When the fabric store you have involuntarily encountered on your way, by happenstance really, is not yet open. And you jumped out of bed too early for other 'normal' people to be up and about - what is the solution - in our case the solution was to leave the car parked right outside the fabric store and then head down the street and walk along a public path way.
The Sumacs were in full bloom, beautiful pungent reds popping against greens.
At the farm.... pre-Columbian fabric pieces salvaged from Peruvian dolls. Little pieces carefully un-stitched from the dolls sold at the markets for next to nothing and lovingly patted and placed in plastic pockets to prevent too much fingering by curious fibre enthusiasts.
An old bridge along the public path with a very inviting patina of rusty bumps and all the colours, shades and shadows that come with experience and age.
More of the lovingly salvaged pre-Columbian fabric. It was lovely, quiet and serene in its pocket. Making a person wonder exactly where it came from, who had spun, woven and dyed it. And why?
Rocks outside the lambing barn, rocks with colour and nuance, enticing texture and interesting crystallization and edges.
Pre-Columbian - making me think of my tapestries, of old Norwegian tapestries, of my own ventures into different techniques needed to get this or that impression to come forth as the weft wraps itself around the warp.
And Lichen, from the rocks so full of crystals and colour, they also had freckles of softer green growths. These from afar look like little green splotches but once the eye get closer and manage to focus fabulous little volcanos turn up, and it is no longer a 'closed' patch of green, rather an entity which both covers surface and reaches for .... humidity, or whatever else it is it needs to embrace for it to fulfill its cycle of life.
Cochineal or madder - or some other dye plant showing its soft brightness on the gently twisted fibres of the hand woven cloth. I will have to rest my eyes on this for a while, I think, for the colour is soothing and inviting fitting comfortably into my view of the world.
The hardness of a paved surface, softened up by a tiny bit of green - however it did it, it .... did .....it! One short bit at a time, and now the roots are somewhere down there, working their way further towards the centre of the earth, the sole purpose of being .......is.... I don't know what, perhaps to break up some of the hard surface, to allow moisture and rain to reach other little seeds in the cracks to swell and grow into.... something magnificent and beautiful or..... just be to be.
I have gathered these photos in one post because their texture and colours seem to me to somehow belong together - binding past and present reaching into the future, they are just photos but...... they brought much fun and contemplation to the walk and to the revisiting of the trip in the photo album.