“Who knows, maybe the root is the flower from that other life.” Mary Oliver
Being an artist is sometimes like having an endless smorgasbord of inspiration and ideas. I try to tend to it. I never take it for granted. I like to share regularly. Most days I can’t help noticing the density of life around me, the lushness of sight and sound, making note, taking shots with the camera, cataloging and processing in darkness and silence.New work can emerge from playful splashing in muddy puddles – in the garden, in the palette or the dye pot.
Like the germinating Japanese indigo seeds in my kitchen window that warm and incubate, imagination simmers, distills, materializes.
Even my seedlings enjoy a view of the mountains.
Some pods birth today. Others will relish the soil a bit longer before promise turns green with fuchsia stems.
How will I tend to the seeds of imagination today?
Piles of raw eco-printed paper-mordanting 
Raw Material
Turned into something
Done or not-so-done.
Making sun tea. Or rose dye from the wabi-sabi petals.
Marks on paper, paint, pencil, stencil?
Over leaf impressions
Straight to paper
Plotting for the “Roy-B-Giv Game.” with Jennifer and Julie. A hint… 
Tutu’s on the brain.
Tree climbing tutu.
Digging with bare hands into the microbes of well-balanced soil.
Reading: The Alphabet of Trees 
Rearranging the furniture to make more room for the creative mess.
Finishing some stitching from “yesterday’s” bits and starts.
And stitching and stitching.
It must tell me “done.” 
Let the floss bin spill thread formations in perfect bends and turns.
Fabric wisps blowing into position.
Looking at friends projects on the internet – stirring my duende.
Going to work at the little quilt shop up the road. 
Pleased and pressed to celebrate lots of babies with sewn confections of another sort. 
Binding, binding, binding, Thimbles aren’t enough to save my fingers this week.
Some things never change: Birds, feathers, houses rear in abundance.
Minor mechanical malfunctions: resolved.
Making a list.
Trying to find meaning.
“Who knows, maybe the root is the flower from that other life.” Mary Oliver
Ideas in Cloth 