Everything in the world is like the rolling churning weather,
clouds swiftly moving and reshaping.
4:48 pm.
We’re “sheltering in” at the hermitage in a war against corona virus,
surreal times, I don’t have words.
4:58 pm.
I am worried for everybody, and feeling fidgety and nervous. Even knitting is difficult. I had hoped to launch into something ultra designerly, but instead I’ve spent two days patching threadbare clothes, hand-stitching, reinforcing shredded edges, and being ridiculously old-fashioned, and I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. This too shall pass.
♥ ♥ ♥
Thank you everybody who left comment in the previous post Emma Was,
I have been trekking the mountain with knitting bag and baby steps (again). There is no denying that to me the genius of the place is in the landscape’s past. A time not long ago which is so impressed by once indigenous people who lived here, and who are so close in time relative to the existence of humans, that I nearly feel their presence like a faint breeze tickling the hairs on the back of my neck.
Then let me be blown through with the breezes of the past, feeling the presence of those who’s arrowheads I have found several of, and I will find my way with wool instead of water plants of the banks of the tidal Napa River.
Wool to make a sturdy practical thing. Inspired by the local tribes which wandered Northern California ~~ the Wappo, Pomo and Lake Miwok have walked over the very saddle of the ridge and rested quite possibly where our house now stands, in the shade among Redwoods, Douglas Firs, and many species of Oaks. Two of three arrowheads I have found, I have posted on two occasions here and here.
felted in two cycles of a hot wash in machine
It is said that the Mayacamas mountain range where I live was named by the Wappo tribe “Maiya’ kma” said to mean “howling mountain lion”. I live close to the border on the map between the Southern Wappo and the Pomo, and near the Miwok too, where the black glass obsidian volcanic rock comes from to make the arrowheads. As I walk the contours of the mountain over the years I have come to understand the paths a bit, how the animal traffic goes, where the old roads that have grown over are, how the watershed goes and up at the top how the rock cuts up through the soil like teeth. Up there you can look to the east and see Napa Valley or to the west and see Sonoma Valley.
The wildfire that came through here two years ago has created a lot of mess with the trees, but in a blink it will again be as before. I must be patient through the seasons, and understand the mountain as these hunter-gatherer, epic trekkers, & basket weavers did. Anyway, I am happy to be finding my way through the new bag designs, and the pattern is written, so soon will I be finished!
See all posts with new projects of Maiya’ kma bags & baskets HERE.
Hey, I just found another authentic Native American arrowhead ! About two hours ago I was just setting out for a little stroll and I found this on the side of the road, right beside our tiny house. Last Autumn there was some road work which moved the earth a bit, and this was right next to a fir tree, which are known to unearth such things in their growth habit of pushing up the soil. It is not complete, only a little over an inch, with the tip and shaft broken off, as most “used” arrowheads are when found.
This is actually the second arrowhead I have found near our house, the first which I found and posted way back in 2011 which was a spectacular specimen, although sadly our collection was lost to the wildfire. I must say, very close to our house, Jeff and I have found three, one of which was a large 3″ spear head. There is no doubt to me that the lives of those indigenous people are superimposed in the present, just a blink away in time, as I often feel an ancient past around me, a sort of innate sensitivity to the wild I suppose.
Click 1st image in mosaic and go to slideshow of the discovery…
Its the last days of summer, finally. I thought I’d never get through them.
The Autumn Equinox is near, and I thought I’d enjoy a nice afternoon walk up the ridge and take some photos of the landscape in the waning summer.
Wild peas continuing to bloom unusually late…
As I got higher up the ridge where the bad burn is,
I notice so many sprouted trees, as this baby knob cone pine, about 8 inches tall …
Sprouted right beneath the scorched parent tree, full of pine cones….
In a blink it will be the Autumnal Equinox , only four days! Knowing I am near to being in a far better place mentally with the anniversary of the wildfire so soon to pass, I am so very eager to be grateful again and excited about life’s good things.
I am soon to land feet down in ash and soot, after floating and free-falling for what seems a lost number of days. Not much needs to be said as the media has been pelting the airspace relentlessly since it all begun, and my perspective on the wildfire situation here in the blazing counties is only another shadowy narration of it. It is immense and I am going to ignore it for now, and try my hardest to not look backwards.
Jeff, Emma and I are in a calm and safe place, and unharmed. The future is all I can bear to ponder right now, perhaps a new routine living in a trailer as we clean up the black coat which will be sticky and heart-wrenching, or simply sweeping up ashes… I do not yet know. I dream now of freshness, of sun streaming in through windows on the mountain’s rugged landscape, and I am willing to accept whatever it looks like, as a loved one who has been injured, I will care for it tenderly, when the time comes soon that we will be allowed to revisit our property and see the aftermath. I crave to thrive, and create, to tap into that effervescent well spring within myself. I want to be there now, I am ready, but I am having to be patient for the scale of the situation involves many thousands of folk just as I am, reluctantly separated and in limbo hoping for anything better than the worst.
For me that would be living in a trailer if I must, and once again walking in the wild places, along those trails that I share with the wildlife, and to scribble the day’s chores on my chalkboard and pace myself through them, never again begrudgingly! ((Oh, and a belated happy birthday Michele, sending you a card was the one important thing I had written on my chalkboard as I left the house, and never got to it!))
Edit in: Friends , I am posting progress of the situation in comments below, where you can be informed of my personal fire news, until I post again. xxJen
