This Blog is a'movin!

Just as time and people and places

in the jump of spring and in the nature of growth....

I've decided, humbly, to leave my beloved blogger

and publish words and photos directly from my website.

It's been a long road, Blogger and I.

Nearly 5 years of learning the ropes as an artist and writer and blog-newbie. 

Some of these posts from years past bring back up fearsome growing pains

reminiscent of early days and painful lessons,

some of beautiful exploration and hopeful newness.

And there is nothing more lovely than humble beginnings. 

It hurts me a little to close this door, so I've decided....

This blog will continue to stay open as Archives, 

available for exploration,

But, my friends, It is time to move forward.

I will be HERE from now on...

and you can watch me evolve from this path to my new one. 

Come on over!

Join me!

XO Erin

Spring River Rhythm

Ah the pull of a springtime river trip.

A clearly magnetic nagging of road-warrior-fever and fish not yet caught.

April has a way of doing that. 

It was 70 degrees in short sleeves all week.

Ramen noodles out of the back of our pickup truck.

Boxed wine and cheap beer under the stars.

Frosty mornings and slow hikes to higher places.

Out of breath and out of shape. 

Hot springs.

Sunshine in high elevations and the fresh morning smell of river.

There's something magnetic about river trips in the start of a season.

The dusting off of oars, the rustling of lifejackets and coolers, the un-burying of gear.

Regrouping our boat took some time,

and swinging into late steelhead season was a little later than us fisher-folk would have liked.

As we DID get skunked this time around.

But in the spirit of springtime Steelhead runs and budding Idaho high country...

It's all a Rebirth.

We found ourself late to the river, and late off the river, 

neither in a hurry nor worried much about the sinking sun and dropping evening temperatures.

Idaho's springtime is hot days and cold nights.

As extreme as the landscape, and nearly as breathtaking.

I couldn't help but continue to think, 

through the week of soggy neoprene waders and thick ski socks, 

the near-green salmon water swirling all around me,

fly-line snapping over my head in a rhythm

much like the circadian rhythms that took over my senses.....

Eat when you're hungry. Stop when you're tired.

Sleep when you're cold. 

This is a great way to kick off the cocoon of winter and embrace outside once again.

Flash Sale!

Not every day is it the first day of spring, a new moon, aaaaaaand a solar eclipse!

Seemed appropriate to jump in on that alignment 

and offer something lovely for your first days of spring!

Code good through Monday.

Much love to you.

I'm out of the studio today to look for signs of spring!

I can smell the season changing.....

xo Erin

On the fringes

We're on the fringe of seasons here.

Our Vernal Equinox is around the corner,

and there's not a person in NW Montana that doesn't feel the itch of spring.

 Days here get caught between sunbeams,

the deafening gray of the dead winter season

and bitter blasts of cold winds.

Some from the Western coast.

Some from the Eastern plains. 

Overall, it's kinda *shit* for weather. 

The sun taunts us all.
Not in a *bully on the playground* way,
but something friendlier,
like a good tease from a dear friend.
Like chasing childhood crushes on the playground instead. 

This cycle, 

for me here in the most northern part of this state,

and certainly that of the lower 48,
(although I am sure the east coast this particular winter may beg to differ!)

is so stark and deliberate in comparison to other parts of the country.

I've lived in a lot of places before MT,

and I can't ever remember being so damn itchy for springtime.

I can't remember wanting my winter to fade faster.
I can't remember slowing down,
nearly stopping at a dead halt,
 for a good dose of vitamin D.

Winter to Spring to Summer to Fall,

it's the cycle of things.
No surprises here.
Like clockwork, I get itchy.
Every trip indoors seems stifling.
The only cure for this dis-ease
is sunshine and afternoon breeze on my all-too porcelain face.
I crave that heat. I NEED it.

And the swing of things,
winter to spring here,
 is usually

slow.

sleepy.

agonizing.

painful even.  

But patience always proves this to be 

an exciting endeavor....

A riotous change from ice

to something softer,

like the ground squishing underneath my boots,

paw prints and hoof and boot tracks

on what's left of our snow,

and into this fresh mud underneath.

At night, I dream about green things.
I dream about the garden that will be.
I dream of hot tea thawing cold noses
that soothe my itch for digging in the barely bare dirt.
Frozen solid, that dirt.
And I know.....
 This winter's not over yet.
But it feels good to pretend.
So I slip on another sweater and hope I won't need it later.

