Erka+Days

I watched seven sand hill cranes arrow across the morning sky, crinking my neck to watch them as long as possible through the spattered windshield, I slowed to a bird watching 20 mph in a hot second with out glanicng to see if someone was right behind me on my two lane. Their heads are a nice arrow wedge in flight, their necks stretch out as long as their legs, lending to a nice balance. Regal, yet dorky, cranes are not as spectacular in flight as they are on the ground doing their crane dance. But as early morning excitement goes, cranes are a good sign. This after seeing a flash of orange on the road, upon closer inspection, I realized that it was a robin, red breast up in the road. Those kamakazi robin dives are not always timed so well it seems.

I created an erk version of pho last night. not too bad really. Amazing what spices blend into. Star anise, cinnamon, fennel, corriander, lime, dried scallops, fish sauce, ginger. I tweeted the erk pho and a virtual tweet fest developed over the recipe, the source and the ingredients. @saveurmag to the rescue. Sparrow the butcher, put me in the beef bone soup broth mode.

Fantasy #64, to sell my hand spun to folks that want to knit it into some goodness. I have been dying fiber, usually 2 – 4 oz bumps at a time that somehow in my imagination compliment each other in some manner. I dye, spin, ply, wash, hang to dry. Then the naming. gah. It is a process. I plan on getting at least 10 yarns up on etsy in the LuckyHeronStudios studio in the very near future.

As we walked the river sunday morning, I watched the birds flash in and out as I watched my toes in boots advance step by step. Cardinals, chickadees, robins, the first red wings, geese, swans, mallards. I will be dying up a few of the above in their honor. Just to have a place to begin. A pallet to paint from. The early spring dun color of the Mitten is splashed with bird color. The river flows fast.

Uncle John and Rose have moved their belongings to their new home above the river. Pop went to the help move while I sat with the spinners.
We went to Grange with John and Rose for dinner. It was very good dinner. The plates were licked clean.

Boomba says “lupo, izza, shoes”. Isabella is growing cheeks, and is very alert, she smiles. We skyped for 2 hours on sunday. A photo of the babyElla sleepin with one hand above her head was uploaded by Fede that almost killed this long distance Nonna.

Uncle John Chipman has had another stroke which has intensified his dementia and is now in hospital/care facility. A massive huge decision for them to make. Patti can no longer safely manage his level of care giving required. A collective sigh for their/our aging. Upon reading the emails, Pop in his silent method of dealing with things, woke up in the 3am hour to read and eat and pace. Hereditary, yes.

The left hand has new callouses on four fingers. The mandolin, her strings mark my tips. I pick out in scales up and down the neck. loosing myself in the notes.

I have very barely planned for the rehearsal dinner or the things we need for when Italy arrives in July. Tamales, a piñata, wine beer, music.

I am gearing up for the 1 year anniversary of my Mother’s passing. Her gifted amaryllis blooms its heart out as we speak as it did on the nursing wing, in her honor.

What a treat to write it all down. Have not done so in weeks, months, almost a year.