with ranchers to modify antelope friendly fencing along Pronghorn migrant corridors. He wanted to photograph antelope babies for his blog. I sent Joe a “count me in” text at 4:30 am (being an insomniac has a few advantages). Thirty minutes later we drove up Paradise Valley as the sun sparkled on the Yellowstone River. Joe and I really didn’t know how best to go about the whole animal baby-watching mission. We klutzed and bumbled - but our efforts were rewarded: two frolicking big-eyed antelope babies were spotted less than 25 minutes into our mission. Wee teeny tiny big-earred buggers on springs - the brand new babies were enchanting. Vying for a better vantage point, we may have spooked them into hiding. Thus we sat and waited. They are so good at sitting still, they become invisible. Of course sitting as still as an antelope baby is impossible for me.
We waited for hours while the mother grazed and napped. Joe and I finally gave up, headed back to his car – and right into one of the babies. The little bugger sprang up just four feet from me and hopped away on delicate twiggy legs. Not much more than 8 pounds and fairy-like. We had no idea just how close we had been the whole time.
proof is in the butt print
I actually call this my “Mr Roger’s Chair.” The stool sits near the closet where I keep my work clothes. Most days I sit on it for a few moments while I put on my studio shoes. But the chair is lightweight - easy to move – so I also use it to contemplate the large sculptures from various viewpoints while working.
All part of my job.
memorial weekend - snow and sawdust
The holiday weekend weather forecast for Lander, Wyoming didn’t sound too promising. Then too, my truck had a leftover cough despite its recent weeklong stay with a local mechanic. So I canceled plans to join friends from Jackson in Sinks Canyon for a climbing/camping adventure and opted to stay home. Truthfully – the pull of the new log laying-in-wait at the studio was enough to keep me happily here. I have work to do!
Rescued from the storm, the Petunias reward me with their aroma even as they take over my wee cabin. Who doesn’t LOVE the smell of fresh flowers?! Thick pink bunny flannel jammie pants, a hat and gloves have replaced the sandals and shorts worn a week ago on the walk through the woods to the studio. The “Mr. Rogers Closet” in my studio has Carhart overalls already warm from hanging in the mechanic room next to the woodstove. Wood is chopped, a fire started and tea made before the workday begins. The squeak toy Zaydee carried through the woods from the cabin is abandoned in a pile of sawdust when a biscuit is pulled from her treat jar. Thus begins a studio day…
Alas. The straight-line math part of art is NOT my forte. Cliff and I spent more than a few hours on two separate days working on the log. We set up a chainsaw jig, scratched our heads, cut slices and made sawdust but without the perfect results desired. Luckily my buddy Dustin is a skilled timber framer. He saved me tooth gritting irritation and time by setting the log straight. Phew!
Now the fun begins...
soon...?
My poor petunias were wearing a sparkle layer of thick frost this morning when I woke in a cloud surrounded by dense cold wet heavy grey. Snow is blowing sideways, a fire crackles in my studio, the new log lies in wait…
And wait it must.
Computer ailments and my sputtering truck, both fresh from their respective doctors are still in need of more expert care – so despite the pull of the new sculpture and the creative ideas screeching like playful monkeys in my head I must bundle up, head over the mountain pass in a snowstorm and take care of the truck and computer first.
Tomorrow?
next...!
Momma Nature loomed, sputtered and lashed with chilling wind but like a dog that is “all bark and no bite” she blew right over us as the log was sawn.
thinking of you dad
Tears sprung involuntarily this morning when I realized the date while writing a check at Matt's sawmill for the new log. May 23 is my father's birthday. Dad would have turned 73 today.
Yesterday I stumbled across an email written to my aunt during the trip to Nebraska a year ago to bury my father. She never got it. The email was returned unsent but surfaced since I'm still trying recover data and a zillion email addresses lost in the recent computer crash. Since today is my father's birthday, somehow it seems right to share a bit of rambling that poignantly popped me back to the plains where my father grew up. Memorial weekend is nearly here. Below is an intimate slice from life at this time last year when I drove Mom to Nebraska in her Lincoln Continental to bury my father.
