Woodcut print from a photo of a window at Spannocchia, near Siena, Italy. I am still reworking this one. I’ll change the areas on the sides of the window and probably do a multicolor print.

In this woodcut print I was experimenting with raising the natural grain in the background by rubbing between the lines of the grain. I did a lot of these and feel rather ambivalent about the results.

I learned a lot from these two.

Ever since I was a child I have been fascinated with stories of living off the land, self-sufficiency, making things from scratch. Then I hit puberty and I was distracted by trying to find a mate, drowning my depression and anxiety in alcohol, and trying to make my parents proud of me by attempting to be like other people. I never could achieve the third one because it just wasn’t in me to conform.

Recently I talked with an old high school buddy who laughed that I always had to be doing something different. I thought a lot about that. It’s true. I had to be an actress, not a writer or an artist, where my real creative talents lay. Not only that, I had to be a mime for a while.

Then I couldn’t knit or crochet or needlepoint, something that you could take with you and that everyone was familiar with. No, I had to be a weaver. Not only that, I had to be a tapestry weaver or do complicated dye techniques.

I couldn’t just throw a pot. I had to hand-build and make pinch pots while meditating and drawing the energy up from the earth. I considered digging my own clay, but I stopped doing ceramics because my hands couldn’t take it.

I have gathered loads of vines, stalks, twigs and cattails. I have handwoven baskets all over the place. It wouldn’t do to buy a basket. I make my own hats.

Now I can’t be a painter. I have to be a printmaker. I have to do woodcuts. Because, think about it. How many woodcut artists are there out there? Will I start chopping down my own trees soon?

I’m making books, but I’m not satisfied to buy paper for the pages. Even fancy handmade paper. I have to make my paper myself, and gather the fibers myself. And grow the fibers myself.

It amazes me that I never decided to raise sheep or grow flax and cotton because it wasn’t enough for me just to weave, I had to raise and spin the fiber. If I hadn’t been humiliated in costume shop, I’d probably be sewing all my own clothes.

Believe it or not, it is so obvious that I had to be different, but it never really struck me how much until my friend said that.

One way I am different is that I chose to be childless. Anyone who has made this choice for whatever reason can tell you that you are pretty much suspect among “normal” society. Most people assume that you don’t have children because you can’t. Which is fine, because it’s just not something that I’d ever have even thought twice about, so I don’t care what opinions folks form of my childlessness. I assume that it makes no difference to them either. Except as I got older, I slowly learned that to some people, it colors their opinion of you in a negative way. One way you can tell is that they will start telling you how it’s okay for you not to be a parent. But I never considered that it would not be okay for me not to be a parent.

Well, here I am, 48 years old, not many eggs left in the old uterus. I’ll be happy when that last one is gone, let me tell you. And I am happy, so happy, that I don’t have to pretend to enjoy being a mother the way that my mother did, or deal with totally fucked up grown children who can’t take care of themselves. Or experience the loss of a child, since I can barely deal with the loss of a cat. Guess what, I get to be selfish, because I didn’t have children. Yes, I do.

So I’ve decided to throw my heart to the winds and travel as much as I can. No storing up acorns for me. I’m going to be the grasshopper, not the ant. I had a beautiful, wise young friend who went to bed happy and healthy one night and didn’t live to see the sun come up. My friend John did everything right and was struck down in a flash by a rare disease. Yes, by God, I’m going to suck the marrow out of life and not die and discover that I had not lived.

I like being different. And guess what else? I don’t think that I’m going to cook for the foreseeable future. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of housecleaning too. Let the rooms fill halfway to the ceiling with cat hair.

My car won’t start. But I don’t need it. I don’t think that I’ll fix it. I’ll get some baskets for my bike and ride the bus and catch rides. I’ll drive the Honda on the weekend and on long trips. We don’t need two cars.

I’ll keep working because I need to pay bills and pay for my travel expenses. And art supplies. And good coffee. And beer. And books.

I’m going to be a free spirit. Because I can.

