bloodroot and trillium

I'm back in town.

Our street is being torn up.

It's cool out. 

I sense that one of my themes as I continue to write about cleaning up difficult physical areas is now to write about Persephone above ground and back in the world of all living plants. I will start with my musings about the plants that I have printed on linoleum blocks long ago. Themes of nature and the cycle of growth will appear as well as my relationship to our old farmstead out in the country that is now falling down.

I know that out in the Wisconsin woods, not far from where our old house is falling down the bloodroot and trillium remain impervious to that decay as they push up through the leaves to bloom.

The bloodroot sends out its clusters of underground roots to start a new colony of bloodroot plants and just about now the small white flowers can be seen as the lovely lobed leaves wrap around the stem like an elegant cloak.

I have loved the bloodroot plant for a long time. Once upon a time in my eager batiking days I actually dug up the roots in order to use the juice for dying. Yes, the roots are bloody and no it was not a successful venture at all. But I persisted and found a way to incorporate it into my beautiful batik piece.

For the actual linoleum block print that I did of the bloodroot I picked

an actual leaf and traced it onto a linoleum block. Then I carefully cut it and tried to be true to the pattern of veins and leaves on the actual leaf.

I often print it on bright red paper.

Soon the sweet symetrical balanced trilliums will dot the woods with their splendor. Lovely, lively beautiful trilliums. A lovely gathering in the woods. I drew the plant directly onto the linoleum and then carved it in the heat of a summer day.

********

Last night I looked at my old Farm Journal. Time had drifted on. Seasons of bloodroot and trillium had come and gone since I last wrote about the untimely death of one of our friends out there. Leaves had piled up. The snow had fallen down. The bloodroot and trillium had pushed their way up. Seasons have passed. Have passed.

The old house fell down some more.

I pick up the old journal.

I read and remember all of my vows now 12 years ago to pick up the 

long forgotten hidden Island memoir and keep on working on it.

There is a silence out at the farm that reminds me of the silence 

on the island.

Tides come and go.

Seasons come and go.

Time passes.

And now it is again Spring!

And I have resumed work on my Island memoir.

And I have new vigor and hopeful plans to clean up the old house.

And yes, once more I bend down to my sweet favorite plants

the humble bloodroot and trillium.

And yes, I will bend low in humility and adore them once again.

and now to print them up 

on paper the color of pipestone and earth.

These lovely plants teach me humility and quietness.

"Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it!

- Mahatma Gandhi

Persephone's Ascent

Persephone's Ascent

      I have left the basement behind and ascended the stairs out of winter. I did not complete my task  down in my own personal underworld but accept how much I tried to do.

     Now the verdant outdoors calls. Birds chirp. The crab apple tree is  about to blossom. Yes, Persephone is truly back in the upper world with her mother and all living things start to blossom and grow in abundance.

      And I find a new task for this season above ground. Not an easy one, in fact perhaps even harder than trying to clean my basement. 

   My dear one and I have an old house out in the country. Inheritated in a circuitous way from others, we have the communal house that once housed so many. Now it is vacant and empty and falling into the ground. It is totally a house of memory and I muse on trying to clean it up

This task makes the basement seem easy and I wonder..is this all my life ends up being???cleaning up one endless mess after another...my basement,...the garage...the old house at the farm..and before all this, my parents house....and so forth.

I have to find some kind of shape and meaning to all this and so I write and muse and allow the past that dwells in memory to rise up and direct me on my way...somehow giving meaing to what can be overwhelming. my tool, my magic wand, the ability to craft meaning into words

Somehow giving shape to what has been tossed into a pile, what is falling apart, what needs to be thrown out and what needs to be shared and saved.

    the air turns pink outside with promise...the grass turns green after the long winter... I muse and wander and wonder through my labyrinths of stuff...trusting that I will come out in the end with order, meaning and relief..

