Cup of Bliss and Snapping Sails

I have heard it said that a danger in songwriting is when your songs become too personal, too autobiographical. I can understand why that could be; I have written some songs at low points that, while very good, I'm not ready to share. When you're a sensitive songwriter-poet, one rocky spell, one terribly sad day, can send a song onto your pages that doesn't really represent your life. Some day I will share those songs, but not now. The "Wow. My Honey!" songs actually do represent my life, and I'm sharing those now. 

Cup of Bliss by Harper Meader

My song, Cup of Bliss, is an exception in a way, because it alludes to having trouble together. The line, "I don't know where we'll be tomorrow" really needs to be there, if only because it's true (and I know people deeply in love can relate) that my greatest fear is losing my Honey. What is also true, but couldn't be worked into the song, is that I know with my whole being that I can only be with Her going forward, or alone. More than anything, the song is about how as a poet I feel the depth and mystery of the world moving within me, demanding that I write it down somehow, that I sing it. Finding love has woken that side of me up in a way that I'm still coming to grips with. For me, the most powerful line, referring to a transformative dream that I will never forget, is "I'll keep my seat, the tiller-handle tightly held while the current rages."

The title, Cup of Bliss, is in fact a deliberate echo of Amos Lee, who is a major inspiration to me. My song is not really on-topic with his song, Cup of Sorrow, but that phrase has worked into my head far enough that it has become an important inner symbol of mine. It's hard to put into words, but the way we experience our world with those close to us is a cup that we drink together, and what kind of cup it is becomes an essential part of our shared experience. I'm truly blessed to share a cup of bliss.

For the musicians, I play this in standard tuning with the capo on two. Chords are Amaj7, A, E, Asus2, A7, and Ddim. I very much enjoy working with clustered chords that move together easily, and this set is very good that way.

 - - - - -

Snapping Sails by Harper Meader

When I first started playing mumblety-summat years ago, the music I most wanted to play was that of Gordon Bok, Stan Rogers, and Gordon Lightfoot. Whales and sails, hauling nets, hardened tars, schooners, clippers, sea-foam...oh, the language of sailing is so evocative, gut-level imagery for someone like me, with sailing in my genes! 

One day when I was practicing my way through all the love-songs that have come to me me recently, my Honey said, "You know, Harper, you really should write a sailing song since you love the sea so much..." I just nodded at the time, but one day at work, maybe a week later, Snapping Sails came to me, all in one sitting, and I like it very much. Of course, true to form, by the end of it, it's another love-song; I just can't help myself.

For the musicians, this one is dead easy. Standard tuning, using Am, F, Dm, G, and C. At the end of the chorus you'll need to do a little "add4" to the C chord with your pinky, and that's it. I play it two-fingered, but it strums well too.

Cordwood Masonry Acoustics

As I wrote last time, I'm excited (me, Mr. Mellow, excited, yup!) about the final appearance of some of my recorded music. Actually, 'excited' doesn't cover it; I'm having a hard time thinking about anything else, except for that new song I'm working on, which may be even better. The physical CDs just arrived, sounding great, and the cover art (photo by my Honey) came out perfectly. Since I can't think about anything else right now, I'm going to elaborate on this recording project.

Music from a cordwood masonry mead-hall!

I've been writing music for a long time, and in the last couple of years, after falling in love with my Honey, that creative impulse has just skyrocketed. Finding that my heart is where it belongs, finally, has been amazingly good for my writing and composing.

 Months ago I asked my friend James Lindenschmidt of Crafted Recordings, who has all kinds of recording expertise, for pointers about getting some recording done. To my delight, he offered to help out, volunteering his considerable skills, at least in part because he had been wanting to try some recording in our house. The mead-hall, our central room with twelve-foot-plus ceilings, cordwood walls, and an adjoining space with gracefully curved walls, has great acoustic qualities. 

His version of this may be different, but here's why I think the space is so good for music. Cordwood masonry is not flat. It has a combination of very hard and somewhat hard surfaces, curves, and little angled segments all over it. So while it bounces sound nicely (compared to a curtained room, for example), it doesn't sound at all like a tiled space or a stairwell, with that complicated echo on top of everything. Not only that, but it is a magical space, made by hand with love, using natural local materials, and it is the perfect place for me to record my music. After all, it's where I write most of it, and it's where my Honey and I first met. Unless somebody tells me otherwise, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this is the first professional music recording in a cordwood masonry space!

