six months

I was going to go for a walk, but it started pelting cold little raindrops on me before I got to the end of the driveway. So I took this photograph and came back inside:IMG_0625

I saw two moths in the studio a couple of weeks ago. Neither of them ended up in the trap. I’m not sure what to make of that. I hope they’re not a sign of an impending moth population explosion.

five months | four months | three months

two months | one month | the beginning

four months

Four months since I hung this little “birdhouse” in the lilac bush. Obviously, there are no birds living in it. I did see a big fat spider in there one morning, but that day was too windy for me to get a picture.


You can see that it’s been picked at, though. I like to think that some of the wool that’s been pulled out has gone into birds’ nests.


three months


Three months since I hung this little sculpture in the lilac bush. It looks about the same to me as it did last month.

It has been hot this month, which makes the studio unappealing. I have been working on my social life instead, which feels mostly exhausting and weird (with occasional pockets of deeply rewarding).

I recently complained to someone that the internet is making my head feel like ten pounds of other people’s opinions in a five-pound sack, which means you won’t be seeing much of me on Facebook.

I’m starting to work my way through Lynda Barry’s Syllabuswhich has me making lists every day of things I did and things I saw. Here are today’s lists:


  • software updates (ugh)
  • took a nap
  • went for a walk
  • Notebook Club with Julie and Sam
  • picked up trash in the park
  • killed a bunch of ants on my sofa
  • made a mushroom risotto


  • piece of black foam like a giant liquorice allsort lying by the side of the road
  • rabbit prints in the driveway
  • a woman tying her leopard print scarf across her face as she waited to cross the street
  • Sam’s bird dance
  • Julie’s orange pants
  • a groundhog racing into the knotweed by the river
  • a hummingbird investigating the foxgloves


two months


As you can see, there’s lots more rust than there was last month.

And what have I up to, while my little sculpture has been busily rusting?

– Killing bugs. I have become a Bug Killing Machine. In addition to the ongoing moth issues in my studio, there are carpenter ants in the southwest corner of my house. I hear them in the living room ceiling, chewing and chewing and chewing. It’s an awfully big noise for such small creatures. The walls have been injected with poison, and I have contractors lined up to take the house apart and deal with the rot (carpenter ants love rotting wood) later this summer.

– Cleaning the mouse smells out of my car. Nature’s Miracle has become one of my favorite things ever.

– Regular vigorous walks.  Also squats and lunges and push-ups, oh my.

– Exploring materials other than wool for my next sculpture

– Trying, as always, to find a balance between solitude and connection.

a month

Dave and I went to Alaska for a couple of weeks. I didn’t take many pictures during the trip. The experience defied my limited photographic abilities and my grasp of language.

We came home to a mountain of mail, a very clingy cat, and a car that reeks of dead mouse. There’s no more snow on the ground. Lilacs are blooming. Mornings and evenings, I can hear a wood thrush singing in the nearby woods.

Last month I hung a small sculpture from one of our lilac bushes. The wire is starting to rust, and the wool appears to have been picked at by birds looking for nesting material. Here is what it looks like now:




Yesterday I drove down to Attleboro to deliver some of my work to the museum for the upcoming show, and I had a big moment of squee when I saw the sign in the parking lot.

I was anxious about dropping off my girls, but my knees stopped shaking when I met Mim (executive director of the museum) and saw Adrienne’s work in the gallery waiting to be installed.

Now I’m just super-excited about the opening (Saturday April 13th, 2 to 4).

I’ve got postcards!  Let me know if you want one.