I hope that this won’t be a wasted day. I developed a migraine last night and I’m just now getting up. I drank my first little pot of coffee and I’m beginning a second. I’m afraid that this will come in clusters, as they do occasionally.

So the computer is probably not the best place for me. I did have very creative dreams once I got to sleep this morning. I’ll have some lunch and go out to the studio to weave and I have some ideas for mica-covered books to sell, if I can ever get this store up and running. I’m pretty frustrated at this point and almost out of patience, because I can’t stand being ignored. If you can’t solve a problem right away, you should at least acknowledge receipt of the message.

I talked one of my many friends named Deb last night, and we discussed Slow Food and going back to Spannocchia next year. I think that she will go with Susanne’s trip. It’s hard to choose because I have two friends going back to Tuscany next year and both would be fun to go with, but I’m sure I’d go with Susanne if Deb will go with me. We talked about collaborating on a book - her watercolors and poetry and calligraphy and my binding. It made me feel very hopeful that the trip might happen.

Miss Jazz is having all kind of hissy fits for attention and making it hard to blog, so I guess that means it’s time to get on with my day.

All alone, boo hoo hoo.

Actually I love being all alone. I’m a solitary kind of gal, especially since I became my own best friend. I get to hang out with Sandy on Saturday and Sunday, and that’s good because by the time I get to the end of the week I miss him.

Right now I’m frustrated because I decided to open an online store, not on Etsy, that I’ve paid for and the admins over there are either not getting my emails or are having trouble figuring out why my store is disabled and not responding. I’m irritated because tonight is the perfect night for me to concentrate on it and get it set up, photos uploaded, all that stuff. After tonight, I’ll be really busy again.

I have an Etsy store set up, but I’ve never listed anything and thought that this looked like a good deal. If it isn’t straightened out soon, I guess I’ll ask for my money back and go with Etsy. I want to sell my beaded jewelry from my pre-bifocal days and scarves and books and whatnot to try to make my hobbies somewhat pay for themselves, if possible.

I’ll let you know what happens either way. It’s been fun looking through these artist Ning sites; another addictive Internet thing to distract me from real life!

By the way, if you’ve heard about my place of employment laying off lots of folks, the news is a bit overblown. Don’t worry about me, we heard that staff in our department were safe. For next year, at least!

Guess I’ll go do something constructive now.

Dr. Justin starts a food blog…I was sorry that I missed his fabled cuisine when he lived here. I was grateful to have someone really adventurous to eat sushi with at lunch! Now he’s in Oxford, Miss and always talking about going to Nawlins. Expect some twisted humor and snark, if he shows his true self.

The thing about university art classes is that you have to accept that you’re going to be told to do certain things to improve your work that you might not agree with. If everything you do is just hunky-dory, you may as well work on your own at home.

I’m struggling just a little with a woodcut that I’m doing of a window at Spannocchia. In the photo that I took, the viewer is looking out a deep window from a very dark, very old hallway into a very bright, sun-splashed space that has stones and bricks and a tool of some kind - maybe a stirrup hoe. The problem is the dark hallway.

The funny thing is that the part that bothers me doesn’t bother the instructor, and the part that bothers him doesn’t bother me.

Anyway, I thought that I was going to print that puppy tonight but it will have to wait a few days at least.

After work today, I planted broccoli seedings - De Ciccio and a mix that I bought from Fedco that is supposed to produce heads at different times. Also I put in the ruby chard and half of the golden chard seedlings, and black seeded Simpson and buttercrunch lettuce seedlings. Peas and potatoes are beginning to come up. The greens under the maple tree are doing okay but the kale under the oak tree not so much. I think that it is much drier in the back, so I gave everything a good soaking before our next rain is expected on Wednesday night and Thursday.

I spent a good part of yesterday on general clean-up and mulching. I think that I’m going to cut back the rosemary severely and dig up a bunch of flowers that are a little too gung-ho as well. I need to fertilize with compost and bloodmeal too.