James and I have much in common, including acoustic music, a similarly spiritual way of living in the world and a long-standing love of mead and mead-brewing. My first experience with his recording expertise was when he interviewed me years ago for his excellent blog, Bardic Brews. Back then, he made me feel very much at ease in front of a microphone, and this time was no different, except that it involved more microphones! Then he put in many hours fine-tuning everything for me. The end result is a very good presentation of my and my songwriting at its current best, and I can't say enough about how sweetly he worked with the very raw material. Please check out the music, which is downloadable from most mainstream venues, as Harper Meader's EP, "Honey."

Coming up, I'll talk in detail about some of the songs in particular, and also about why I like Bandcamp. Stay tuned...

Long Time Coming

Check out my (at last!) recording at bandcamp.com

I guess you may have noticed, if you are a regular reader of mine, that I have been absent for way too long. Sorry about that! Here's what's going on...

A long-time friend of mine, James Lindenschmidt of Bardic Brews and Crafted Recordings, offered to help me with some recording. I have been a musician for my whole adult life, playing folk harp, fingerstyle guitar, hammered dulcimer, and an assortment of other instruments, but in the recent past my songwriting went into overdrive, fed by the life changes that came with falling deeply in love. Happily, my musicianship has kept pace with my heart and my writing aspirations, and I have a steadily-growing collection of really good songs to show for it! 

I went into overdrive, consulting with my Honey about which were the best songs to break out with, practicing like mad, making sure I had the words just the way they should be...and new songs kept intruding! But eventually, just a couple of weeks ago, Jim came to Ironwood Hollow, toting all sorts of esoteric equipment, and Honey left us to our own devices. He told me that he has always wanted to try recording in our home, with its very unique acoustics that come from the cordwood masonry, the high ceilings, and the curved walls. 

Long story as short as possible, we had about three hours of good recording time all to ourselves, and in that time we recorded six of my songs. For each of them, I played my solo arrangement and sang at the same time, then went back and recorded a harmony track and a second guitar track in some cases. The one that sticks in my mind the most is when I said, "Jim, let me just hear the tune, and I'll play through the lead guitar, and see if I remember how it goes..." When I was finished, he just said, "Oh yeah, I was recording; that's great. What's next?" 

Six songs of spiritual love recorded in a cordwood masonry meadhall!

It was that kind of session. Jim's knowledge of recording and innate calm made it a pure pleasure. Followed by many hours of his skilled time mixing and mastering, one of the finest gifts I've ever received, this session has turned into an EP of a small sampling of my recent music. (An EP is an extended play, several songs, but not long enough to be called a CD). I have been working my way through the process of making the songs available, now that Jim has declared the tracks finished. Actual CDs are in process, and I'll post details about that when it's all set up. In the meantime, harpermeader.bandcamp.com is where to go to hear them. I hope you will purchase all or some of them for download! Bandcamp offers music affordably, with the option of paying anywhere from a minimum up to what you feel the music is worth. They will appear in the other usual venues shortly (itunes, amazon, etc), as that process does its thing. 

The changes in my life and my heart that my Honey has brought to me are only hinted at in these songs, but I am so pleased to be able to share a bit of that joy with you. There will be more, since I've determined to make songwriting a major part of my future. Stay tuned. Among these songs you will find a steamy celebration of midsummer loving (Magic in the Moonlight), a rousing sailing song (Snapping Sails), the perfect tune for when you're storm-stayed with your love (Snowdrift Love), a partial-capoed pattern-picked epic-love-song for the guitarists among us, with a nod to the great love-poet, Rumi, (The Glassblower's Breath), and more.

I hope that you like my work. My hope is that this project will fund the next recording, and that my love of music, words, spirit, life, and my Honey will become something more than a hobby, that it will bring a piece of that joy that is my life into the homes of many.

Okay, a final note...anywhere else you find my songs, they're likely to cost about the same, but at bandcamp, you get the lyrics for free, and you can hear the whole song right there before you decide to part with a dollar or two. Also, just sayin'...as one of my blog-readers, you know where to find me. If you play, and want to know my chords, or get a hint about the picking patterns that I use, you know where to find me. 

