November 19th

Reverberation

re. the chorus of the universe

of course there is an orchestral conductor 

but no, not the entity, 

but rather 

the cumulative simplicity of 

the laws of physics

from the swaying trees 

into the wild gestures of their extremities

of course i'm at odds with the pulse of the 

designer mainstream -group- think -consumers

turning their backs on 

the rhythms of nature- 

having erroneously assumed 

dominion over nature 

denying a connection 

to that which you oppress 

being "natural"

what bad habits of logic 

you humans have acquired, 

said the Orca, 

shaking her head- slowly 

in comparison with 

the beating wings of a 

humming bird

their hearts of course

beating 

to the rhythm of 

the task at hand

and that's why

ballerinas are advised against 

driving

November 17th

new MVfluid dynamics
of multi-dimensional plaid 
48 x 66 photo to follow

as the bare branches 

shake the last of the 

seeds free to 
hit the metal roof

so chickadees and nut hatches

can help with the planting

and swaying in the wind 
 rattling twigs 

sing a rhythm

outside of time

dancing the transition

fragrant heart-wood 
drying in

recollection of

a hundred summers

into letters to a young poet

in case a listener is waiting 

in the wings

two dozen curious 

wild turkeys

started in the lane while 

i was loading slabs on the truck

and stuck around to supervise 

hanging the blade on tractor #2

and

in moonlight 

the howling

returned

Nov 16th

while driving around

through the eye of the storm

with cainsaws cables and winches

i took down  dangerous trees

for the safety and the challenge

at Baldwin's and the McGee's

Nov 15th-2013

Under  the Coyote Moon
36 x 60 in.

the distant song 

in the moonlit calm

after weeks of blowing 

snow and rain

the lumber stacked 

with care and strain

prepared again 

for winter 

November 9th, 2013

the sounds of 
things 

falling

leaves and keys

and branches and trees

in the sounds of rain

as it shifts back and forth 

from water to ice

as the lumber falls into

layers of species 

and dimensions

finally under

cover woven

in the race against

snow another

permutation of

multidimensional

plaid overseen by 

chipmunks and 

chickadees

nov 1-13

His grandmother said' " let me see your hands"… then snorted,

"you haven't done an honest days work in your life"

the value of contrast; 

to find your self 

giving 

your head 
a shake

the pleasure of work         

which arrives

when it's over

but when, the work is out-of step 

with the main stream dream

like air-drying the trees 

that have succumbed to

the changing and 

doing one's best to be

filling the forest's dreams
for example,

one might wonder 

if a Sitka spruce

bound by imagination

over-looking the Pacific might be

longing to be a mast on a sailing ship or to

travel the world with a view from the 

top a guitar
but, closer to home
if the red elm that died of thirst
becomes the rail of a boat under sail
and crosses an ocean to a continent that
was once connected
is that not a 
transcendence of time?

having accomplished a string of physical necessities…

chain saw gaskets and carb kits

brakes,  a "U" joint,  and snow tires

tractor hydraulics and batteries….

Eric and his sawmill finally rolled in the lane

in a confluence of lucky accidents

a number of treasures that have been 
languishing here since I arrived

thirty years ago have stepped forward 
to be part of this

on-site sustainable harvest... 

milling, air drying and

imagining what the 

wood might like to be. 

fifteen 7' aluminum 2"x"6 extrusions

lay on the gravel, graded with the blade

that came with the second 

seventy-five year old tractor

to be covered with the galvanized

industrial roof steel off-cuts

portable sawmill days,  Oct 29 and 30-2013

Sawmill Day

after weeks of rain

anticipating the second

sawmill day 

the magnificent elm

offers bulwarks to 

the Seawind.

the Ash,

strapping for the 

tractor shed

and table tops and beams

and dreams live

in the live-edge Cherry

Grass Roots Forest Management, Day Two;

Tractor #1 one 

dragged the trees with-in reach 

of the mill's hydraulic arms

the set-up worked

in a sequence to 

fill the improvised skids and 

to allow an escape route

the "character" logs -

the figured and the spalted

were left to the end

three of us ,

our senses honed through anticipation

to into focused collaboration of

an improvisation dance, so

what if  dance 

is a bridge back to

some timeless necessities

and the maple that was sprouting

fall Oyster Mushrooms when

i went looking for some

"dirty" wood were eaten that night 

( spagetti recipe )

my arms are remembering working

in a pleasant harmony of

tingles, numbness and pain

after a day of  grading, 

loading and stacking

in the wind and rain 

the last log 

a maple that has stood

too near the back corner of the studio

knowing for thirty years that 

it was  destined to go

farther a field than

firewood

the other two pieces were quickly cut and 

dragged down the lane with unanimity

at the end of a very long day