This = That

I spent the morning getting very wet. I am working with an Elk hide to clean and use it for my art practice. I learned how to tan hides the Native way in 2000 and I continue to practice it. There are many people out there who hunt for meat and some of them bring me the hides for my own use. Many of the parts on a wild ungulate are useful; parts that when made into tools, rawhide or leather will last for generations. When these objects finally wear out they will return to the earth to nourish it in a complete circle of life. So if these old practices are good for the earth, why don't we do them anymore? Are we afraid to get our hands dirty? It is definitely easier to just buy the finished product - but I think purchasing it rather than making it prevents us from:

1) appreciating the labour that goes into making an object 2) realizing the consequences of our purchase on the earth 3) treating the object responsibly, ie: repairing it when it is broken rather than just buying another one.

I believe when we are removed from the labour of making an object, we are not aware of its true cost as retail cost is only represented in dollar signs and numbers and not in the process of making. Forgotten are the physical pain, process and sacrifice required for us to 'have' that object. We also don't associate the finished product with its origin. Some things should not be made from the materials that they are, materials and processes that hurt our environment and our people. Finding our way back to living with a smaller footprint will take practice and sacrifice, but it will be well worth it.

Take an object in your house and collage a 'this = that' photo. I guarantee it will be interesting.

Spring - the way I see it.

Beauty in the land as it comes back to life...

Thursday, November 13th at 7am

It was -19c this morning as I was feeding the horses. A bit chilly for me, but Cassie doesn't seem to mind. She has a full coat of winter fur. I wake up, drag myself out there and promptly come to attention as the cold starts to sting my cheeks. I may be miserable when I start, but by the time I have finished the chore I am smiling.

The view from here

I thought I'd share a couple of photos from our latest wilderness getaway. The family usually just packs up the camper and heads out. We sometimes have a general direction in mind, but we don't always have a place. We just take it as it comes. I find these outings to be very relaxing, recharges my creative abilities.

waiting to adopt...

There is a tiny hole in the fabric of this family. In January my family lost our little dog Bandit to an unnamed illness. I have been trying to adapt as we still have our lovely Laika dog, Sheeba, but there seems to be a small presence missing. Bandit was a positive, happy, and constant companion who was game for absolutely anything, except a bath. He kept me smiling with his 'glass half full' view of the world. Last week the family headed down to the local pet shelter 'just to have a look' and we found this sweet little guy:

At 1.5 years old, Ruger is every bit a clown, intelligent, handsome and agreeable. We started the adoption process and were scheduled to bring our dog Sheeba down for a meet-and-greet but found out that all the shelter dogs were under quarantine due to Kennel Cough. The shelter has no estimated date for release, and we have no idea whether or not Ruger has been infected. So for now, we wait.

smoke, coyotes, and mild weather

These are seemingly unrelated topics at first. What they have in common is their connection to my life lived in rural BC. This land calls to me with images of loveliness, brilliant green in spring, vibrant colors in summer and the serene monotones of fall and winter. On the surface, deceptively romantic, but really it's a struggle everyday. Routine items, like keeping warm and dry, growing food and running a variety of appliances with electricity become these large choreographed performances. The latest venue played last night as the heat seal from the wood stove crumbled into my hands right after I had filled the firebox for the night. I could not repair it and when the door was closed without the seal the air whipped in the gaps and over the wood filling the stove with bright orange flames. I could tell it wouldn't be long before the stove reached a dangerous temperature. Pulling the fire apart was the only solution I could come up with so I called my son and we pulled each log out, dousing it with water in a metal bucket and hauling it outside. We successfully emptied the firebox of wood while filling the house with smoke. Our eyes and throats burned and I couldn't help but wonder if there had been a better solution. After an hour of airing out the house, I finally headed to bed. It was after 11:00 p.m. and I had some trouble falling asleep. I kept thinking about how great it would be to sell the place and move somewhere...easier. I decided to open my window and put on an extra quilt. The weather was mild and the fresh air felt soothing on my throat. At some point I must have drifted off because the next thing I remember I was waking up to the sounds of a discordant chorus of coyotes with the neighbor dog singing back up. It was 2:20 a.m., only 3 hours remained until the start of the next day. Bring it on! I thought sarcastically before I drifted off again.