Songwriting Takes Me Over

You may have noticed that I've been quiet lately, and I apologize for that. One of the reasons is that I have been plowing what creative time I have into my songwriting. A good friend has offered to help me record three or so songs, and I have been working like crazy at polishing up my best five (or so) songs to prepare for that. The trouble is that Love and the Muse, encouraged by the remarkable love story that is my life now, keep sending me off to write more songs, and what I think of as my top five songs keeps changing!

My fervent wish to express my feelings and experiences in a way that touches hearts, that may even brighten somebody's world, has pushed my musical ability to new heights, which after many years of being fairly intermediate is a very pleasant surprise. Inspired by the likes of Amos Lee, Ray LaMontagne, K.D. Lang, Jack Johnson, Gregory Alan Isakov, and a few others, I'm writing music that would have been impossible for me two years ago. So when James, my recording friend, gets me set up, I think the results will be very good indeed.

Just for a sneak preview, Honey and I have decided almost for sure which songs are in the top three. The first one is a love song written back when we had very little time together. One night I wrote the words in my head while lying awake wishing dawn would never come, because she would have to leave. It's unabashedly emotional, grateful, wishing for the moment to never end. Partial lyrics are:

"Beloved love, wake to me!
I hear you speaking in your dreams,
Asking all the spirits 'round us
Why does dawn come?
Every time I wake to find you
Sleepy-eyed, my arms around you,
Waiting for your gaze to find mine,
I thank them!"

Number two was written last summer, when I was looking forward to having my Honey move in with me, imagining that we would be snowed in here in the Maine woods together, the inexorable, beautiful drift-building weather a powerful metaphor for the way our relationship has only become more beautiful over time. It's very "Mainish," even using one of my favorite local words, 'dooryard.' Partial lyrics are:

"That's the way our love grows,
Building slowly like these all-night snows.
Underneath it all, just like our dooryard,
Never changing since I fell so hard
For you, that's what you do to my heart!"

Number three is recent. I have always loved sailing songs. I imagine my sailing ancestors whispering to my soul that the sea is calling, that I should follow in their salty footsteps somehow. Maybe this song will satisfy them. Like nearly all of my songs these days, love makes an appearance, but at heart it's a song about the lure of the sea.

"Once I asked the captain what he looked for in his roaming,
He said sometimes he rounds Cape Horn, sailing back from Nome
And then it's all downwind from there until he plants his boots at home,
And that's all he said when I asked why..."

For the moment at least, these are the top contenders, but Love and the Muse keep distracting me with new ideas, and the songs are starting to pile up in my notebooks, about twenty so far. I'm champing at the bit to share them somehow, either by recording myself, or by finding homes for them with good recording artists. At least a few will make an appearance soon, recorded solo at Ironwood Hollow. Stay tuned!

Mud Season Musings

I'm going to start with a confession. My mom, a dyed-in-the-wool Mainer, moved to Florida quite a few years ago, and stayed there for most of the year, only coming home for Christmas and a little bit of the summer. My confession is that, among all the kids and step-kids, I'm the only one who never went to visit. My sister went, and even found parts of Florida that she liked. My step-brothers and step-sisters all went, and more than once. I even sent my daughter down alone on a plane, and she had a nice time. For myself, though, I just knew I would hate Florida.

As an avid reader of mystery novels, you'd think I would love it there, the home of not only Clinton "Skink" Tyree and Marion "Doc" Ford, but also of the father of Florida Tough Guys, Travis McGee. Nope, even that's not enough. The reason that I knew I wouldn't like it is that having a frost is so crazy there that it makes national news. That, and the fact the you could throw a frisbee over its highest point from its lowest point with little effort. Sorry, but this Maine boy likes his seasons, and his hills.

Ironwood Hollow Awaits Spring

Eventually, and sadly long after Mom gave it up and moved back home, I went to Florida for a weekend, and was completely vindicated. It's terrible there, or at least it is for me. The weather was mild, in the fifties, and people kept apologizing for the cold, as though their state was in breach of contract. There are no hills, neither up nor down, and that flatness applies to the weather as well. I couldn't wait to get back home, and will never go there again. That doesn't mean, of course, that I'll stop reading Randy White and Carl Hiaasen! This morning, snuggled in bed with my Honey and watching a drizzle feed the thriving crop of mud that is taking over our dooryard, we were talking about this, and realized that we both have the same prejudice.

