Lost Arts studio

A lot of the fiber arts I enjoy are things like tatting, netmaking, chair caning, and even weaving, where people will come up to me when I demonstrate and solemnly tell me, "That's a lost art."

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Location: SW Outer Nowhere, Michigan, United States

On the Internet, nobody knows you're a chicken. (With apologies to Peter Steiner.)

10 January 2009

a great abundance of the things that are truly valuable

I stole plagiarized, er, borrowed this excellent title from Dale-Harriet's New Year's wish.

And now I have no idea how to write a post to live up to it. But I know what we have a great abundance of.

We are getting more snow, and here again is my famous ditch with the little flowing creek in the very bottom of it.

Here is the lovely road I live on. It is paved. It has been plowed.

The photo is not blurry. It is just snowing.

It is also not windy. Big puffs of snow build up on the branches of the spruce trees.

And along the branches of mulberry and other trees.

When I come back to the house after taking a walk, this is my path. Usually the pine branches are above my head. Today I bent over and shuffled into this space sheltered from the snow.

At the end of the sheltered part of the path is this gate. Sometimes when snow builds up on things, it turns into straight hats like on the gatepost. Other times it acts like melting wax and droops and curls.

I haven't moved my Honda Fit since Friday morning. (We picked up our son from school in my husband's car and did some errands, so my car stayed at home.)

And now I am back by the main door of our house and the big old country mailbox we have there. This is an old hand-me-down mailbox made of heavy galvanized steel, about 16 inches tall and 24 inches deep. If they still make these any more, I haven't seen them for sale. Most of our mail is delivered to our box down by the road, but sometimes we get the odd large parcel in this one.

The snow is now about 18 inches (over 45 cm) deep. Again.

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Blogger TinkingBell said...


It's been a while since I dropped by - and you're buried in snow. I always find it fascinating that just as we creep into summer, you are wintersodden!

happy New year - I'll take summer photos to help thaw you!

8:40 PM  
Blogger Bells said...

Holy crap! That's some serious snow. Thank you so much for the tour. I want to be there so much to experience that. I really do.

The photos of the creek are my favourite.

5:22 AM  
Blogger Roxie said...

I think of snow as water in the bank. Here in the northwest, we get through the summer on the water from a slowly melting snowpack in the mountains. And in the high desert, most of the water makes it in as snow, then melts into the aquifer. Is heavy snow good for you that way, or is it just a precursor to dreadful flooding?

10:29 AM  
Blogger Geek Knitter said...

Oh goodness. I must say that's a bit much. I live a bit further south from Roxie, and we don't get much snow on the valley floor. We are generally paralyzed, or at least slowed down to a snail's pace.

It sure looks pretty though...

11:55 AM  
Blogger amy said...

Thanks for taking us on your walk with you. And thanks for the reminder. I like your title, even if it is borrowed/stolen/plagiarized!

12:04 PM  
Blogger Knitting Linguist said...

Now that is an embarrassment of riches! I love the mailbox -- we had one like that growing up. As I recall, we once put my brother inside it...

7:26 PM  
Anonymous Deborah (aka Mt. Mom) said...

Great job capturing the snow on the branches. I try, and seldom get such good results.

2:03 AM  
Blogger catsmum said...

I know that snow is a pain to live with but from this distance it looks beautiful and ethereal and delicate.
Do you want to swap for the 37C/99F degree day I'm having here ??
If we could meet somewhere in the middle that would be perfect, eh ?

4:24 AM  

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