If they could talk...

Spent the day poking around my favourite little

thrift store town, Sidney, B.C.

But before I started 'the hunt' I noticed the tides were

finally low and so I went down to the shore to have a look.

Not much of a beach but sometimes you can find a few

interesting bits and pieces from a fire

in the early 1900's...

I did find one rare piece of red glass...

...the bits of green seemed to be calling my name too and 

a bit of printing on a worn piece of pottery...

I am a sucker for an old suitcase and couldn't resist this 

cute little leather one with a sweet interior...

Whenever I find one I always want to know...

"Where have you been?" 

"Which exotic ports did you see?"

"Did you travel from far away on a train? plane? horseback?"

Who's initials are engraved on some suitcases?

There's also the little metal tag with the number 1819 on it which

I doubt is a date...do you know?

Like I said, I have a small collection of vintage cases that

I use for storage or taking goods to shows.

 

They are sturdy things, for sure, stackable and can take a licking...

The other great find was this whimsical cheese holder and knife!

 It's pewter with the name Metzke printed on it and I researched 

it to find out it was made in Tallahassee, Florida in the mid '70's.

So the hunt was successful! 

The spirit of ravens...part 2

 This story is about my other encounter with a raven 

which I wrote a few months ago.

In reference to Spirit of the West, it is a Canadian folk rock band who had just lost their lead singer 

John Mann. 

He was a powerhouse of a performer with energy which permeated a room of 10 

or a stadium of thousands. 

He died from complications due to early onset dementia.

He was 57. The same age as myself.

On a day when we lost a part of Spirit of the West, I was  a quiet witness to another spirit of the west passing. 

On a deserted lakeside trail, my uncle and I and 3 dogs  ambled up through firs and arbutus to a peaceful lake in the highlands.

We walked amongst  the  bountiful mushroom crop, best in years….giant white gills emerging, orange flat caps, slimy, skeleton like,  curled up hands, reaching out from the mossy graves.

The smallest dog caught the scent of something more interesting though. 

And as if he knew to be gentle other than the crazed terrier on the scent of something to hunt, he nudged his nose towards it. 

The feathered black body lay off to the side of our footpath.

The Raven. Still alive. Resting on his side. 

We thought at first that he was injured.

Should we save him?

Take him to the wildlife rescue centre?

My Uncle took all three dogs away and left me with him.

I stroked his feathered back…he looked at me calmly from a black, glass bead of an eye. 

 The top of his head slightly ruffled in proud raven fashion.

The beak…the long, strong confident power of it.

And then I looked at his leg, relaxed under the large wing.

 It was calloused at the knee joint like old burled maple. Dry, no fresh flesh of a wound. His foot had similar aged markings. Years of wear. Of battles. Of old wounds. Maybe arthritis had set in.

I think he had chosen to lay down his sword.

To rest on the bed of fallen leaves .

His satin black form against the brown blanket of an all too familiar autumn floor.

How old are you I wondered?

I wanted to go home and rip open one of my own down quilts and bring a bag of feathers back to him. 

Cover him with warmth on this frosty night.

Lay with him so he was not alone.

But he was not alone.

While I sat there, a congress of  ravens , cackled and looped their songs above this senior member.

 They circled a hundred feet above him, sat vigilantly in treetops but they were not that far away in spirit to the one who lay dying on the forest floor.

He could hear their words of goodbyes and well wishes.

I offered him my own words of comfort in a language he wouldn’t understand  but perhaps through my tone  and touch he would grasp my encouragement of love and light on his journey to the next world.

I thought of the things in my own life that are dying.

How acceptance is not an easy thing for mortals.

Today, once again, I am learning from the world beyond words and human things.

Keep to the quiet paths.

Listen to the swans trumpet.

Stop to watch the sun rise through a frosted, dying seed head.

The tall, tawny coloured high grasses will keep you company on an early morning walk.

And always…listen for the silence in between it all.

The spirit of ravens...

After a long, no excuse pause on this little blog, I'm back!

I have been reflecting on so much these days including the importance 

of moving slow through life and observing.

I was spending chunks of precious time on the fast-food of media

Facebook and Instagram and decided that I want 

to journal on these pages again. 

FB and IG can be notoriously up to date

and entertaining but I found it was taking me away from 

what I used to love to do...record the world around me.

I had a good ramble through previous posts and was reminded of so many 

moments in mine and others lives that got me thinking about 

the importance of observing, reflecting and sometimes 

diving deep into life. 