This is my favorite time of year. I’m tired, but it is such a good tired, and my hip is healing.

I liked this quiz that I found on Facebook and would love to see other answers to it. I’m not into tagging people, but if you decide to post your answers, please leave me a comment so that I can read them!

1. What was the last book you bought?

I pick up most of my books for free these days, but I think that the last book I bought was Artist Journals and Sketchbooks by Lynne Perella, used at Ed McKay’s, which I have thoroughly enjoyed EXCEPT for the fact that the previous owner was a smoker so I can only take a little at a time. If I’d noticed I would have put it back on the shelf and waited for a clean copy. But I got excited and grabbed it.

2. Name a book you have read MORE than once.

1. The Bible (With my parents, I was very close to being a preacher’s kid)
2. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (When I was a child I finished the last page and flipped back to the beginning to start it again, but I’m not obsessive. Oh no.)
3. Catch 22 (I didn’t quite get it in Governor’s School and appreciated it much more as an adult)
4. The Sound and the Fury (see number #3)
5. Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh
6. Fair and Tender Ladies by Lee Smith

3. Has a book ever fundamentally changed the way you see life?

I think that Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was the first book that woke me out of my lethargy and convinced me that whatever I did was worth doing well. (I’m not sure that I believe that about EVERYthing I do now, but I still appreciate the philosophy.) Another was Voluntary Simplicity by Duane Elgin, which introduced me to the simple living movement and guided me to change my priorities in life. Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hahn taught me about mindfulness. And Michael Pollan’s Botany of Desire changed the way I look at the relationships of plants and humans.

4. How do you choose a book? e.g. by cover design and summary, recommendations or reviews?

I have a love affair with Amazon. I wish that I didn’t! I look at the reviews and flip through the online page samples. I follow up on recommendations obsessively, if it is a recommender that I respect and admire. I buy too many books and that’s why I drive a 92 Tercel.

5. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction?

I read a lot of art and craft books these days, but I prefer to go to bed with a novel or book of short stories.

6. What’s more important in a novel - beautiful writing or a gripping plot?

I love Annie Dillard and Anne Lamott and Wendell Berry because even when the plot is thin, I eat up their words like candy. But I do like a good plot too.

7. Most loved/memorable character (character/book).

Gus McRae from Lonesome Dove. Bilbo Baggins from the Hobbit. Burley Coulter from the Port William Membership stories and novels by Wendell Berry.

8. Which book or books can be found on your nightstand/coffee table at the moment?

*Bedside table: The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox. A pseudo-Victorian murder story.

*Coffee Table: Andy Goldsworthy and Time by Andy Goldsworthy. My favorite artist.

8. What was the last book you read, and when was it?

Andy Catlett: Early Travels by Wendell Berry. Finished it Tuesday night.

9. Have you ever given up on a book halfway in?

Yes. The last one was The Lady in the Palazzo by Marlena di Blasi. Quite frankly, I think that her photo put me off, because I enjoyed the first two books. Suddenly the whole story seemed overblown and pretentious when I looked at her lipstick.

10. Can you recommend a good book to me? If so, what is it?

Nonfiction: The Botany of Desire and The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan are both entertaining and non-preachy books on food. In the same food vein, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. For writers or dreamers of being a writer: Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. Fiction: Jayber Crow and The Memory of Old Jack by Wendell Berry. In between: anything by David Sedaris. Howlingly funny, and not for sensitive sorts or homophobes.

11. Is there a book you haven’t read, and should have?

I’m determined to read Moby Dick soon, after reading Ahab’s Wife this summer. Also, I picked up a hard copy of War and Peace for free, and one day I’ll tackle it. I got behind on my contemporary fiction reading when I was in grad school, and have a lot of catching up to do there.

Today has been very pleasantly busy. It’s not often that I don’t turn on the computer until late afternoon!

