kathryn clark

January 18th, 2012

Kathryn Clark has been working on a series of quilts that map foreclosed properties in communities across the US. The quilts are beautiful and graphic in their simplicity, while also being filled with meaning.

Albuquerque Foreclosure Quilt

Each little hole in the fabric, each block of color represents a lost home, and all the grief and hopelessness that comes with it. I feel like I understand the housing crisis much better by looking at one of these quilts than I do by reading endless articles.

Detroit Foreclosure Quilt

You can see many more of her quilts and read an explanation of the project in Kathryn’s own words on her blog.


January 12th, 2012

I was wondering where to start up again after a long break from the blog, then I was given this magnet.


Right. Anywhere is good.


November 22nd, 2011

Upstate apples in Brooklyn

apples Upstate

it’s still october, right?

October 31st, 2011

Last week saw the first frost of the season,

first frost

first frost

followed immediately by a blizzard.

snowing in October

Too soon, too much, too weird! I want to register a complaint, but I’m not sure who with. And anyway, I’m finding myself resigned to it being winter already.

snow in October


September 22nd, 2011

city traffic

dog & sunflowers


September 14th, 2011

Yesterday I had the door open and all day in the background was the sound of leaves rustling across the ground. Labor Day brought with it the orange undertone that creeps into everything green. Even the light is getting that low angled rust color to it and the squirrels and I are rushing to hoard the end of summer bounty.


In among tomatoes of every shape and size, the first little Benning’s Patty Pan squash. Fresh light green, to remind me that in the not too distant future it will all start over with spring.


September 2nd, 2011

I was talking to my friend V about all sorts of things: the meaning of life, mandalas, colored pencils…

A couple of hours later she sent me a picture of this amazing 13th century field structure, near Montady in France. And it made me think of the meaning of life, mandalas, and colored pencils.

colored pencils


September 1st, 2011

Irene blew through here and we were without power and water for a couple of days.

power out

We were lucky compared to many, but we did get a little swimming pool in the basement, so there’s been some throwing out of damaged things, and a lot of laying stuff out to dry.

drying hardware

Being without hot water for four days sure makes me grateful for my shower now that it’s back.

right on time

August 25th, 2011

My stash of frozen tomato sauce was parsed out over the winter and spring, and I defrosted the last jar just as the new tomato crop started to color.

last of last year's sauce


I want more jars of sauce in the freezer this winter, and planted twice as many tomato plants, but we’ll see how many tomatoes get into the sauce pot once leaf spot diseases and tomato sandwiches have had their way.

Thank goodness there’s always the local farm stand.


August 21st, 2011

Mornings are the low point of my day. I have wisps of dreams and their strange worlds left in my mind and it takes me a while to get going. The best approach is to move slowly, and to “take the day gentle”. When I do, I notice things. Moments of light. Subtle, constant changes that bring me into the current moment.

shadow - water glass

shadow - hops plant

Seems the shadows aren’t only in my head, but moving all around me.