Written to my aunt:
Chance of "a scattered thunderstorm" was posted on the TV screen above the coffee machine in of a small lobby at the Super 8 in Kimball while I checked in. The sky was perfectly clear. A vivid pink red splotch of sunset sat on the horizon behind the trees and the interstate like a wine stain on a pale blue dress. One would imagine that the sun would stretch itself across the mountain-less landscape, settling itself lazily with glee across the low rolling hills but it just hovered over one small area of sky. Contained -by what? The sunsets back home in Big Sky country spew all over the place. Like an overzealous dance number in an old Hollywood musical, they go on and on taking up the whole screen (and then some). I didn't see a thundercloud anywhere when I parked the Lincoln and gathered things out of the giant deep trunk where Dad's and Taz's ashes are stored beneath a plaid blanket.
Mom carried her tiny 16 x 12 x 6 inch peacock blue bag that was part of the new set of luggage I helped her find for her trip to Denver last winter. She carries on and on with amazement about how HEAVY the bag is (insert multiple exclamation points here and imagine plenty of wide-eyed huffing and puffing with a bit of exasperation.) Both nights on the road I've left her with the one little bag to carry and each time she pokes along like a delicate wingless little bird strapped down by something that weighs 8 times its own body weight. Considering her tiny size 1 frame and the contents of the bag - maybe the little bag does weigh more than her. The heaviest thing in it is the giant can of aerosol hairspray, then her light-up makeup mirror, two small flowered makeup bags, underwear, socks (which she wears with her sandals) and a few zip lock baggies of misc. The bright blue bag doesn't weigh much. I worry about how physically weak she is. That and the fact that Mom coughs like grandma did, soft and phlegmee in the morning.
The "one scattered thunderstorm" struck.
Storms smell, sound and feel different in the plains -but perfect somehow. The loud whir/whine noise of semi trucks and the interstate are woven with deep throated thunder in my memory of this place. Cottontail rabbits, lawn ornaments, oil well rigs and grain silos punctuate the landscape of my memory of Nebraska.
they say things happen in threes...
My computer crashed. BIG time. The poor thing took ill somewhere between Texas and Montana. The computer spent several days in ICU where recovery seemed possible – news was slow but promising. Alas – four days later came the fated phone call – basically the computer died in surgery. I took it to Bozeman for a second opinion and another expensive round at resuscitation – without results. Nine months of computer data is lost forever (no one to blame but myself). I guess more than two decades of computing without a single crash made me complacent when it came to back up. Silly girl; LESSON LEARNED. Before me lies a whole new chapter; beneath my fingers is a super sweet snappy new Mac (my 1st). The crash sucked a ton of studio and fun time into a vortex of lost data, computer doctor visits and irritation. I face the looming learning curve with a deepened appreciation; technology certainly has inserted itself into the morrow of business and communication. I am humbled by my mistakes and wowed by the cleverness of my new Mac – a whole new chapter!
My truck broke down.
The “check engine” light went on during my trip over the pass to Bozeman to purchase a new computer while in the post-computer-crash crisis. I’ve NEVER seen the “check engine” light before. The truck still feels rather new to me despite five years and 90,000 miles together; bought used with 30,000 miles on it – it is only the 3rdtruck I have owned in the last two decades. The initial diagnosis was puzzling – meaning even the shop computers and my trusted mechanic couldn’t figure it out. After hearing about my computer and the fact that my beloved o’l Wedgewood oven mysteriously quit working a day before the truck broke down, my mechanic advised me to stay home, “Don’t touch anything. Don’t start anything. Don’t go visit your neighbor unless you don’t like him,” Rodney the mechanic advised.
The truck has been in the shop for more than a week but a handful of friends offered to lend me their rigs or a ride – thus I am not totally stranded and once again feel lucky to be taken care of by people around me. Honestly during the past nine months or so had a nagging anxious feeling about my truck. I asked a few friends to drive it and see if they felt what I felt but what I felt wasn’t actually mechanical or possible to pin point. I just had a feeling that something was or was about to go wrong. I find myself noticing other trucks; test-drove a Tundra but feel an allegiance to Ford - we'll see. I would rather shop for logs than vehicles - thus I managed to get some log shopping time in - excited to begin a new series of sculptures...soon!!!