It began early this morning when I picked up the Fabulous Zha K on our way to Carrboro (siamese twin sister city of Chapel Hill) to buy some compost bins at a fabulously low price. I believe that it was arranged by the municipality of Carrboro, and the sale was out of a big truck in a Park and Ride lot. They ordered 1000 and sold them for $40 each, with optional turners and kitchen bins. From the line we were in I bet that they sold them all.

Anyway, when we got there, I called my sister on my rarely used cell phone to let her know about it. She and her husband were nearby in her car, and she didn’t want a bin but we all went to breakfast and then to a small farmer’s market in a Walmart shopping center outside of Hillsborough. It was nice for one reason because I’ve told Lisa and Tim all about ZK and vice versa, so they finally got to meet my fabulous friend, and she got to meet a terrific sister and brother-in-law.

The farmer’s market was small but very high quality. I think that it was their first time setting up in this new location on Hwy 86 near I-85. There were several meat and poultry farmers, all pastured/free-range and/or organic, a great cheesemaker, several bakers, herbal folks and other craftspeople. I bought pork chops from Caswell County Organics, and I didn’t get the names of the other vendors, unfortunately. The cheese was named Durham Blu and was a Italian Taleggio style cheese that had sharpened a bit from her normal cheese. I bought some whole wheat/rye sourdough bread and a bar of goat milk soap, tasted samples, and petted a chicken. That’s right. I petted a CHICKEN. There were witnesses.

I came home to re-sign all the refinancing paperwork again, which would have irritated the snot out of me except that they offered to give us $200 back to make up for the inconvenience of signing my name for 30 minutes in my own home. That was worth it.

Then I set up the composting bin and shoveled about half of my pile into it. The bottom half of the pile looks like it’s ready to put out in the garden beds. So if you are one of my friends that donates scraps to my compost pile, please put it in the black plastic bin from now on.

Thanks to a very generous and kind reader, I now have some solar lighting in the Back Forty! I have four staked lights to mark the path to the studio door, and a string of white Christmas lights that I’m going to hang around the gazebo. This is something that I’ve been wanting for some time, so thank you very much, Meadowlark!

The seckel pear tree is flowering for the first time. The Korean Giant asian pear appears to be dead. This was not a big surprise because I knew that I didn’t water it enough during the drought. Fortunately, I found that seckel pears are self-pollinating. The cherry bushes and the Yoshina ornamental cherries are blooming too. Most of the greens are still alive, and asparagus spears are beginning to emerge. Can’t harvest those until next spring. It will be hard to wait! Violetto artichokes are coming back too.

It’s been a very good week. I’m very happy right now.

About 15 minutes ago I was snuggled under the covers, half-asleep, with a copy of a Wendell Berry novel, when I heard a voice yell “Stop where you are! Stop where you are! Don’t move!” At first I thought it must be something on the Internet in the next room but it was too loud. I shouted to Sandy that I thought the police were in our back yard, and sure enough, a young policeman had tackled a man right in the middle of the yard and was trying to call in for help. We turned on the lights and in a few minutes there were policemen looking through the Back Forty to see if the man had thrown anything back there. I’m amazed that no one fell in my next-door neighbor’s basement, because the opening to it is wide open there in the dark.

About eight officers were out on the street where they had arrested and put the man in a car. He was yelling and cussing and making strange animal-like noises and thrashing about and generally not being very cooperative. I called out to the group and said, “Could someone tell me what happened? I’m just curious!”

The policeman who chased and caught the guy came up to the porch and told me that he was a suspect for larceny at UNCG and that he had chased him from the next street over. You could see that the policeman was happy and pumped full of adrenalin. “Your lights really helped. I dropped my flashlight chasing him.”

“You did a great job,” I said.

“Thank you!” He flashed me a big smile and walked out to the street. A minute later, the blue lights were gone, the crowd had dispersed, and it was a quiet street again.

This is the third time a policeman has caught someone in my yard (not at this house) and the first time anyone has explained it, so I was grateful for that! And even though I know that he would have been fine without us, I still feel like we were a part of it. Woo-hoo!