Carving sale November 7–17 — I’ll post again the week of the 4th, but for those of you who have asked, here’s your advance warning. I’ll also have Christmas ornaments available then; more on that soon.

chip carving of bird in garden of flowers; green carved frame


Something different this time. I wanted to do the tree; not sure how I feel about the rest.

chip carving of trees in winter


I would like to support my locally-owned bookstore, which is close enough to my house that I can walk there and back within an hour. But every time I check their online store to see whether they have the book I want to read, it says “ships from warehouse in 3-6 days.” It’s not so much that I’m in a hurry — I most often buy books through Alibris, and have them shipped media mail. But I can’t see why I should pay them, in essence, to place an order for me. The bookstore feels less like a community partner and more like a government agency levying a tax. And the fact that my preferred reading is so rarely found on their shelves tells me that I am not really part of their community, anyhow. Though I know that just from walking around the place.

What I want from a bookstore is ecumenical chaos. This is not the same as having everything. But it is to be open to having anything.


Where the Eno River empties into Falls Lake.

Autumn trees reflected in blue water, blue sky


I saw two white herons today, so either that’s good luck or I’m going to die soon. I don’t know how these omen things work.


Basically yesterday I walked 22 miles to watch the sun set.

vivid orange setting sun behind trees, clouds glowing pink, reflected in lake


He said I could set up camp wherever I wanted, so I picked this.

orange tent in a big field by a lake


Morning glories vining up a tangle of underbrush


Trees reflected on lake, gray sky


Joshua Reynolds: “A great part of every man’s life must be employed in collecting materials for the exercise of genius. Invention… is little more than a new combination of those images which have been previously gathered and deposited in the memory; nothing can come of nothing…”