Sunday skin smoking

My version of church.

5:30 pm, 32* Fahrenheit.

The deer skin before smoking: looking good! No further hair loss, fairly supple, decent drape. I scraped it a bit on my beam with my mezzaluna, to remove the dry alum and soften it a bit more.

Then it was time to smoke it.

No pictures after this point in the process because guess what? My phone died.

I also smoked the egg yolk-dressed sheepskin, and re-smoked a small shearling just for the hell of it (and to add more color).

I used the last of my punk maple, which I forgot to take pictures of.

The smoking took about two hours.

Sitting in my iron chair draped in a sheepskin, eating homemade bread and peanut butter off vintage china, drinking coffee and then apple juice from a mug with my husband’s name on it, listening to the ducks play in their water, and watching my dogs play in the snow.

The sun was warm on my face. I only needed a sweater. It was almost 40*. The midwinter shadows were long and sharp. The breeze swaying the dried wild cucumber on the fence. I noticed the specific way the snow had collected on the yarrow flowers.

Noticing small magnificent things. And noticing when I’m happy. Recognizing how good I have it. Really though – how incredibly good is the life I’ve made.

“Rejoice evermore! Rejoice evermore!”

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