Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

- Wendell Berry, The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

I've been dying to share the news with you all of the Winter Handmade Market coming this November, hosted by Abby Try Again and {Frolic!}, at the lovely Ace Hotel. The vendors will include Amanda Blake, Shanna Murray, Postal Press and Herriott Grace.

On another note, I'm researching messenger bags - particularly how to make them - and am hoping to hit the wide wild ocean this week while the weather is still good.


If we believed that the existence of the world is rooted in mystery and in sanctity, then we would have a different economy. It would still be an economy of use, necessarily, but it would be an economy also of return. The economy would have to accommodate the need to be worthy of the gifts we receive and use, and this would involve a return of propitiation, praise, gratitude, responsibility, good use, good care, and a proper regard for the unborn. What is most conspicuously absent from the industrial economy and industrial culture is this idea of return. Industrial humans relate themselves to the world and its creatures by fairly direct acts of violence. Mostly we take without asking, use without respect or gratitude, and give nothing in return.
To perceive the world and our life in it as gifts originating in sanctity is to see our human economy as a continuing moral crisis. Our life of need and work forces us inescapably to use in time things belonging to eternity, and to assign finite values to things already recognized as infinitely valuable.
- Wendell Berry

rather in love at the moment with Berry and bicycles and bubbletea
soak in the sun, my lovelies, and have a good saturday
p.s. listen

photo from Paper Cameras


streaming grey shadows spanning bright cement
cotton breezing; summer i think at last. thank god.

Lovejoy Bakers feels like Paris and Francois Hardy is the perfect compliment to every moment of this day. New favorites here and here.

Loving Bolt these days, and ever so delighted with the new Printing Studio on Alberta.

click photos for sources


and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?
-Rainer Maria Rilke

summer overflows already, despite the wetness outside.
Latenight music, coffee, cameras, Le Care, sewing machines, crosswords, and live ensembles in the forest.

For summer larks, I recommend tracking down Fear No Music. They are usually to be found at The Old Church, if not conducting musical bicycles on Mount Tabor. Free Shakespeare in the Park is also about, provided you can survive the lovely precipitation we've been graced with.

here's to sun arriving soon: sound of today


photos at last developed from trip to Seattle
off to pick up a turntable and soak in the tentative sun out that window

sounds of today here


its been an out-of-focus kind of week
with way too much to do & too little energy
and rain rain rain wet rain

but its bright and breezy and melodious today
paper finished & summer officially here!

I've been planning for this and this
and for today: listen