Here it is; real, honest-to-god seasons, so that you have to change your wardrobe, either start a fire or open a lot of windows, and adjust to new waves of wildlife that follow those seasons, build character and give a shape to our lives. Yes, of course I get tired of shoveling and snow-blowing, of getting up before dawn to go out and be turned into Frosty while wrestling the old Gravely snowblower up and down our quarter-mile driveway, only to come in and shake life into my frozen fingers in front of a smoky fire. Yes, of course I can't wait for mud season to be over, when I don't know from day to day whether I'll end up frame-deep at the crest of the driveway, needing three men and a come-along to get out. Yes, of course I am ready for fall long before the mosquitoes, blackflies, and deer-flies have gotten tired of bleeding me dry in the hot sun. Absolutely, each season has its time, sometimes more than enough of it, and I keep having to adjust as one gives way to the next.

We can't imagine life without real seasons!

The point of it all, though, is that the process of loving, hating, and adjusting to, each new season is an enormously important part of what makes life interesting. I waited all summer to be able to kick through piles of autumn leaves with my Honey during our first fall season together. Then in the fall we both dreamed of being snowed in together, of watching the trees out the window, sagging under pillows of snow while we stayed snug under covers. Now we're eagerly awaiting that first day that's warm enough to sit on the porch in the sun, maybe with sweaters on. If every week were more or less the same, it would be like living in a house with only one book to read, wouldn't it? The sameness would be stifling. Sledding the car out through the deepening mud this morning, I celebrated in my head, thanking the universe for seasons, for cycles, for the woman who watches just as keenly as I do for that first touch of gold in the willows, then in the forsythia, then for the first north-bound goose, and then...and then...

Happy Mud Season!

Writing and Reading on Paper

Yes, I have been remiss in my blogging. Sorry about that! My excuse is that I haven't had an interesting DIY or cooking project going for a little while, and have instead been busy with things like the water heater not working, the snow needing lots of snowblowing, and similar efforts. The real reason though, if I'm perfectly honest with you, is more complicated, and has to do with this medium, the internet. 

I was just reading a fellow bookseller's blog, and he very intriguingly related books to horses. I think his point was that, even though we have always loved horses and relied upon them, they have been needed far less in the mechanized era, but books have been more resilient in the digital age. That's how it struck me anyway. I enjoyed the post very much, and it got me thinking. I find that once I saw through the glittery show of how much the internet and social media can connect us, bring information to our fingertips, render encyclopedias obsolete, and so on, and realized how thin the experience of digital media is, I am more than ever in love with paper books.

Apple Valley Books in Winthrop Maine

It's not just the books, though. I am more in love with live acoustic music, song from vocal chords, friends to talk to in person, real food on a real plate, and most importantly, love with the woman who shares so many up-close breaths of real air with me. It goes on...chess with Soren at the kitchen table is vastly more rewarding than chess online with strangers. Frisbee or other real outdoor play will beat any online play you can conceive of. Pinterest may show us the most delicious pictures of bacon-wrapped goat-cheese monkey-bread with avocado glaze, or whatever, but the finest thing to cross my palate lately was cooked by my Honey in a real pot on a real stove, and was not shared or liked online. For those who want to know, it was sweet potato and brussels sprouts baked with herbs, bacon, and chevre, but it could have been ANYTHING and beaten out pinterest.

Back to the books though. What I've been doing with my time hasn't been something that shares well on a blog, at least not yet. I've been fine-tuning my song collection with the goal of recording, for one. I have about a half dozen songs that I think are as good as any of my favorite recorded songs, within my musical taste, and will find a way to get them out into the world. Also, I've been writing, a novel, on paper. It's moving along nicely, and I am happy with it. I'm writing in pen on lined notebooks, then revising it just a bit as I type it on the computer. I found my old typewriter, got a ribbon for it, and when I can type out on the porch so as not to deafen everyone in the house, I'll switch to that for my first draft. The relationship between our dreams and imagination, and the physical act of writing down words, is a magical thing that I believe will survive the digital age intact. In this age, it may well be an e-book at least as fast is it can be a paper book, but the book-lover in me hopes that paper copies will be kept and loved for years on good old-fashioned bookshelves by people who live most of their lives away from glowing computer screens.

