Monday, March 19, 2012


Firewheel
(Indian Blanket)
Photo taken 17 March 2012, Austin, Texas

Saturday, February 25, 2012










I've started a new blog called The Ravens Map. It's still in progress; I haven't quite got the template set up as I'd like, but it's viewable at this time in a simple format.

I'm posting a haiku here to night - I think I started this blog with haiku! Thank you for visiting Firewheel...

She plants seeds;
she scrapes black earth
with a silver fork.
Bees go
hum hum hum

Friday, February 24, 2012










Each one of the thousands of species of birds in the world is its own marvel, a puzzle completed. Even those of us with little interest in birds know how varied in appearance they can be: their sizes and shapes, the colors of their feathers. (A 4-year-old knows the difference between a duck and a penguin.) But many of us have never learned how their behavior patterns are dramatically different. The way they fly, if they fly. What they eat; what, when, and how they sing. Each species has its own eggs design. Each species has its own nest design, each nest requiring specific building materials.

We humans have the joy of discovering the intricacies of each sacred puzzle, what makes every colorful species complete, and unique.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Zilker Garden, Austin, Texas
January 2012










'I don't want to be in this abstract painting no more. I want to be someplace real.'

'Maybe this is an exit out...'

'Y'think?'

'Oh, nooooo!'

'What's the matter?'

'Wrong exit.'

Monday, February 20, 2012

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras,the last day to enjoy being naughty before lent begins. My parents grew up in New Orleans, possibly the gravitational center of Mardi Gras in the United States. Somewhere there is a photo of my mother in the 1930s with her schoolmates on a daytime parade float. My dad when he returned from WWII in 1946 took movies of a nighttime parade in New Orleans. The floats, now automated, were still pulled by mules draped in festive blankets and head coverings. He says that the mules were those used by the city for garbage collection throughout the year, but were loaned out for special duty during Mardi Gras season. The parades were lit by torches called flambeaus carried by costumed men who walked alongside the floats. Dad says the torches are quite heavy, containing canisters of lamp oil in the top of each to fuel the light.

Mardi Gras is a big deal in southern Louisiana for all ages. There is a photo of my mom at about age 8, dressed as a sailor. Next to her is her little sister, the gypsy. There's a picture of my dad as a toddler pirate, and one of me and my sister in the late 1950s as preschool cowgirls, packing miniature leather holsters with little silver pistols. I was a princess in a children's carnival in 4th grade. I remember after the presentation of the princes and princesses to the carnival king and queen, we sat on gym bleachers near the high school band, and I heard real trumpets for the first time. They sounded so wistful and heart-piercing.

A friend from my parents' generation recalls that after the parades and Mardi Gras balls, the women, dressed in their elegant sequined gowns, would drift into church after midnight to attend the first service for Ash Wednesday before going home to bed. The same service was attended by fishermen in their homely gear, ready to head to their boats for work before the sun rose. This curious spiritual meeting, a brief romantic synchrony, was called Fisherman's Mass.

Sunday, February 19, 2012














I took these pics of the Loop 360 bridge in Austin, Texas on February 3rd, 2012. I feel small beneath it, and amazed at its existence.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Sunday, February 12, 2012


light between each molecule
between each note of a birdsong
light between each breath
between the left hand
and the right

Saturday, February 11, 2012









(This adds up to six paper napkins - does that make me a collector?)

Friday, February 10, 2012


I made this bit of computer art close to ten years ago, trying to recreate images from dreams. It seems rather face-like now, though that wasn't evident to me in the process of its creation.

The human face is the first thing we learn to distinguish visually as infants.

The summer of 1973, I took a child development course at USL - University of Southwestern Louisiana, now University of Louisiana - Lafayette. A large portion of the class was focused on human infancy and infant perception. When we are first born, we see an abstract melee of colors and shapes in motion. We can't yet discriminate one object from another, a person from a thing, a dog from a big brother. We don't even have the motor coordination yet to track and focus very well!

Gradually, with experience, our brain, hungry for puzzles, learns to recognize the separateness of things, and eventually to recognize their identities.

The professor - I think her name was Thomas - taught us about research on visual perception that had been done with infants. The researchers found that there are some visual schemes that capture even a newborn's attention for a second or two, in particular, patterns that resemble the human face.

As infants, we are rewarded when we are held and a face looms large above us. We see the face, we turn toward it and find ourselves warmed against our parent's chest. We hear the familiar sound of heartbeat. We find food that satisfies our thirst and hunger. This instinct and early learning permit us to live long enough to get some basic motor and sensory skills, long enough to learn to feed ourselves. We pay attention when a face emerges from the chaos, anticipating love.

The pattern or template of 'face' is imbedded within us from the start, and holds our fascinated attention throughout life.

Thursday, February 9, 2012






These fabric samples again are from my mother-in-law who made carry bags in many colors and sizes. I don't know how old the fabric is, only that it's likely she sewed this in the 1970s.

It wasn't until last year that I became aware of the frequency of cartoon faces in clouds and trees. If you follow this blog, you may have noted some of the photos where amusing characters are easy to see. The human brain likes to connect the dots, to fill in the blanks to make something recognizable.

Sometimes that isn't even necessary. Nature provides us with textured images that fill us with awe. (Perhaps nature provides us with the occasional gremlin as well!) As we take photos more and more often with cell phones and little digital cameras, we are amazed when we see we captured more than the kids and the family dog.

I now see evidence of natural cartoons in paintings from centuries past, in flowers and in leaves on the sidewalk, in people's hair, and in the wrinkles in their clothing. There are many layers to human perception, and many layers to our reality. Our brains become trained to spot (and perhaps to create) the images, just as we learn to recognize fossils and arrowheads camouflaged in a creek bed.

I find them in fabric like this, and trust if you look carefully, you too might see hidden visitors in these photos.
Note: The beautiful art on the paper napkins in yesterday's post is not mine. These are commercial, printed napkins that have come my way at restaurants and visiting friends.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012












paper flowers blooming
in a paper napkin dream

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


the sidewalk
tilts,
the cars
fume;
a riot of yellow
in bad-ass bloom

Monday, February 6, 2012

















This quilt is a treasure that was given to me by my birth mom who I didn't meet until I was 45 years old. The quilt was made by her mother (my grandmother), Deora Ann Myers Aycock, around 1950. The patches on the quilt are of fabric from my birth mom's childhood clothes, which is very touching to me. Equally wonderful is the back of the quilt, hand stitched in red and made from flour sacks dyed pink. (You can see the word 'Enriched' in the second photo.)

Sunday, February 5, 2012






















These fabrics are from aprons my mother-in-law made.

Saturday, February 4, 2012






















Another find in the process of moving: a Luther Travis tablecloth from my mother-in-law. This probably dates back to the late 1950s or early 1960s.