During the day, I can't help but feel sorry for the fluffy deer
who are inky-eyed from a colder-than-usual January...
scrambling from the creek behind our house
into a white background of bright light.
How blinding that must be.
How desperate they are to find something fresh.
Hungry and so very wild.
Bushy-tailed and alert.
Almost pissed that there's STILL nothing to eat
but detritus under the white blanket of February.
After four months of gray and no grass,
I swear I can hear their bellies growl,
And I watch one from our front porch
stand on her back two legs
as she reaches for our apple tree's last standing
gray and dry leaf.

I slither on the icy footpath back to my studio,
after the deer finds I am watching her,
and she high-tails it out of my sight.
I feel like cursing old man winter when I loose balance and catch myself,
plunging my hands into the snowbanks surrounding.
Dammit!

I crawl off the ice and back into the bungalito.
I nurse my pinky hand back into flesh-mode,
and thank goodness for indoor heat.
Sanctuary.

It seems we are all ready for even the flutter of spring shoots to nibble.
We are all a little inky-eyed this time of year.
Hungry for more.
Ready for change.

To the softer seasons, my friends.

We ARE on the fringes!

............

Fringe earrings pictured here will be included in a mini Shop update Tonight!
Rose quartz, Arizona Turquoise, Montana Agate and Lapis Lazuli.
...

In the dead of winter...

there's always bright light. 

............

Hawk Totems for 2015

A Talon. 

A ripping, tearing, torturous tool. 

For less advantaged fowl, 

this curved bit of claw is a murderous thing. 

Something feared and never forgotten. 

Something even the tiniest of field mice know to be true. 

But for a Raptor, 

Talons are POWER. 

Superiority. 

Supreme divinity. 

They are sufficiency and sustenance.

In most cases, 

Life or Death. 

It's the power and ferocity of this bird I've found to be magnetic at the start of this year. 

A year shiny with golden light, fierce competition, and with that...

a more critical and competitive eye. 

It's this life or death 

fight or flight

black and white

I feel compelled to lay down in silver and stone and story. 

It's this stark comparison I feel in my heart, 

in my business,

in my home, 

in my world.

It's a make or break year, folks.

Things are either going to take flight and soar,

or stay grounded and fight for a quick death.

That's how I feel about 2015. 

I don't know if it's warranted in my stars, 

or my horoscope, 

or my destiny.

But this year feels like a landmark.

A big ol' revolution around the sun.

A big year.

I've been hard at work to build this business a sustainable one,

and I hope to see 2015 go off into unknown and exciting territory,

That territory I know to be vast and expansive and wild.

Much like the expansive sky of our feared bird of prey. 

Something Montana surely has plenty of. 

Some of that freedom I crave.

Some of that fierceness I have, 

and have yet to harness. 

Some of that "I'm thirty now, so put on those big girl talons and kick some ass."

 I hope to remind myself a few things in this one revolution around the sun, 

because I'm not good on resolutions,

but this'll suffice:

Nothing worth having comes without sweat, blood and tears.

Nothing worth keeping comes without some letting go,

& Nothing stays the same. 

........................................................................................

Apparently, 

a little strength I feel is needed for this revolution around the sun, 

This 2015. 

I feel fierce and strong and ready.

I truly hope you feel the same, 

and if you don't, 

there's a few talons out there to help a girl out. 

SHOP UPDATE THURSDAY 1-29.

3pm Mountain Standard.

It's gonna be big & good one, folks.

Etsy Shop is found HERE. 

Fire and Hope

  

Last night the power went out.  

The jelly jars and my mother's old wine glasses were filled with tea lights and twinkle.

The house was warm with the help of our wood-fired stove, 

the *fancy* box of wine on the counter a helpful companion to pass the darkness.

J and I sat on the couch and counted our blessings.

We ate tacos in the dark,

Laughed about bad jokes,

the horrible nativity set I found at a Goodwill almost 10 years ago,

foreshadowing a family and home that would appreciate

 the creepily painted wise men

and handless baby jesus.

 We laughed about the coming zombie apocalypse,

and filled our fireless jelly jars with the rest of the red wine.

In the face of our 3 hour power outage

I've never been quite so content.

Because only in the darkness can you see the light.

Only in the face of adversity do you truly tap into your strengths.

Only in the cold of a winter's power outage

can you truly see what you are thankful for. 

So for the new year,

I am hopeful.

I certainly am grateful.

For you.  For fire.  For creative pursuits.

For a community of artists and dear friends.

For love in the face of 8 years together.

For a roof over this family.

For the prospect of a new year, 

fresh with possibility.

Thank you. 

Thank you for being here and holding my passion

with delicate hands.

Happy New Year, friends.

May 2015 bless us all.