I'll be back into the blogging, I promise. There are many projects waiting for spring, waiting for the workshop to be warm enough to do carpentry in, waiting for winter to loosen its hold on those of us who live under the snowdrifts until May up here in Maine. In the meantime, get off this computer thing, and go play, write, cook, read, be with your loved ones, eh?

One Last Wish

Satisfied

Satisfied

Copyright Eric Robbins November 21 2012

By the sweat of my Father,                                                        C             Cmaj9   Am                       

And the tears of my mother,                                                     C             Cmaj9    Am

I got no call to be faulting the weather,                                   C             Cmaj9    Am

I’m satisfied…                                                                                G

See those leaves blowing one way,

And that crow flies another.

As long as the two of us are together,

I’m satisfied…

(Chorus) How could I ask for more than I’ve got,                 G            F             C             G           

When each day begins with you?                                              C             F             G

I got my head up in the stars,                                                    G            F             C             G

My feet in the morning dew, and I’ve got you…                    C             F             G            C

The wind blows the world ‘round,

From the treetops and the whitecaps,

But warmed by the fireplace and held in your arms

I’m satisfied…

When I know that you’re coming home,

I’m waiting by the front steps.

We hold each other safe from any harm,

I’m satisfied…

Got a roof to hold the snowfall,

Warm blankets for the frosty chill.

Together we don’t need to fear the deepest frost,

I’m satisfied…

Your heart is my compass rose,

To guide me like the stars at night,

Steering ever homeward where once I wandered lost,

I’m satisfied…

The Season of Thankfulness

Welcome to Ironwood Hollow

We all have family stories that warm our hearts, that remind us of the very best part of our heritage. Here's one of mine. It's short, but I still can't tell it without choking up. My grandfather Arnold died suddenly of a heart attack when I was a young boy. He was a formal, intimidating man to us kids, and unfortunately we never got to know him better than that. Shortly after retiring, he and my Grammy Carrie had almost all of the family, kids, cousins, etc., to their beautiful cottage on the coast of Maine, and that's when he went. It was sudden, and the family has never gotten together again as completely as we did for his funeral that weekend. Her name was the last word he spoke.

A few years ago my mother told me that Grammy Carrie, who outlived him by many years, kept his bedroom slippers under the bed until her own passing. She never loved another. That kind of devotion makes my heart swell with hope for humankind. I just can't think of another way to say it. 

Grammie's memory lives, and not just in the Fiestaware!

One of the ways Grammie Carrie lives on in our family is in our dishware, as odd as that sounds; I remember sitting at her old kitchen table when I visited them as a boy, having breakfast cereal in an original green fiesta bowl. She loved her collection of fiestaware. To this day I can't hold a green piece of fiesta without thinking of her, and a varied assortment of fiesta is what we use for everyday dishware, as well as for special occasions. That table, where Grampy used to keep his feet under the support bar so as to catch any of us kids, or our parents when they were little, who might used it as a footrest (against the rules), was laden with a feast on fiestaware for this Thanksgiving. This year our newly grown family sat around that same table, held hands, said grace, and carried the memory of my Grampy and Grammy forward into a heartwarming, wonderful, new time of our lives.

The connection that struck me in that moment is that I finally understand the devotion that she had for him. Meeting my Honey's eyes at the far end of this table, with our newly blended family connecting us along the length of the big room,  I realized that although times change, love is powerful and enduring. May we all find that one perfect other, the one whose slippers could never be taken out from under the bed. May our children and grandchildren learn from us that such a thing is possible.

Almost Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving I will truly count my blessings!

Love songs by nature are about gratitude, and my latest is no exception. Coming up on Thanksgiving, I feel like a kid before Christmas. Much of my family will meet much of my Honey's family for the first time. I will be a puddle of emotion, there's no doubt, watching her make a banquet hall of our little castle in the woods, seeing our parents watching us both finally be arm in arm with the love that we have always needed, seeing generations come together under the roof of our sheltering home.