Soon the trilliums will bloom all over the hillside out there around the decaying house. Nature prevails and continues. I rest in its cycles of change and beauty and try as best as I can to deal with my earthly squalor allowing nature and its birdsong and emerging plant life to carry me along.

Spring is here....it's warm all of a sudden....

   Today I lay around in the sun out in my Vine Hut...the weather lately has been more like April, or early May.

Two weeks have passed and I have not gone down to the basement to do any work....but it's odd what floats my way, even on brief excursions down there. It's interesting how the muse comes to me, every time I descend or ascend the basement steps....

Earlier this week two guys named Rick and Nick came to check the sewer. I had to move some junk and books out of the way as I led them down the basement steps.

Upon coming back upstairs I found a piece of paper on the stairs.
It was one of the many poems that my father had copied and scrawled on in the margins. One of his favorites....written by
 W. H. Auden upon the death of Auden's lover.
It is called 
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone."

It is a searing poem of death and deep grief.
Beautiful and elegant and deep.

I shared it on my Facebook Page. There were some nice responses.

Then earlier today I went downstairs in search of a black garbage bag to temporarily put some garden weeds into...there on top of the piles was a Poetry Book from my high school that I was published in. Called Arthur, the book contains 4 of my poems. I don't know how it managed to land there....but there it was...

The poem of most interest to me was called Q Yard about my visit to the railroad yard my dad clerked in for the Burlington Northern Railroad.

It severely needs editing, but I could see my original voice from 1970 and some real feelings shone out.
( I will add it in here in a day or so....edited that is)

My dad keeps calling out from the Great Beyond in several forms..I listen carefully....

Somehow finding that orange book of highschool poetry related back to the Class I took at the Loft this morning about Getting Your Work out and Published...perhaps finding this little orange poetry book from the past was a nudge for me to keep trying...

so, the basement does not get cleaned, but oh my how active the Muse is!!....and the muse is wrapped up with my dad Jim White's ardent love of poetry and how he makes himself known in subtle ways and how I documented his work life through a poem so very long ago.

Charcoal drawing of my Dad James C. White by my mother Emily.

a sad, wise, wonderful wistful portrait, that reveals some of his inner complexity.

Procrastination remains, but all of a Sudden!

An Insight and a Beautiful Plan!

So, I fall into old patterns of Avoiding The Task.

Busy with my lovely Winter Hobby of Making Ice Sculptures.

and

Reading, Teaching, Musing, Swimming like a mermaid 

when I can.

Anything but following through on this task.

Spring is vaguely in the air.

My Deadline loomed...March 31st

Hahahahaha

and then I reset that.

to April 30th.

Whew.

and then...

there was this amazing article in the paper....

about Growing Plants in Your Basement!!

and suddenly the Light went on!!

Illumination!

Insight!

Joy!

Why of course!! This is what I was headed towards all along.....new growth..!!!!

So obvious of course.

and even though the Basement is NOT cleaned up.

I see what will and can happen.

The Clear Plan Emerges:

    Once the table that holds my dear father's books is cleared off...I'll Just put the books on the shelves.

That table will hold small trays for Starting Plants in the Spring...and even into next winter..I will grow with the aide of Light...chard and other edibles.

Voila!! Light!! Illumination!! and Joy!!

and Change.

and like the quiet silent Alef that begins the Hebrew alphabet.

a quiet beginning of growth in the basement.

I washed the steps leading down to the basement.

   As I walk up and down the Basement Stairs I notice the cat hair and dust. Today I washed them from the top to the bottom. It doesn't really make the descent all that much easier and I am running out of time.

I have about six weeks left on my Goal Line to at least get the basement looking better.

I did take photos of how it is. It's not time to post them yet.
They are too graphic.

I will keep at it.

Metaphorically speaking I have been making my descent into the basement of Memory as I am taking a finance class for women.
How symbolic that I can just barely find my way around. I get LOST every time leaving the building. I couldn't even find my way to class the first week because I did not turn over the directions sheet until the SECOND week of class. quite a metaphor for how lost I feel about money and finances and CONTROL over this area of my life.....not too unlike the basement.

