Weaving it Together

A week and a half ago I officially started a new role doing marketing & promotions for Goldthread, where, as many of you know, I've been participating in the amazing 7 month long Farm to Pharmacy program.

For the time being this is part time and in addition to my job in publishing and my freelance graphic design business...and I know it's perhaps way too soon to make proclamations like this but...

I'm totally loving it.


I'll wax poetic about this development more soon, but first I wanted to share a little behind-the-scenes look at the making of the header logo for Goldthread's new blog, The Thread (so new there are no posts...yet), a project I completed this weekend in my new & improved studio and office space at the house (more on that soon too).

Here is the original header logo I put together in Photoshop last week:

Everyone was happy with the concept, but given the tactile, hand-crafted, artisan nature of herbal medicine and Goldthread's product line in particular I felt that the digital illustration was missing some soul.

Inspired by their existing logo...

...and their existing aesthetic (which is kind of old-time apothecary meets Bread & Puppet and hoofs it to the East), I dug out my linoleum, knives, and ink and set to work, tracing the lines of my original digital digital illustration to ensure it would be the right size for the blog template and then transferring it onto the linoleum with carbon paper...

Then I prayed my knives were sharp, admired my as-of-yet unsliced fingertips, and began to slice.

Cutting the block is a process I enjoy but often rush in my desire to see the finished product. You can rush all you want in Photoshop, but rushing with cutting knives is a horrible idea. This is 'slow design.' A lost art in these frantic days of needing-it-done-yesterday, and appropriate for a logo about what is, in essence, 'slow medicine.'

Since this summer I'm all about enjoying the journey, I took my sweet time. I sipped my Tulsi Rose Chai tea, listened to kirtan and had last Friday's online broadcast from the Ayurvedic Institute streaming silently in the background (to keep me company). The finished block was uncharacteristically free of blood stains...

so I rolled on some black ink,

and waited until the print dried before painting it with watercolors using the brushes I inherited from my mom and drops of Tulsi tea in place of the water — a decision that was 50% symbolic and 50% unwillingness to walk down the stairs and across the length of the house for a dash of liquid. Because the journey is wonderful but I can only go so slow.

Though the hand-painted background and some of the busyness of the black ink lines were taken out digitally for the sake of readability and vibrancy in the final header logo, I think the end result manages to balance the strengths of both digital and hand-done artwork...

(click to see this larger-blogger is cutting off the right side of it!)

As for the new blog I'll let you know when our first post is up and I hope to enlist your help in spreading the word — an endeavor that will include the chance to win some delicious Goldthread tea and infused honey of your very own, which you can then drink and paint with at the same time, if you're so inclined.

Saturated

We've had so much rain and cool temperatures here this June that the vegetable garden, with the exception of the greens, is at a complete standstill. It's hard to believe any of it will bear fruit before the frost comes, yet we keep up with our garden tasks of pulling weeds and picking cucumber beetles off the tiny tomatillo plants and hope for the best. That's gardening in New England for you.

Many of the flowers, on the other hand, are prolific. The climbing hydrangea on the front fence would make me envious were it not mine, its woody vines tearing the pickets right off, its lacy white flowers making up for its rather destructive nature. I can sense it moving towards the house next, enveloping it in a twisted basket of branches and blooms.

The peonies, on the other hand, were a tragedy. I wait all year long to stick my face into those luxurious, velvety, petal-filled blooms but this season the few that opened filled with water like giant pink bowls before collapsing to the dirt and rotting. Most of the buds rotted before they even had a chance to open. The one handful of blooms that made its way into the house were short-lived, and I soon found myself brushing the spent petals off the bedside table and floor and releasing them out the window.

Ah well, maybe next year. They smelled heavenly, briefly.

 
Otherwise, the rain has brought vibrancy to the colors. I can't complain.

The spider post can not be the first thing I see when I open the blog any longer. How about a through-the-screen-door look at the multi-colored annuals I set in pots on the front step this summer?

Strange Sighting: Wolf Spider with her Young

Sorry if this creeps you out. It creeps me out too, but you know how curious I am about bugs.

This sighting was a first for me, and it took some internet searching to figure out what kind of spider this was and why it's back looked so...strange. I thought at first the spider was letting tiny bugs crawl over it, but now I see that they were baby spiders. The bite of a Wolf spider is venomous though not lethal -  however, if bitten you will be taking a trip to the hospital in the ambulance. They aren't aggressive but will bite if provoked (not sure why anyone would do that). I got as close as I dared with the camera - I give all spiders a wide berth.