We are both keenly feeling the fortune of having our parents still with us, of watching the children move out into the world in their individual ways, of having brothers and sisters who support and love us, whose lives we support with our own love. With all of this swirling around in my heart, I've written another song, one that only scratches the surface of these emotions, but that's okay. It leaves space for more songs, next time I stay up late, lightly playing, while the love of my life, and the kids, sleep peacefully in the Hollow. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

  -Harper

"Satisfied" copyright Eric Robbins November 10, 2012

By the sweat of my father, and the blood of my mother,
I've got no call to be faulting the weather, I'm satisfied...
I see the leaves blowing one way, and that crow flies another.
As long as we two are together, I'm satisfied...

    How could I ask for more than I've got, 
    When each day begins with you?
    Got my head all up among the stars,
    And my feet in the morning dew, and I've got you!

The wind blows the world 'round, see the treetops and the whitecaps.
Warmed by the fireplace, and held in your arms, I'm satisfied...
When I know that you're coming home, I wait by those front steps.
I watch over you, and you keep back the storms, I'm satisfied...

Got a roof to hold the snowfall, heavy blankets for that winter chill.
The two of us are safe against the deep December frost, I'm satisfied...
Your heart is my compass rose, to show the way like the stars at night,
Steering every homeward, though once I wandered lost, I'm satisfied...

On Adversity

Okay, I have been slow to write a new entry here.Things are happening at the Hollow for sure, but something about having kids in the house, bringing pathogens home from school with their homework, has slowed me down a bit...but I've decided that I can type and cough at the same time, so here we go!

Before I get to today's topic of adversity, let me throw a teaser out there. For many years I have cleaned my chimney alone,and every year it has been a "dammit" kind of venture. This year I waited deliberately until after Honey and the kids had moved in, so the boys could have a taste of country living...or so I could get some youthful vigor added to one of the toughest jobs of my year, you decide. Coming soon, I'll write about Sunday's chimney-cleaning adventure, but I want to do it justice, so I will work on that when I don't feel like a virus-ridden dishrag with a breadstick for a spine...

My Honey has been unwell a couple of times since we've joined our lives together, and I've been just thrilled to be able to help. There's a funny thing that happens when independent types try to care for each other, and we've hit all the bases. 

"Honey, I made you some valerian tea with a special tincture, and a salad with lots of bacon..." God, I love puttering in the kitchen so I can bring her some comfort.

"What? Aren't you late for work?" Oh yeah, right, forgot that.

"But I want to take care of you!" More than anything else in the world.

"I'm fine...cough, cough...you don't have to do that...is that chocolate?"

The loveliest trees here are the ones that helped each other through adversity.

And so on. It's funny and beautiful all at once; we're each used to being independent, and at the same time we crave being loved enough to be cared for. So my last words before falling asleep last night were (in between coughs and sniffles) "If I'm better in the morning I'll do some bacon and eggs for the kids." Yeah, right.

Honey's last words were, "Harper, you're sick! Stop that!" And eventually I awoke to find the most wonderful woman in the world waking me up with a tray of coffee, bacon, orange juice, pumpkin bread with chocolate chips, and some ibuprofen. All served with that smile that melts my heart.


All I could think was, "When it's my turn again, how will I top this?" I'm thinking, herbal tea, chocolates, flowers, massage, a troupe of riverdancing rednecks, whatever it takes to care for my woman the way she takes care of her man. Is there anything in life better than this? Hard times come, that's just reality. We get sick, we have career setbacks, we have issues with friends, family, or neighbors, but if we take on all of those things as a team, loving each other past the hurt that any of it brings, then we are living a simply beautiful life. We live a life to be proud of, to look forward to, to awaken to with eagerness and a strong spirit. Then, when the hard times ease up, we are still together, stronger, in love more than ever, with even more reason to live in gratitude.

Joining, Growing, Trusting

Most of my posts so far have been practical. By that I mean that they have been about fitting things together, creating something from disparate parts, paying attention to detail, and so on. This one won't be. It is about intangibles, feelings, magic, belief, and faith. While I have been focusing on the hands-on part of our life in my writing these days, making a room for the girls, cooking with style while keeping it healthy and budget-wise, teaching the boys to build things, and so on, what really drives my life now is less easily defined. 

