A Week Away Spent Weaving

For the first time this season, Dan and I were able to travel together to lead an extended basketry workshop.

It was a bittersweet adventure, as my availability was the result of Baron’s passing, but our trip down to Touchstone Center for Crafts was a welcome change of scenery during this tough moment in life.

The focus of this workshop was stake and strand willow basketry, which was similar to a 3-day experience we led at Touchstone last fall.

Having 2 extra days this time was a real luxury, and our group was a fantastic mix of weavers ranging from beginner to experienced.

Stake and strand basketry is an incredibly versatile style, and we began by focusing on the basics of creating the base, adding uprights, building up the wale, then the side weaving (English and French randing in this case), a border/follow on border, foot, and finally a herringbone wrapped handle.

After the first project, students could choose and experiment with their own designs.

In my corner of the studio, I spent a lot of time pulling from the class scrap/compost bin, and played with crafting these random weave “nests.”

They were part grief vessel, part representation of every student’s efforts, and felt very special to me.

It was an extraordinarily hot week, and after learning from our experiences with transporting willow over great distances last summer, we rented a U-Haul in order to bring one of our big chest freezers with us.

The freezer added insurance to the longevity and viability of our pre-soaked and mellowed material, which was necessary as the conditions in the studio reached staggeringly sweltering levels throughout the week.

The extra room also meant Dan could bring his weaving table from home for the first time ever, which gave students a better look at his preferred situation. If only we had another 9 for all of the weavers to experience!

Watching students develop their own ideas is an exciting element for us to witness within a workshop, and we are always inspired by the new perspectives on the craft/material that undoubtedly emerge.

After 5 days and nights of hours upon hours of weaving, we are exhausted, grateful, and moved by our second teaching experience at Touchstone. It was the perfect place to gently begin moving into this new period of our lives.

Originally published on August 3, 2025

Bouncing Back

and twisting forward

This past week felt like the beginning of recovery.

Life with our dogs was tethered to such a strict schedule in their final years that we both appreciated our week at Touchstone, which scrambled and reset all routine.

Every day was an exercise in energetically giving it all away, so we are grateful for the wide open freedom to gather ourselves back together in our newly empty home.

*Coneflowers, Butternut shell, Autumn Olives ripening*

Uninterrupted sleep is a luxury we have long looked forward to, and the deep rest has opened new avenues of attention to put elsewhere.

With time fully returned to us, we each spent it soaking in and savoring our own versions of sustenance.

My main purpose became hunting butterflies, as I patiently followed each winged wonder, asking them to hold steady long enough for me to capture them.

*Monarchs on Blazing Star and Joe Pye Weed*

They would occasionally oblige, and this practice of attentive endurance was just what I needed to feel grounded again amidst the murky seas of grief and change.

What better focus is there than beauty?

*Monarch caterpillar on Milkweed, Swallowtail on Joe Pye Weed*

Slowly but surely, we are becoming students of our respective crafts, and areas of interest, yet again. New and old identities are taking shape.

Every opportunity Dan has to teach inevitably stirs a deep desire in him to spend more time learning, as there’s always moments that challenge his knowledge.

He spent most days this past week learning via video courses from Norfolk Baskets, which these two lovely pieces were the result of.

The past 5 years have been a whirlwind of managing our personal life in tandem with the unexpectedly rapid rise of our willow work, and as that tide begins to recede (only 1 workshop left for 2025), we are eagerly answering the call of calm, quiet clarity.

The acreage has long felt neglected, and as our other non-willow perennials have matured and found their way amongst the fray, there seems to be an endless amount of activity to discover.

Investments we made long ago are finally paying off.

*Cluster of Paw Paws, the first ever at Foggy Blossom*

As we cycle through the highs and lows of entering this new era, I am reminding myself to be gentle as sadness waxes and wanes, and possibility grows.

*First chestnuts taking shape in our field*

I promise these notes won’t become a meditation on the pain of pet loss, but this portion of the poem For Grief by John O'Donohue sums up how it’s felt for me to share our story here, often through a numinous haze that’s hung over the past 9 months -

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence.

You can read the rest of the poem here.

As we cultivate new levels of confidence, and find old passions and dreams that have been on the back burner, the process of healing feels steeped in hope.

*Dan working to weave an underfoot base*

Here’s to rising to the challenge of embarking on a new chapter.

Originally published on August 10, 2025

Full

late summer saturation

It finally rained, filling the literal cracks that developed in early, dry August, giving everything a nice refresh.

This all swept through with an exciting amount of early morning/late night thunder and lightning, making us eager to see what the world looked like in its wake.

*Kousa Dogwood, another wave of Black Raspberries*

One of the most exciting sights was the return of Burrowing Crayfish, who we used to see much more around here. Their blue color is always staggering against the grass.

Marooned insects were also everywhere, patiently waiting for their wings to dry out.

It didn’t take much precipitation for every corner to appear more fully filled out, especially within the realm of weeds.

Of course our season began with an oversaturation of rain, the effects of which the willow is showcasing on its tall, branchy tips.

This fall/winter’s harvest will wear the signs of our early spring hail storm, late spring drenching, midsummer dry spell, and whatever else lies ahead between now and then.

With so much fruit taking shape this year, the hope is always that the taste will match their lovely looks, but that’s not always the case with early yields.

We have begun to sample some of the Asian Pears that are ripening, however, and their firm flesh is offering a satisfyingly juicy sweetness that will only become better.

In the studio Dan has continued to work through projects from the Norfolk Baskets online course, resulting in a beautiful collection of new work.

Clockwise from top left: *Asparagus Basket, Round Skep, Norfolk Shopper, Round Potato Picker, and Wet Linen Basket*

We had fun animating a pair of them for an Instagram reel.

Dan also put one right to work as he began to tackle harvesting our Hazelnuts.

Back inside the shed he’s been diligently working on popping out the nuts from their husks, and the subsequent piles will spend time curing before we can enjoy them.

After focusing on harvesting from the nursery, he turned to our food forest in the field, where smaller trees are scattered all around.

With just over a month of summer left, change is in the air.

For the present moment, though, we’re focusing on enjoying the fullness.

Originally published on August 17, 2025

The 100th (& final) Note (for now)

a personal update

I started Field Notes on October 1, 2023 with the unspoken goal of publishing 100 posts every single Sunday without interruption.

Today, 3 days after my 40th birthday, I have met that goal, but this is not the post I expected to be writing.

We spent last week in New York City celebrating my age milestone, but also enjoying some levity after recently learning that my health needs to become our primary focus.

Boarding the train, at the Yankee/Red Sox game (*we became big baseball fans this year and love them both)*, and a night out on the town

Cancer has been a part of our lives since 2014 when I was first diagnosed with a rare, slow moving disease. I endured surgery/chemo that year, and again in 2016. I haven’t had any treatment since, but have regular scans that look for evidence of new activity, which there now is.

As I face my third surgery, we’re preparing to return to the patient/caretaker roles that we’ve known longer than any other.

**Field Notes will be put on pause until I am able to return, and if you are a paid member (thank you!), you will no longer be charged.**

Foggy Blossom Farm did not exist the last time we went through this, and everything we’ve built here was dreamed up throughout those challenging experiences.

As we move into this next chapter we’ll be doing so privately, but I am so grateful for the education these notes have given me on seeking the beauty, simplicity, and goodness in every day, and for all of you who have supported our work.

See you on the other side.

Field Notes Archive - August 2025