I learned the following on the Arizona-Senora Desert Museum site (Wolf spiders are found throughout the United States): "After the female lays eggs, she carries the egg case with her wherever she goes, attached to her spinnerets. Sometimes she suns the egg case, sticking her rump, with egg case attached, outside the burrow entrance. The spiderlings hatch after about a month and climb onto the mother’s back, holding onto specialized hairs. After another month, they disperse, sometimes by ballooning. A female wolf spider may live up to 2 years."

To be honest, the experience of meeting this spider was equally intriguing and disturbing, and I won't be walking around in the tall grass barefoot anytime soon — especially knowing there's a whole new generation of them heading towards independence!

Mid-summer's eve.

Last Monday J and I both took the day off from work to celebrate his birthday. 

We chose to forgo a fancy dinner and sweet cake in favor of some fresh air and local beauty...

 

waterfalls and rivers cascading over stone, 

wildflowers and 

mushrooms, and the heady scent of warm Hemlock needles and loamy forest soil.

 We cheered for Vixen as she dog paddled around a small pond tucked in the woods,

and investigated an abandoned orchard and farm, whose whole yard was bursting with buttercups.

Along the same dirt road is a quiet historic cemetery we hadn't visited in years,

though others had, leaving behind simple gifts.

 We took in the details and

 the view and

everything in between, trying not to miss a thing. Summer is fleeting!
How are you enjoying it?

Cute Overload

A few weekends ago I met a friend's new kittens - not just one, but two bundles of cute.

Enjoy your cyber visit with them.

 

Harvesting Sunlight

"We are solar powered beings that run on nectar." This was just one concept explained to us by herbalist and teacher David Crow during Tuesday's herbal intensive at Goldthread. The intensive isn't part of the 7 month program I'm participating in, but instead runs alongside of it during the growing season, for those who aren't able to make a weekly commitment - the intensives meet for a full week in June, July, and September. 7 month students like myself are invited to attend as well.

And it was intense. By the end of the day (which ran from 9-6 instead of 9-4) I had over a dozen pages of notes, a recipe for an almost frighteningly delicious butter/honey/herb compound to spread on bread, had weeded, gone on an herb walk, been interviewed on camera by David (while holding loppers, no less), watched the preparation of fresh skullcap tincture, sampled infusions of skullcap and nettles and downed at least 4 servings of various hot and cold herbal teas. And it sounds like there are amazing activities going on all week long — the distillation of hemlock over a wood fire, the chance to experience a wide range of David's aromatherapy oils, and the making of herbal honey and infused abhyanga oil just to name a few that I'm sad I have to miss in order to return to work.

We'll do many of these things and more over the course of the next 5 months, but how can one not feel a little envious of those who get to immerse themselves at the farm for a full week-long experience!

The majority of the people in the intensive seemed to be coming from out-of-state, and many of them were staying as guests at houses within walking distance of the farm (and creating an interesting little local economy in the process!) As I arrived in the morning they were meandering up the tree-lined dirt road, commenting about how beautiful and peaceful the area is, delighted that, for example, their hosts had picked fresh strawberries for pancakes that morning, and that there were farm animals to meet (like crazy-looking runner ducks, and donkeys). It made me very happy to live here, if it's possible to be any happier about it than I already was.

Remember the vibrant nettles of spring? They are about half their size now after being harvested, and amazingly they've already been garbled, dried, and bagged up and are now ready to complete their healing, nourishing, dharma...what an amazing plant!

Skullcap in the garden, ready for harvest.

And skullcap infusion, a nervine, ready to be sampled.

Saint Brigids Cemetery

The past 4 days have been a whirlwind of activity, a whirlwind that I expect will only build as the summer progresses. However, before I run off to the farm, it's time to do a little catching up!

On Friday J took me to this beautiful graveyard in Hadley to show me a statue he'd discovered there...

"Simply to thy cross I cling" reads the inscription at the top of the white stone crucifix.

I find it amazing to think of the artistry that once went in to memorial stones like this one,

slowly wearing away with time. As everything does.

An interesting use of negative space.

"Life is only as good as you make it. So live it as great as you can take it."

Some graveyards don't allow plantings at individual plots, but here there was a wide variety of life blooming and rambling among the stones,

and in some cases, on the stones, in the form of lichen and moss.

This was a gorgeous pink quartz memorial stone, carved by nature herself.

Life begets life.