I can't take a picture of that moment when my Honey's mothering skills wake me up once again to the finer points of parenting, even though I have been raising children for decades. I can't take a picture of the way that a moment of teamwork, her knowing what I need, me knowing that I can count on her, can do for a challenging situation. I can't take a picture of my Honey empowering me to say no to her, unlearning everything I have learned in previous relationships. There's no way to photograph the moment when she trusts me to parent (and that is one of the biggest leaps of faith out there; you know it if you have children), or when I realize that anything at all she might bring to our relationship will enrich my life, enabling me to carry things through my door that I can't even identify.

That last moment was a great example of what I'm driving at. Unloading a few last-minute things as part of our Great Household Joining, I carried a thing that looked a bit like a wrought-iron Christmas tree. Between you and me, I had no idea what it was, and the point is that I didn't care. I would have moved in a zebra-striped llama without question, that's how smitten I am, but don't tell her that, because she might like llamas. I just figured it was a whoosywingus of some kind, meant something to her, and we were going to find room for it.

Balancing that out, and in the interest of leaving enough room to move about the house, Honey is honestly wanting me to say no to some stuff. This is new to me, and I treasure it. This morning I took a deep breath and said no to yet another bookshelf. We have give-and-take going here, and consideration for each other in everything we do. I could say no to the mitten-dryer (not a Christmas tree after all, and great in a place with a wood-stove and long winters), but I won't. She knows very well that I would say yes to almost anything, but will do everything she can to not overdo it.

This is complicated, and a two-edged sword. On the one hand, I trust her to be making the very best decision, and I believe she feels the same way about me. On the other hand, I believe that if I question something she decides, we can sort that out without endangering our relationship, and I believe that she knows the same thing. Neither of us simply caves in, each of us is empowered, respected, in decisions large and small. As I write this I'm wondering if it is as big a deal to others as it is to me. There must be many couples out there who know this intuitively, but I know that it is new and wonderful to me.

Now that I think back on it, when I said that this post wouldn't be practical, I was wrong. It is about fitting things together, creating something from disparate parts, and paying attention to detail. It's the most beautiful undertaking I have ever taken on, and it's practical, essential, crucial in a very real sense. Life would not be worth living without those intangibles, feelings, magic, belief, faith, and yes, Love.

Snow Drift Love

 Copyright 2012 Eric Robbins

The way the snow drifts,
On and on and on,
Made me think of
A shape for this new song.
Falling past the window,
Blanketing the yard,
Paper said it’s bound to
Come down mighty hard.

Tiny changes in the shape of all the snow,
Underneath is still the front yard we know.

And that’s the way our love grows,
Slowly building like these all night snows
Underneath it all, just like our dooryard,
Never changing since I fell so hard
For you, that’s what you do to my heart!

When we woke up,
Pulled the drapes aside,
Watched the first flakes
Building like the tide,
And we pulled up the
Covers to our chins,
Sipping tea and loving
Being all snowed in.
All the edges gradually shift
Under swirling shapes of growing drifts.

And that’s the way our love grows,
Slowly building like these all night snows
Underneath it all, just like our dooryard,
Never changing since I fell so hard
For you, that’s what you do to my heart!

Scrimshaw

http://www.etsy.com/shop/ironwoodhollow

Ganesha Earrings

One of my crafts, practiced more in the cooler months when a quiet desktop pursuit is more what I feel like doing, is scrimshaw. Not everyone knows the word; you know those pictures of ships and whales that look like pen-and-ink drawings, on bone or ivory? That's the stuff. When I was a boy I read about sailors decorating whalebone and ivory this way, scratching designs with a knife or a nail, then rubbing ink into the scratches. It made a great impression on me, partly because I have always identified strongly with the sailing heritage that runs deep in my family, and partly because it's such a romantic image, the lonely sailor whiling away his watch with a scrap of bone and a little knife. I imagined that they dreamed of home, but still drew what they could see at the time, ships, waves, sea-life. As a lover of words, I have also always liked the word "scrimshander," which is what you call a person who practices the craft; it just resonates with crusty old-timey character.