Such as my 2 incredibly moving encounters with ravens.

About a year ago I was rambling around in the bush with true companion, Jed,

when I found a ravens carcas with the head barely attached.

I thanked the bird gods for the gift and gently carried it home...

...looking a bit gruesome, I know, but I've never had the blessing of finding

a raven's skull, so I was very happy.

I asked a curator at a museum workshop I was doing, what the best way to

clean up all the remaining feathers and junk (The 'meat' of the brains and eyes were gone) so I could reveal the skull.

He told me just to put it in a large jar of water for a week or two, changing the water and rinsing the skull daily...sure enough it worked like a charm!

I found it so interesting that the black part of the beak 

is actually a sheaf that comes off.

So I've had the skull cleaned up and sitting around since then and last week I finally got around to putting it into a shadow box.

I felt it deserved something regal to rest on so I chose a piece of lovely,

vintage silk velvet in a twilight blue...

That BEAK!! 

It will sit in a place of honour because these birds are 

magical and powerful in many cultures. 

Some have dark and gloomy meanings,

others are more spiritual and mythical.

They are a highly intelligent bird and a very tightly knit

family/community bird.

My second tale of raven encounters will be next on the blog.

This one affected me very intensely and deeply.

I hope you can take the time to have a look.

What's happenin'...

Well hello 2018!

Back in the studio now that the hoopla has died down and the creative juices are flowing again.

I love this time of year...full of promise, new hopes and ideas kick in.

I'm trying this year to introduce a few more new kits so 

those who've never tried needle felting can give it a go.

I've had 3 in my shop for a while now, Owl, Fox and Man in the Moon

and I'll be introducing a Fawn and a Raccoon in the very near future.

Here's some sample photos of whats to be coming soon...

It's a very time consuming process to take step by step photos, load them onto the printing website,
write up the instructions for each step, lay it all out appropriately, check all the spelling, grammar etc.
and then wait for two weeks for things to come back from the printer and get the samples ready to take to the shops. By the way, the kits are currently available at Knotty by Nature and Amelia Lee Boutique in Victoria, BC (as well as on my website here).
As always, I like to think ahead to other projects so I'll keep y'all posted on that later.
I've been on some lovely walks lately...early morning down on the flats with the geese...

Jed looking quite sporty!

 Went up Island to ramble with my buddy and her pup...
Jed ever hopeful for a scrap of sausage roll to drop!

Ended up at the Tea Farm where I was smitten with the colours on this building!

 Lots of pretty frost around these days...

 Busy beavers down by the marsh...

One of my precious finds in the bush was this raven head.
Now waiting in the freezer to be cleaned up!

Also found in the bush, this gorgeous door handle and plate...

 Georgia...well...she's just grand!!

Hope everyone is happy and healthy and that the fresh, New year is taking you off
on wonderful journey's! 

Deer Mother...

When I made my reindeer I knew that the females were the ones who kept their antlers in the winter.

So I gave her a feminine Sami name meaning 'quiet,' to honour the majestic and powerful and all being magical creatures we associate the winter season with.

Introducing Jaska...

After blog hopping this morning I found the most interesting post by Gather a local Victoria

blog produced by two women who clearly know how to research and put out a gorgeous blog.

They are truly passionate about which they write about! 

I urge you to check out there archives...so interesting and

many tasty recipes made from local, wild crafted ingredients!

So I found this enlightening post all about the Deer Mother in legend, folklore and history...

https://gathervictoria.com/2014/12/04/doe-a-deer-a-female-deer-the-spirit-of-mother-christmas/comment-page-3/#comment-4911

So grab a mug of tea and spend the time to have a look through the beautiful images

and learn all about this engaging tale of the Deer Mother.

I guess it explains a lot on a former sculpture I made...Finns Nordic dream...

I had no idea about all of the folklore regarding birds in the antlers and such!

(this sculpture is sold)

(p.s...Jaska is now available in my etsy shop here

an update...

Limner spoke of not deleting drafts and this was one I was working on for something else when I forgot to delete the draft!
So for you Limner (and anyone else who might have wondered!)

'Sue'

Tugwell Creek Honeyfarm

Sooke, B.C

 (taken on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I was supposed to be taking photos of bees but this lovely gal poked her head out of a little sheep shed)  

Thanks Limner for alerting the press!!