Friday, August 12, 2011

For The Magic Feather Project

This represents a long story, too long to send with it, but I'll share it here. One day about two years ago I saw two perfect little feathers falling from the sky. No, really. I was standing in a gravel parking lot that used to be a train station for a long defunct regional passenger line (the London and Port Stanley Railway). The Dog was sniffing around in the brush, I stopped to look at the clear blue sky. And these two little feathers just drifted slowly into my line of sight and landed at my feet.

I bristled with fear thinking "Gawd, I hope this isn't a sign, I'm not equipped to interpret signs....". I picked them up. Two perfect rust and grey breast feathers. Once I got my bearings again, holding them in my trembling hand, I noticed on the lightpost just out of my view, there was a Peregrine Falcon, now looking down at me, looking like she was thinking "What?". So this reminds me of a Falcon who may or may not have played a trick on me.

The base cloth is from a linen handkerchief I bought around the corner at Goodwill; the thread is white silk, some of it dyed with a fresh walnut I found on Sunday. I dyed the base cloth myself in my homemade, chemical free Indigo vat made in a jar I found up the street. So this also reminds me of foraging, and that being okay.

To the mail on Monday!


  1. a lovely feather. you should share the story. maybe we can convince jude to publish a 'magic feather project' book with all the stories. this is a great story.

  2. No I reckon that peregrine SAW the Angel that flew past and you just, didnt!
    Fate again you see, Fate knew Jude would have a feather project some day.........:)

  3. more than ok. just great, feather and story.

  4. In the winter I was outside and saw feathers mixing with the snow. Looking up there was a Red Tail Hawk on a telephone pole dining. Odd feelings of sadness mixed with awe.

  5. A couple weeks ago, I witnessed Poppa Cardinal tending to a wee one who must have fallen from a nest. I could not find the nest or so I would have replaced him within. For 5 days, I spent various bits of time watching as Poppa would bring food to the little one and as the young one would gain strength, attempt flight. During one of these stretches of time of sitting ever so still, a feather floated down and lightly grazed me on the left side of my face. Not a cardinal feather, no, but one of gray - a dove or mockingbird as there are many who frequent that tree beneath which I sat. I don't know what happened to that tiny bird. I didn't see him fly away and have not seen him on the few occasions when I have since seen Poppa. I do hope he survived. But I do wonder about the significance of that light feather touch.