Conch earrings

I can't remember when I first tried it, or what I designed, but over the years I have come back to it many times, untrained in the arts but wanting to create something beautiful. The method is surprisingly easy, and these days I keep a supply of reclaimed piano ivories on hand, always looking for another poor, unwanted old piano to raid for more! Elephant ivory is the best material, and although there is a completely justified international ban on its trade, it is okay to use pre-ban ivory, such as that taken from retired pianos. I think of it as rescuing the beautiful material so it doesn't just disappear into landfills. All else that is needed are some tools for shaping the ivory, either small hand-tools, or high-speed rotaries, such as a Dremel, and some paint or ink, along with rags to wipe off excess color.

I like to design earring pairs that make a tiny image when they are side-by-side, like this potted flower. Some of these are sea-scapes, some of them form a message when they are together. The challenge of writing or drawing in miniature, using a tiny blade, then adding color a tiny dot at a time, is satisfying to me, maybe similar to the enjoyment that makers of dollhouse furniture experience. I'm needing to use reading glasses these days, but a sure grip and a steady hand are the key skills. I'll be putting together a tutorial on how to do it, either as a photo-essay or series of short videos.

My very best work is reserved for loved ones, and in fact my Honey has designs that I won't make again, because they are just too special and personal to share. All the rest, though, are available at my Etsy shop, and I often fill custom orders if it's something I think I can do well. Still at the height of warm season, I'm not spending any time with the ink and ivory, but I can feel autumn in the air some mornings, and the indoor crafts will call me back to the work-table soon enough!In the meantime, if you run across any ivory, set it aside so you can try scrimshaw out for yourself as soon as I post a tutorial!

On Thankfulness

I'm going to beat the holiday rush by about three months, and talk about thankfulness now. In that same way that I believe that I should love and appreciate my wise and wonderful mother often, not just on Mother's Day, should reflect on the gifts that are uniquely mine because I am gifted with such a remarkable father much more often than just on Father's Day, should show my Beloved what she means to me always, so should I also be thankful every day of the year, not just the one day in November. My Honey says grace, simple words of thanks at the beginning of family meals; I am moved and inspired by this.

Before I start my litany of gratitude, I want to say that my hope is that you, anyone at all who reads this, can find the same beautiful place in your heart where you just know that the gifts of the universe, of life, of love, of nature, of whoever your gods are, are boundless and worthy of your awe and thankfulness.

I am thankful for, after half a lifetime of missing it, finally finding the kind of love that makes me weep for joy. ...for the children of my heart and of my blood, individuals with their own beauty, finding their way in this world. Each one of them is a miracle.

...for my mother, whose unconditional love is the bedrock of my life.

...for my father, inspiration in so many ways; I only aspire to his coolness.

... for my sister, owner and operator of one of the biggest hearts in the world, and a constant source of strength in my life.

...for my best friends John and Ben, who will tell me if I screw up, but help me bury the evidence anyway, and who inspire me in many ways to be a better man.

...for the many wonderful lost friends who have gone ahead to the next thing, after showing me, all unknowing, some clues about how to live. Parker Sanborn, Elaine Shapiro, Alexei Kondratiev, Len Rosenberg, and others. Wherever you are, I hope your spirits sing on.

...for my grandmothers, Carrie and Marion, from who I still learn. 

...for my step-parents, each of whom has shown me that love and caring is an unlimited resource.

...for the light of the moon through tree-branches, the light of the stars that falls like fairy dust, the light of the sun that sustains us, the light of the fire in my hearth, the candle in my bedroom, the light in my true love's eyes.

...for the magic of song, the gift of my voice and my ears, the uniquely human blessing of being able to touch a heart with music.

...for the countless gifts that come from life around me; wood to build with, to warm our winters, greens from the earth and meat from the animals, spices and cooking traditions from around the world, honey from the tireless bees.

...for the earth beneath my feet, the ocean that courses through my veins, the air that fills every breath of every day, the same air breathed by my ancestors, that will sustain those who follow.

...and for the precious gift of the most wonderful person I have ever known, who fills my days with joy, my nights with love, my heart with comfort and strength, my beloved Honey.

I've Learned the Answer is Yes

I've Learned the Answer is Yes

by Eric Robbins

I'll never forget that first night

When we came to each other,

A heron in flight

And a harper fleeing the night.

In darkness the longing, the pain

And our fiery need,

For once unrestrained,

But then a question remained.

To love in the daylight we need

To be clear about whether

Relationship's seeds

Are something we'll water, once freed.