Saturday, December 7, 2013

Winter treasures

How are you holding up with this cold weather? This morning I drove the better half to a class at the Textile Center on University Avenue while I was on my way to take pictures at the volunteer painting session at the Dynamic Green Home. (Pictures and short description will be posted at DGH on Monday.) It's been so cold that the tire low air pressure warning came on in my Subaru. Apparently I'm not the only one to have this experience. (And by the way, St. Paul should be ashamed of itself for the condition of its ice-covered roads.) Anyhow, I finished up at DGH and went back to collect my passenger. I got to the Center a little early so I went in to explore. The have some interesting pieces and some that I'm just in awe of. Here's a series of iPhone camera pictures of the current exhibition in their Studio room. The subject matter, design and execution all left me pleased that I took the time to explore one of My Minnesota's treasures here-to-fore hidden from me.

Ojibwe Wisdom Rug at Minnesota Textile Center
Wisdom Rug     © harrington
© harrington
birch pattern coat at Minnesota Textile Center
 Birch Pattern      © harrington
tree of life and felt rocks at Minnesota Textile Center
tree of life, felt rocks, oak wisdom    © harrington
Eagle Rug at Minnesota Textile Center
Eagle Rug    © harrington
© harrington
Oak Wisdom Blanket at Minnesota Textile Center
© harrington
© harrington


And Mary Oliver helps us find beauty in the cold and snow.

White-Eyes

By Mary Oliver
In winter
    all the singing is in
         the tops of the trees
             where the wind-bird

with its white eyes
    shoves and pushes
         among the branches.
             Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,
    but he's restless—
         he has an idea,
             and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings
    as long as he stays awake.
         But his big, round music, after all,
             is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.
    In the pine-crown
         he makes his nest,
             he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,
    I only imagine his glittering beak
         tucked in a white wing
             while the clouds—

which he has summoned
    from the north—
         which he has taught
             to be mild, and silent—

thicken, and begin to fall
    into the world below
         like stars, or the feathers
               of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,
    that is asleep now, and silent—
         that has turned itself
             into snow.

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Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Enjoy the season. Stay warm.