Maria Wulf Full Moon Fiber Art

The Gift Of November


Fate and Bud enjoying a November night in front of the wood stove.

The tall grasses were like turnstile after turnstile on my legs and shoulders.  They bent to my body then sprang back into place as I passed though them.

This passage into the woods.

I hadn’t been here since the beginning of the summer when it becomes unpassable.  The grasses too tall and thick, the ground too wet, the ticks too many.

I step thought the break in the low stone wall into the woods.  I make begin a new path, just a few foot steps, around a dead tree that finally came down.  The little waterfall is loud and frothy from the rain.  The bench Ed Gulley made has acorn shells on it and I imagine the squirrel sitting there, eating.

I pull my fingers into my gloves warming them in a fist.  Then I decide, instead of resisting the cold, instead of tightening my body, my muscles, my brain against it, I let go.

I breathe out the tension in my muscles, I stop thinking that I’m cold and start seeing what is in front of me instead.  My body becomes soft, more fluid in its movement and instead of feeling like I’m walking in the woods, I become a part of the woods.   I let the cold and damp seep into my skin, down to my bones, without judgement.

I am the air around me.

My body is still cold, but it doesn’t  matter anymore.

Maybe this is the gift, I think. To not resist what I’m feeling. To not judge what I’m feeling. To not let my feelings keep me from seeing the reality that is right in front of me.

On the way back home, I visited the big, old shag bark hickory. I stopped and touched  my tongue to a raindrop hanging off the tip of a branch.  Fate ran ahead.  I knew she’s be on the other side of the pasture gate when I got there.  Both waiting for me, and getting as close to the sheep as she could.


November Morning

Fanny and Lulu stood in the pole barn watching the sheep eat their hay.  There was a layer of icy snow on the ground this morning, cold rain made the barn yard into the kind mud that pulls at my boots.

I fed the donkey’s some leftover  bread from yesterday’s breakfast, but they were not leaving the barn, not even for the hay Jon put in the feeders.

I went to get the rake and shovel to muck out the barn and when I got back, the donkeys were where I left them, munching on a pile of hay.   They knew as well as I did,  that Jon would not make them go out in the cold rain to eat.

Jon and the donkeys have been doing this for a long time. He could never resist their soft nickering, their reluctance to get wet.

Then it was my turn.

I’ve been meaning to get seed for the bird feeder for the past two weekend.  But yesterday the sun was out and last weekend it was warm enough to garden.  It wasn’t until this morning, that the reality of November seeped in.

Yes, I thought, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck to keep the warm in, winter really is on its way.

I filled the bird feeders as much for myself as the birds.  I wanted to do something to make me appreciate the gray skies and coming cold  instead of dreading it.  I thought of the good things. The birds that will soon be outside my studio window.  How, this time of year, my path into the backwoods isn’t blocked by overgrown grasses and ticks.  Coming in from the cold to a house warm with the heat of wood stoves.

I reminded myself to embrace the melancholy that fills the air around me this time of year. The lonely, disconnected feeling that comes with the cold and the holidays. But I believe, like my nightmares, it holds a gift. Now I just have to figure out what it is.

A Pair Of Potholders For Nancy

Potholders for Nancy

Nancy bought a bunch of my Potholders as Christmas gifts for her friends and family.  I had the Potholder on the right for sale in my Etsy Shop and she wanted another to go with it. (she was giving each person a pair of potholders)

I knew I had some of the same fabric left, but most of it was made from scraps I had used up.  So I used the pieces I had that were the same and found other fabric in similar colors to make the pair.

My Art My Life

My art, my life.  That feels right.  It’s as if I left that space in my header just for those words.

I just moved the red boots down one appliqué space, and stitched the words to fill the space.

The realization that my art and life are not separate, but blend and overlap into each other, the boundaries soft and fuzzy, is one of the things that made me feel confident in my decision that my writing, videos and photos, the work I do on my  blog, is something people might want to pay for.

I’ve already emailed my new header to Chris at Mannix Marketing, my blog designers, with the copy for a new page on my blog explaining how to support my blog.

Hopefully it we all go live sometime in the next couple of weeks.


Bud Sits On Fanny’s Back

At the end of my Monday Morning Video, if you listen carefully, you can hear Jon suggest we see if Bud will sit on Fanny’s back.

It seemed to me like the right time, like everyone was up for it.  The donkeys were calmly hanging around us and  weren’t fazed by Bud, when earlier, he approached them. (you can see that in my Monday Morning Video too)

So I picked Bud up and put him on Fanny’s back.  You can see how well it went for yourself….

Jon took a picture of Bud on Fanny’s back called “The King Of Bedlam Farm“.  I’m selling it in my Etsy Shop for $125 and until December 10th, the shipping on all Jon’s photos in my Etsy Shop is free.   You can get to my Etsy Shop by clicking here or on my Shop Etsy Button below.

The King of Bedlam Farm by Jon Katz

Full Moon Fiber Art Etsy Store

Where Fate Sleeps

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but a while ago Fate  started sleeping downstairs instead of coming  upstairs to sleep in our bedroom, as she had since she was a puppy.

I don’t know why she wants to be downstairs.

Maybe she wants to be near the door incase we go out to the sheep.  Maybe she likes the time alone, with her choice of couch, chair or two different dog beds to sleep on.  And she sleeps on them all.  I can’t imagine  what makes her choose one over the other each night.

Last night it was the couch.  She opened her eyes and looked at me when I first came downstairs to go to the bathroom, but on my way back up, when I took her picture, she didn’t move at all.

I kissed the top of her head before going back to bed.

Provincetown Planter and Purple Oxalis

This past week I brought  the last of our potted flowers inside  from the back porch.  We haven’t had any snow yet, but tonight it’s supposed to get down to 26 degrees.

This time of year, until the spring comes, the house plants will fulfill my gardening urges.

I brought the head we got in Provincetown in a couple of weeks ago.  The Oxalis I planted in it never looked so good.  I think it likes the fall light that comes through the south facing window.  The purple shamrock leaves are always changing.  Reaching to the sun during the day  and folding up, like a sleeping butterfly in the night.

The Oxalis even has a couple of white flowers.  I may have to leave the head in that window year round.

Thirty Second Soap Bubble Meditation

After washing the dishes, I came back to the sink and saw that this tiny soap bubble that landed on the fine hairs of the African Violet leaf on the windowsill above the sink.

As I looked at the soap bubble, I saw it kept changing, the light spinning round and round on the edge of the bubble.


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