Our teacher has posed questions for us about our relationship to money as a child of about 5 or 6. Then we were asked to move those questions forward. 
So I have posed the questions to myself
At age 5 or 6. ( We moved at that time to the house I grew up in)
Age 24. When I lived on an island off the west coast of Ireland.
Age 42 When I had a good paying job that I thought would continue.
My present age 62. When I am struggling as much if not more than when I lived on the island long ago.
And looking ahead to age 72.

And so it goes.
All these musings imply a descent into memory....sometimes and often into messy places...not unlike my basement.

I move along.

Today is my husbands 75th birthday. I am preparing the house for guests later and will be picking up his cake mid afternoon.

And so it goes.
the years pass.
I reflect, muse and descend into difficult places..while holding dear and celebrating the Joy I embrace today/
My dear wonderful, adorable, sweetie pie, PRACTICAL husband.

all for now.
more work to do.

time for another cleaning schedule.

A Garden of Art Revealed

So, I did make it down to the basement after all today.

I moved my paintings and found

Two Self Portraits,

Three Hibiscus Paintings done in 1991,

one dark and mysterious drawing done out the window 

of my family dining room,

Two watercolors on rice paper of the view

from the IDS tower

done so long ago.

I would sell them cheap.

Meaningful work,

like a drawing of my friends altar in her kitchen

long ago.

and a wonderfully colorful painting of me 

as a child

that my brilliant husband suggested I 

use on a business card.

just so much.

and yet just a few pieces I would really want to keep.

the rest

Sell!!!

$36  $50  $77

Buyers choice,

Buyers Price!

I started moving my brother's

Wonderful artwork into place.

and so it goes.

some progress.

some courage.

some more Treasures found.

Avoiding and Resuming the Task

avoiding and resuming

It's really a nice day outside. I hope to dwell in the sunshine 

of my Vine Hut amid the pines soon.

In the meantime I avoid, have  SUCCESSFULLY avoided going down to clean

the basement, or at least look at it.

For about 12 days now.

I decided I would not post photos of the disarray and Challenges I have faced

until it is all cleaned up at the end of March.

A deadline for now: March 31.

But yes today I will resume the task.

If only to clean the kitty litter,

take some photos

and move something, 

some things around.

Perhaps throw something away.

Oh why is it so hard to deal with the past????

and oh the way it manifests with physical clutter...

Just a short while ago

I moved a lovely wooden feminine buddha figure on loan to me

into a central corner of my dining room.

where I can see her all the time

as I pass by.

She resides 

In 

 Simplicity

Reminding me

that it is possible.

************************

I resume the task.

I resume writing about it.

Evening January 13, 2015

Well, I did publish this Blog on Face Book.  Hmmmmm will see if anyone will follow me down the basement steps and encourage me in my quest to make order, retrieve memories and find my treasures amid all that I discard and throw out.

As the beer signs in England in 1972 said: 

'TAKE COURAGE!'

ANOTHER ARCHIVE:
Treasure and Dismay   January 13, 2015

I went down to the basement and carefully opened a box that held a series of drawings from our special place out in the country where I once spent a lot of time.
Drawings of people from the past, the land, unchanged through the seasons.
and many more moments and memories.
and dismay....dismay

the box had sat on the floor and each drawing has a small 1/2 inch of musty mildew or mold.

Perhaps this has happened to you?
So..what to do??
I will have to cut off the edge and carefully rub some bleach over the moldy part.

Oy va voy.

So discouraging.

The drawings will need to be attended to.

Oh dear.

Has this ever happened to you??

And yet Beauty and Memory remain...Here in parting is an image of a Trillium that I carved out there years ago..and that I still print from...A lovely spring trilluim that grew at the edge of the woods.

I will stay with the image of this beauty from the woods and gather up my courage to deal with the moldy drawings in the basement and so much more...so much more