1.it is a long journeyfrom dust to dustbecoming and becominguntil we areno more 2.today i sort the woolrank with goatand dirt of living –hook out the bristle thorn,lucerne stalks and seed debris –air it on the table in the sun.sinking fingers intosun warm fleeceto say the prayers of thanks because how can this not be…
friday evening finds me, eve of solstice oiling my spinning wheel adjusting the drive band and spindle whorl until the wheel turns true – the wood glowing warm by firelight.this wheel is older than i, felled from a forest in someone else’s backyard, continents away – worked and shaped and turned until the maker honoured…