Two finches tangle, bound together by a filament of air, tying knots in the wind.
New growth clatters under my glove, springs. Silver branches shimmer before a white sun.
Weight of a thought on my tongue.
On a path to the forest, wood chips rattle. Here, on the outside, brittle.
This part of the wood where the dead trees are. Bracken rises. Listen. The old ones creak. The water seeps. Wetland covers the forest floor, blackish. Rises. Listen.
Ebb and flow of rhythm. The colour of the music.
Motion in space with the music. Not dancing; crouching. How my arms wield paint, syringe.
Clumsy fingers. Cold hands. My wrists still numb when I write.
Grasses in the marsh, light gold with an undercoat of steel. Blond fur on the earth. This morning, no red in the grass, no blue in the water. The sky is white overhead.
A gull flies away from me, chased by the wind. Slopes with the wind. At certain angles, when its wings are parallel to my vision, nothing appears but a dot that is its body. Then it flies behind a cloud and the dot is no more.
Shoulder high grass, a finer kind. Run my hand along the top of it: wiry and thin as horse’s tail.
A woman in yellow, dancing. Her narrow hands, dancing. Her eyes, dancing. Her calves and her toes, dancing. Each part of her body participant in motion, then still. Anticipation. Restraint. Calm before a storm-burst, her euphoria.
Six women, dancing. The strength and grace of archers. Purpose in their eyes and in the weight of their heads, held back on delicate necks. Warriors. Weight shifts forward to bent knees; hold. Spring back, hind legs ready to receive. Hold. Turn, together. Intention in their wrists and in their ankles, grace in their power, power in their poise.
A feeling of yearning: a pull, a pulse, a flutter.
Sumac curtsy away from houses, their bases inches from the brick. Who planted trees so close to walls? Scaled trunks bend away and double back, one limb forward, one behind in a flourish. Some decline to curtsy and lean only outward. Tethered with rope to balconies, they are caught as if in flight. Are trees, then, birds in slow motion?
A woodpecker no larger than my hand, peering at me from the far side of an elm trunk. His beak a needle.
The sun’s reflection caught in the overturned cup of a bridge’s arch. Reflection larger, more brilliant than its parent. Lamp post centered before all. Lantern, you are not the light.
A blackbird on a yellow reed, bent down by the bird’s weight. The bird had a red dash on its shoulder and was larger than I expected it to be.
A man running with a boy on a bike. The boy was small and wore a helmet ridged with green dragon scales down the center. The man had fleshy lips and curly black hair, going grey. On the down slopes the boy pulled ahead while the man sprinted to keep up. On the uphills, he gained on the boy. Up hill and down, slower and faster, they wove their way along the path ahead of me until I lost sight of them.
Nibs of tender new grass, turning the forest floor bright green where the sun shines.
Parents running with their children. At first it was rare and mostly with teenagers, but there are eight- and nine-year-olds jogging like any seasoned runner now that the days are fine.
In the right light, the reeds around the marshes look red.
A few weeks ago I posted these Essentials Cases, made for a How To’s Day DIY from Camelot Fabrics’ Mixology line. Putting the whole tutorial together was such a breeze that it left me with an itch to make more essentials cases, starting with one in oilcloth for my studio tools. I’ve beenusing the same maroon pencil case since I was about twelve – it was ugly then, and it’s even worse after a decade and a half of use, to the point where I couldn’t cast my eye over my work table without snagging on that drab, indestructible pouch.
So, shortly after publishing my Essentials Cases, I conquered my resistance to throwing something out while it was still entirely functional, and I jetted that maroon case in favour of a white & gold M/M pouch. Here’s the rationalization: my new one is homemade, so it’s totally okay to throw out the old one. Right? Right. On to the specs!
for • my studio essentials
from • about 1/4 yd of gold-dotted oilcloth (18″ wide) from Camelot Fabrics
notions • 7″ closed-end zipper
alterations • oilcloth instead of fused cotton | all one fabric, instead of having contrasting ends.
make it again? • I’m absolutely making the flat version of this case as a travel pouch, to replace the ugly striped canvas one I’m currently using. I think see a trend forming here …
Made by Marion 