Jean-Claude, so named for his beret; plays with shadow and warm sun for a penguin impersonation, followed by a little wall walking.
Long ago abandoned, an old school bus shelter at the bottom of the hill creeps down-slope; haunted by root tendrils, vines and an ever growing carpet of thick squishy moss.
Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos the ever vigilant farm geese step out into a welcome sun to see what the world may have in store, leaving lengthening autumn shadows to their play.
I’m beginning to agree with farm life (why should I expect it to agree with me?) and starting to have a good time of it. Posting from a new abode considerably more “luxurious” than any I’ve known in a long time; I’m warm, dry and connected again. It seems that all of my previous occupations have simply been preparation for being able to fix, build, labor, landscape and navigate the myriad needs of living a near homesteading life. But then, the rainy season hasn’t really started yet…
Momentous happenings. Migration inland up one of the small coastal rivers here on the Central Oregon Coast has landed me high on a ridge in the coastal mountains, significant neighbors include elk, ravens and bears; sweetgrass and clean water. Also a lot of work… woods work and farm labor, life is good. Better than good. A lot going on right now, and a half hour drive to the nearest internet connection, but trust my desire to share the wonders that Providence and Grace have given. I’ll be back… Blessings and Balance for All
Nodding in the morning sun, a head full with maturing seeds of thought; an old sun reminisces upon a life of adventure. From origins in a vast field surviving climate, birds and insects; his birth seed went on to endure threshing, bagging and transport to market with the fate of becoming bird feed. Lost in a mix of millet and thistle and unceremoniously poured into a feeder, it escaped the mad milling of grosbeak hordes and the ground gleaning of redwing blackbirds. Swept up in a whirring vacuum of lawn mower blades and dumped over a bank onto the compost pile, Sonny at last took root to watch the river flow and manifest his destiny. Mindful of the chickadees and nuthatches who have already begun to take notice of his burgeoning bounty he nonetheless smiles away the days; trusting the following spring will see at least one little sprout emerge somewhere, someplace to shine on…
A popular pastime for beachgoers is creating rock stacks, often in groups and in anthropomorphic forms. Appearing as coastwatchers, they remain behind connecting their makers with a view to sea.
In a sheltered corner tucked under the bluffs a contemplative sojourner marked the four winds, signifying their mutual flight.
Pelican feather, rock and a piece of driftwood with a knothole come together creating a kinetic sculpture marking mine own wanderings along the coast. Musing upon these visions at the workbench produce two pieces combining wood, stone, cedar bark cord and glass net floats.
Flip, float or fly… a return outing to give thanks for the perpetual gifts and inspirations of the sea.
Heading to the sea edge on a minus tide I follow the tracery of creatures left dry by the receding waters, bewildered snails and a trudging crab tell their tales.
In a corner among the rocky fingers a pair of red rock crabs hunker in the sand hoping to avoid notice, some aren’t so fortunate…
Not as fortunate as I. Finding this large Dungeness crab not quite hidden under a weed covered rock, it went into the pack for future consideration as an omelet.
As the day warmed I happened across a trio of odd rocky crustaceans who fearlessly ran me off, impervious to beaks, teeth and sunshine.
At the end of the day “Archie” cradles his treasure, an old glass net float which I’ll admit I found on a fellow market vendors table sometime ago and am learning the knot-work required to put them back into use…
Up on a coastal hill a solitary stump remains, awaiting regrowth of a forest it once an upstanding citizen was. Itinerant chainsaw artists appear to have tried occasionally gnawing it into something its ruinous ruminations had inspired, finally putting an old hat on the boy and leaving him to weather out on his own.
Down at sea level a red rock crab miscalculated the low tide. Following steady scrabbling tracks across the sand led to it keeping a low profile in the thin flow of water, hoping to avoid the notice of passing otters and seabirds.
Tracking a trio of otters along the beach I find where one had detoured to a windblown dune for a quick slide. Alongside it was the tracks of a smallish rodent which tried unsuccessfully to achieve the same easy grace; scampering up alongside and by the tracks appeared to have more tumbled down than slid.
