Walk out, do you good. You go to neighbours.
You do all your work. I glad I found you so comfortable.
I glad I found you so smart. I shall tell I found you well.
I suppose you no courage to do anything.
Put up swing on trees & swing, do you good.
Go south, do you good. Go to campground, do you good.
Take air, do you good. Take my horse & gallop it about.
Take cloth off your head, that is all that ails you.
Eat bread, eat meat, you be well.
Come go out with me or I won't come again. Come ride with me.
You keep your house clean, you do it yourself.
You make lath building yourself. You make butter yourself.
You stick your bean poles yourself.
Take fresh air, do you good.
You go to cattle show. You you must come & see me.
You pretty smart. Ride out.
You pretty well. Come down to Edgartown.
You been pretty smart since I saw you last.
I shall tell Dr. when I see him, I found you well.

                                       Nancy Luce
Nancy Luce was a lone homesteading woman, who had a hard time with humanity- but loved her chickens and her cow dearly. Her life, her journals, and her strange and amazing chicken names like Tweedle Dedel Bebbe Pinky and Ada Queetie are a joy!

It's been a beautiful winter. It was a magical fall.
I am settling into my dream barn studio, and feeling lucky.

I'm learning how to let things take time.
Weaving is the best teacher for that.
I started a weaving business with the intention of slowing down; to offer an alternative to quick commerce and disposable lifestyles. And while weaving, and all handcrafts, are rooted in a slow and thoughtful practice- my life and business have been a whirlwind with little time to rest. So far, my first few months working at our farm have fostered an integrated and peaceful relationship to my work.

I find myself often wondering how handweaving a farm to finish production line fits in to our world. What is the benefit of the story I'm trying to tell through my lifestyle choices? I feel committed to carrying on this tradition that was once essential and revolutionary- but what is the true and necessary evolution of this weaving lineage?
I am not a re-enactor, I'm a modern farmer and modern weaver.
I seek to find a more precise, articulate and practical way to define what I am doing so I can best serve my dreams as a farmer and weaver in their fullness and complexities.

What is the home for the past?
Where does it live and belong?
How does it march on into the future?
How can I honor my weaving lineage, and keep it alive and vital today?

© Copyright 2013, A Little Weather, Jessica Green.