Ah, Ragdale.


Ah, Ragdale. I’m home now, after loading the Subaru one final 2013 time (with David’s steadfast and much appreciated help) and unloading (with Paul’s, ditto), and a fine evening of comfortable homecoming celebration. I slept deep and late, woke to Lupe’s gentle nose and a sweet note from Paul, who was out getting us dinner for tonight from my favorite takeout place.


Grateful for my papermaker’s boots, I dashed out as storm #1, with spectacular,  frequent close lightning strikes, began to wane into a simply torrential deluge.  The standing water was six inches deep in parts, here and on the path to the studio.

Ragdale and the Shaw prairie continued the changing-season show during the last week, with the severe storms that caused so much damage to areas of the midwest. We fortunately escaped the worst. There were three seperate storms that rolled through during the day, and the sky put on a spectacular show: each storm had distinctly different cloud formations.  The studio was rattling and banging from the winds, but I was working away and didn’t know what was occurring elsewhere, or that I should be worried.


Storm #1 moving out, #2 moving in…


On another night, when the intensified internal shifting I was undergoing threatened to spin off-course into a downward spiral, Chef Linda set me right with a delicious plate in the warming oven, chocolate, and a poem by Dan Vera that was as warming and healing as the superb food, and nurtured me just as vitally.


Four harvests happened, including steaming, stripping, bark-removal and drying for three of them: good batches of fiber all (five counting the earlier-in-October milkweed, and a sixth harvest of winter bast yet to be done).


Four ear-fungi were made, with the highly improved third-generation construction method. One was installed, right back where the original was located. I want a grouping of three there, but wasn’t sure how smart that would be because of the colder temperatures (the adhesive needs some warmth to set properly; it was 8 degrees below the minimum). I decided to come back and add the others in the spring. However, I’m happy to say that this one did survive three days of rain and some snow; I hauled the ladder over and checked it yesterday before I left, and it was still quite firmly attached.


Bits of the original were still attached to the tree, and gave me lots of information when I removed them. After installing, I scouted around again under the now-leafless young scrub trees to see if I could find any other pieces; I didn’t, but was rewarded instead with this lovely raccoon skull.


On Monday I made a fine decision: not to push to finish things, because I didn’t need to.  Unlike past years, when leaving Ragdale meant leaving my work for long periods of time (or, more recently, when I’d been working to satisfy deadlines), this residency segues into my self-provided long stretch of home studio time: I can continue! So, I decided to simply keep taking advantage of the Meadow studio itself. I left with five new works in progress, completely built, only awaiting color.


Since these six projects are in progress, I don’t feel comfortable showing them yet, but here is a teaser detail of one.  (Yeah, I know: sorry.)

And there is a sixth: the beginnings of a new installation, fully thought out and sketched out, with two prototypes made. The second of these was informative enough that the third attempt here at home, with all my equipment at hand, will very likely be the first component of the work.


Early in the residency, walking off-path in the meadow to see a fine sunset, I discovered three milkweed stalks I’d somehow missed during my previous harvest.

Some writing was done as well, and a couple of lovely 2014 classes came in and were booked and/or are under discussion. And above and beyond everything else: that palpable internal shift. I don’t quite know how to write about that yet, but it is personally profound, and I don’t think it might have happened as thoroughly and articulately without this place and what it provides.


I brought them in to grace the studio’s ‘relaxing corner’ along with some prairie dock leaves (which I love), intending to strip their fiber when I left.

I’ll admit: each year of my post-salary life, I’ve wondered if I can afford to come back to Ragdale, and, when I get there, if this year will be the last. But during this, the first residency without an agenda in such a very long time, I learned: I really can’t afford not to. This is the touchstone place, where I am renewed, always. Thank you, Ragdale.


But then, as I was packing up yesterday, I knew where they needed to be.


And now: four to six months at home, with all these new riches spread out before me.  And, just moments before I was leaving, a text: “Lots of mulberry cut down next door, want it?” Ahh, yes.


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