dancing in the texas full moonlight
April ended with me clinging to a rock spire. May began with a weekend at Charco Ranch where the sculptures arrived safely just as a big Beeville Fire Department fundraiser weekend party at Charco Ranch kicked off. I pulled on a bright red volunteer T-shirt and jumped in to help out. Thirty-two teams gathered with their BIG black barreled cookers to compete in a BBQ cook-off. Yum! The only thing better than the “no one is a stranger” genuine warmth of the Texas people, is the addition of delicious BBQ and libations to their innate hospitality. Despite the 97 degree temps, each team hovered over hot cookers and offered heaps of succulent flesh, beans and liquor to anyone. I couldn’t quit grinning (or sweating). I drank my first (and 2nd) “Salted Dog,” spun to live music on a wooden dance floor in the middle of the covered riding arena, dished up and served fried fish and half chickens.
The BBQ fellas from Lufkin Texas charmed me the first evening. Jeffery traded his camouflage and hunter orange “GAM” (Grown- Ass Men) team hat for my flame embellished Devil Women Saloon cap. Dances were promised but forgone when the party moved into the saloon. People are so totally taken with the custom Devil Woman Saloon Reliquary sculptures. I must say it is fun to see and hear reactions as the sculptures hold court in their special spot in the world. The next night brought more live music, plenty of dancing, and two auctions. Once again the evening topped off with the intimate fun companionship and craziness in the Devil Woman Saloon where Brenda reigns as a fun-loving gracious and generous hostess.
A bigger-than-life full moon landed languid and lit on the final night. We took one of the Kabota’s for a middle of the night spin on the 7000 acre ranch. Spider webs lit and popped like fireworks as we bust through them, the front windshield open, hair flying. Parked beneath a twisted knurly mesquite tree, serenaded by whippoorwills and visited by a wee little armadillo – new friendships were formed. Stories were swapped and punctuated by an electrical storm which danced across the horizon until dawn.
from peek party to peak
Warm fuzzy goodness surrounds me like a comfy cardigan on this super BIG snowflake spring day. The “Sneak Peek” party last week was sweet – good peeps and sincere support. We zip-lined under the impressive Montana mountain sky - shared fun and libations. I feel over-the-top blessed with this place and my pals. The yummy feeling lingers and I find myself excited for future studio celebrations. “Dancing in Orion” is on its way to Texas along with 6 bronze dog banks. Phew!
I woke early Friday morning, sang and danced through the post party clean up, packed my sleeping bag, climbing gear, Moscow Mule fix'ns and warm clothes. Zaydee jumped aboard and we scooted out of town in a snowstorm. The weather forecast was iffy but my girlfriend Leslie and I were both itching for adventure – even if it meant simply hanging out in hot springs and finding a hotel room if the weather proved too adverse. Alas we were charmed!!! City of Rocks in Idaho is a mystical magical playground. We climbed, camped and soaked through the sunny weekend - what a blast!!! 
I must say it felt really good to have rock under my hands and a whole weekend off to play. We shared climbs with friends from Wyoming and Colorado. Leslie and I sat on top of Morning Glory Spire Sunday afternoon- a special spot in the world made more special when shared with a dear friend under a vivid blue sky with breathtaking views.
Zaydee and I slept in the back of my truck next to the soothing sound of the Madison River on our way home Sunday night. We drove beneath a stretched out lazy sunrise Monday morning and arrived at the studio in time to bundle up and load the new sculpture. The studio is begging me to make new messes – I can’t wait! But for now I’ve the desk part of life and pre-trip packing to do. Tomorrow I will be in Texas.
sneak peek
Come and see “Dancing in Orion”
before the 2000 pound sculpture gets bundled up and put on a truck to Texas
I never publish photos of a finished commission before my client gets to see the sculpture in person but my studio will be Open Thursday April 26 from 5-8
So that friends can come have a peek!
Music, refreshments and (of course) the zip line….see you soon?
dancing in orion
Early morning sun filled the studio with soft spring light. I sat for a moment to look at the sculpture just completed. Bright light softness filled my insides, my heart overflowed and my eyes sprang tears. Relief? Satisfaction?
Happiness.
