stacks of things.

yesterday’s work was of wood and stone and sweat and wheelbarrow.

it was supposed to be only of stone and sweat and wheelbarrow, but then the big tree in the backyard dropped a limb.

my neighbor gave me a more than a ton of quartzite to use for a path i’ve been dreaming up. in exchange, i gave her gift cards for massage. i grew up watching my parents barter (eggs for milk, pigs for sheep) and building that sort of economy makes sense on so many levels of community & love & flexibility & fairness.

on the day she stopped by to offer the stone (left over from a project of her own), i had been on the phone with quarries, pricing it out. she knew nothing of my plans for a path. she simply offered what i needed at the exactly perfect time.

i don’t think that’s coincidence, since i’m pretty sure coincidence is more of a magic, or an energy, or a cosmic synchronicity related to a form of physics i do not grasp, or something else that is hard to speak of without sounding like a total new age weirdo. but it’s real! it’s never accidental. this i know (or maybe just choose to believe because life seems neato when i do).

here’s a picture of me, beside a woodpile, in falltime nearly thirty years ago. (is that a roach clip in my hair? mom!?)  i still love sweet men in plaid jackets with axes.



4 thoughts on “stacks of things.

  1. Yup! that would be a roach clip…funny. I am happy to say that I am happy lumber jackets are back. My lumber jacket and a pair of Greb Kodiaks and I was pretty much set to go anywhere..Julie

    • i love them, too! reading your reply i was thinking about how i am often the one in the lumber jacket with the axe these days, as well. yay, ladies working hard! xo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s