Stopping by the Otter Cafe with hopes of a nice crab puff pastry; but they were closed on Mondays and instead took the loaded pack of beach bounty off for a respite before heading up the bluff.
Time and tide align later this morning for a long awaited expedition to a mystical sea grotto where I expect to find a giant agate. Donning wet suit and snorkel for immersion into the chilly ocean I’m summoning up the courage to go where no beachnik has gone before. As is usually the case, I’ll find something other than what I’m looking for…
Happily creating creatures from the bits and pieces of sea gift, I’m flowing into a pattern of homework and taking my wares to market, where I find even greater treasures among the market visitors. Customers, curiosity and critics (all equally valued); and best of all the acceptance, camaraderie and community of fellow farmers and artists.
You may recollect Beryl and Jasper, the couple at the corner table; they’ve had their noses to the grindstone and now it’s time to rock on down Yachats way for the 4th of July. Flame of liberty lit, they’re off to paint the town.
The Grand Marshall had some concerns about everyone being in step, but when you’re this happy and colorful it hardly matters!
The participants seemed to be having way more fun than the spectator.
Wow, a month since my last post! I’ve become completely immersed in producing, exhibiting and happily selling my art in the local Farmers Markets. Working it fulltime, overtime and all the time; maintaining an inventory and a presentable display affords little time here at the keyboard, photography as well has taken a backseat. Here’s a collection of photos depicting some recent creations and the wonderful venue of the regional markets here in Oregon. Out of consideration for the personal privacy of others I’ve avoided most scenes of the busy people and fine goods at the Markets… and I’m attempting to keep the size of my carbon footprint within reason. It takes a lot of energy to super-cool the supercomputers housing all that collected cyber-data… I’m betting they won’t be the first things to be unplugged in the event of a power shortage…
Jacques has his basket and a jaunty beret…
Ludwig von Heron makes his debut…
A gourmet Key Lime Pie cupcake tempts Yoga Bear, while Calypso the Buoy Belle has a wait and see look about her.
Something for everyone, including a little romance and time to catch up on the latest Louis L’amour novel.
A whimsical representation of Admiral Poindexter as he might appear in the bowels of the Pentagon, ready to gobble all the cyber-bits he can…
A beehive cactus awaits the early brief showers of June in the high deserts of New Mexico, slowly building flower buds in anticipation of the right warm rain.
Ranging from the smallest marble to rarely a softball in size, they are easily overlooked and often underfoot, my cactus patch became home for various “rescue” cactii, at risk from flash floods and other natural and man-made hazards.
An overnight shower at a nice warmth, and the flowers unfold into the bright mountain sunlight. Lasting a day or three at most the bright sweet blooms attract hummingbirds, bees and every flying pollinator in the neighborhood.
Things are heating up and folks are getting out and about… updates on the ‘look about‘ page and ‘state of the art‘. It’s National Trails Day, and I’m off to help at the dedication of a new trail section in Yachats….. happy trails!
The ouzels are still at the waterfall where this photo was taken back in March… my guess they’re nesting there seems to be accurate… Plans are for a return visit when the evening light is right.
Oystercatchers dash about in the skim water of receding waves, and race the froth ahead of the next.
A traveler checks out the sights along “The 101″, Oregon’s Coast Highway, and the guillemots are still trying to get the steps down…
6/2/201… Correction: Initially misidentified; the above photo is of a local resident, checking out the tourists.
Stopping in Waldport you’ll find me getting in step at the Wednesday and Saturday Markets; and on Sundays a few miles south down Hwy. 101 for the Yachats Farmers Market… see ya around!
The full moon drew low tides out far enough to allow access to offshore rocks where the neighborhood guillemots gather.
Found on a favored perch over a narrow channel through the lava formations; they were engaged in a pattern of flying out to alight in the ocean just beyond the surf line, then returning to the same gathering spot about every 20 minutes.
The red legs are in striking contrast to the formal black and white of their attire.
They sit at ease on the ragged basalt much more comfortably than I, by now my legs are going to sleep from rock pinched nerves.
The interior of the mouth is the same scarlet hue as their feet. A soft high pitched “creeet” barely loud enough to be heard above the noise of the surf is all that emits as they hold their confab.