LOVE
Simply commissioned to create a “Reliquary” sculpture from the 2000 pound mesquite log, I promised my client a horse motif but was given total freedom to create. Sculptures become pages torn from my journal; sprung from my head and heart, composed like a poem layered with meaning and woven with life.
I put the final touches on “Dancing in Orion” six months after the first cut in wood. The three bright stars of Orion’s belt float in the niche. Each hand carved turquoise blue stained star is inscribed with a name; Jake, Ali and Sami. Bright lights, beautiful souls and bold blossoming beings – those three special people blaze my sky and punctuate my world - always and in all ways.
I climbed onto their zip line landing platform in a tree behind the studio with a cup of tea and a piece of blueberry peach pie. Gifted with grace and a moment of peace, I soaked in the sun; marveled at the memories. Excitement fluttered like a vibrant butterfly, skin tingled with the promise of adventure - inside and outside the studio.
golden green day
Springtime in the Rockies pumps up Momma Nature’s “switchy mood.” She puts on and discards outfits in a fast frenzy like a gal getting ready for a date; fun and frilly (snow), grunge (mud), hail (heels), blue sky (blue jeans), rain (sleek and slithery) or even the flannel-pajamas-grey-day kind of rain. Rarely does Momma Nature settle on something for a full 24 hours. She keeps us guessing. The only thing somewhat consistent is her frenzy. The wind has been pretty relentless and definitely a hindrance in my plans to join my buddy Chris for a flight in his helicopter. Chris said the wind allowed him only one flight in the last 6 weeks (just to see if he still knew how). So when Momma Nature decided to take a sunny morning nap from the frenzy, Chris whipped me right up into the calm blue sky in the magic bubble of a helicopter. SUPER!!!
Birds-eye view is ALL it is cracked up to be - oodles better than a plane. We could hover just high enough to turn the folks and trucks below into a miniature toy world surrounded by mountains. AH - the mountains!!! We circled around Gallatin Valley then zipped across the pass into Paradise Valley so that I could gander at my place. Lordy my studio is BIG!! The zip line added to the toy-land look of my place. Chris handled his copter well – smooth – but not smooth enough for my touchy inner ears. I can get sick on a swing set. Thus while the golden pre-spring world below barely hinted at the lush green it will become; I got greener and greener and greener.
Luckily I did not have to pull the pre-packed puke bag out of my pocket. I did however have to sit on the ground within a minute of landing and close my eyes to the movement of the rotors. Next time I will pre-medicate even though Dramamine makes me spacey. I want to dodge around the peaks and scoot among narrow canyons. Chris is a gem. The copter is a joy.
twist of fate
“Here you are climbing all over God's creation and you fall down your own stairs,” my friend Kat wrote to me this morning.
Yup.
Certainly there are a gazillion ways climbing, hiking, biking, dancing and creating big sculptures using ladders and stuff that I could bugger myself up but I simply rolled my ankle while walking down the stairs after cramming in six office hours late Sunday night. I couldn’t yelp, swear or scream – knocked me breathless with pain. Frustrating. Just a fraction of a second and BLAM!!! Birds are twittering around my head and a tight-lipped sheepish and pissed-off grin is carved into my face.
POOP!
Speaking of poop – Jake, Ali and I enjoyed a poop spotting spree Saturday afternoon while hiking “my” mountain. We spotted elk, moose, rabbit, marmot, bear and deer poop but Jake doesn't think we should count the deer poop 'cuz it is too common – the debate is unsettled on whether bunny poop counts. We spent most of our time creating in my studio. Jake set his alarm for 6:20 a.m. as I tucked them in with cuddles into the cozy beds at the studio nap room for the night. He wanted to get an extra early start in the studio Sunday morning. Precious!
Life is full of unexpected twists. I have worked for months on this 2000 pound log, envisioned the carved horse a deep rich black color but realized when I applied a clear coat of conditioner on the wood before staining the horse; black would be a mistake. I thought I knew two things before I began applying color to the sculpture – the color of the horse and the color of the niche but I was wrong.
Thankfully I was paying attention and accidently discovered the right color before mixing up a dark stain. I can’t imagine what bit of goodness the accident on the stairs brought me but perhaps I am meant to spend the weekend in the studio instead of the rock climbing trip I planned. Twists, turns and an interesting variety of poop contribute to the life I lead.
