I’ve had so many thoughts about how I wanted to introduce this project. Some good, some awkward and some just messy. It’s all so personal. This project is basically me. It’s life, from the perspective of a 48 year old woman who is entering the early autumn of her life. I am the crone. The cabin represents my home, deeply saturated in nature and surrounded by the unseen world. What do I mean by that term, unseen world? For me, it’s the lives of all the creatures surrounding me. It’s the squirrel in it’s nest, the frog in its pond and all the birds in their houses. All of the potential dinner times and mornings. The families. These are all experiences I assign. They are pure fantasy…but it’s what I would wish for every living being. Love, safety, adventures and a home.
That being said, its going to get weird. Nothing will be to “scale”. Nothing will feel as it should, mostly. What you will experience is what I am envisioning in the moment. When my world is overcome in frog song, you’ll know it. When the robins have closed in on my sanctuary, you’ll know that too. I’m going to share as much as possible, in real time.
There is no general purpose to this project, other than to document this time of my life. To try and make something positive out of a challenging personal transformation.
Here on Pigeon Hill, spring comes slowly and then all at once. I’ve still got plenty of wintering to do. I’ll share updates, as they occur, here and on social media.
The first installment will feel underwhelming. Its winter. I really want to introduce the little glass cottage and the format. I am still working on landscaping elements that I will keep adding.
Right now, the turkeys are everything. My visiting rafter is usually around 12-13. I feed them a succulent mix of black sunflower seeds and corn. And I sing to them. The “Turkey Turkey Gobble Gobble” song lets them know that I am out tending to their demands. I can occasionally feel them looking at me from a small copse of trees. When I am out of the picture, they come creeping out. Awkward and gangly. Like a prehistoric creature. Not really beauty queens from the neck up, but their feathers are stunning. They are mostly timid and charming, with giant feets. I did a small re-creation of them in fused glass. Or a few of them, at least.
We’ve had a thaw recently, so the ground is peeking out here and there. The creeks are so swollen with rain and snow melt. March is tricksy and false. More snow is coming, I’m sure. I fused a few igloos to represent the wintery conditions. I’d love to get an ice block mold and build my own next winter.
The nights are still long and cold. My woodstove runs like a top and (in my mind) is elemental to my survival. I don’t have cable or internet so it’s either a book, DVD or I download something to my ipad before I leave town. I’ve been revisiting a lot of older movies, including the whole Rambo franchise. This is where the crone appears in 14 layers of clothing, cooking meat on the woodstove and watching John Rambo elude platoons of skilled assassins. It’s an enviable existence.
Thanks for reading and welcome to The Year of the Crone.
