Baba’s Task

Late, late last night, when the whole world slept
Along to the garden of dreams I crept.
And I pulled the bell of an old, old house
Where the moon dipped down like a little white mouse.
I tapped the door and I tossed my head:
“Are you in, little girl? Are you in?” I said.
And while I waited and shook with cold
Through the door tripped Me” – just two years old.
Zora Cross

AccretionI came to Baba Yaga seeking a fire stick and she sneered and told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was me that let the fire go out and that I would have to spend a lot of time making Descansos!

With that she flew off in her cauldron, leaving me to ponder the task of making endless lines of rope

So late, late, as night fell, I searched and found the photo of two year old me.

I kissed her, gave her a hug and made sure to tell her how precious she was/is.

Since Baba insists, I will go on making the rope, along with all the other tasks this feisty old crone has set.

I will wind and twist my strands of material and ever so respectfully, cover the things I uncover.

So here lies my two year old self, the one with sharply forged intuition, carefully wrapped and tucked within my ball for safe keeping. Like Vasalisa’s doll she will be with me and guide me as I obey Baba Yaga’s commands.

3 thoughts on “Baba’s Task

  1. How exciting to hear the name Baba Yaga again! Believe me, darling, I sat up straight right quick to hear she has set us to task once more! What she has bid us do will be done.

    Yes. I too have let the fire go out, no other but me is responsible for the ashes at my feet. Even the art I have brought forth in these last years has been dark, dark, dark! Just today I took one of those pieces and painted it white. Just a base coat, but who knows what will become of it. Last night I took up what was supposed to be the base of an art piece made of sculptured paper and cut it up. I used my scroll saw to cut away the parts that I didn’t want and kept two pieces that are pleasing to my eye. I have spent today coating one of them with white gesso and have enjoyed watching it transform into a wonderful little sculptural piece of its own.

    So many months have passed since my original quiet intuition lead me to begin layering swaths of unassuming paper and ‘smooshing’ it into some sort of visual landscape such as I have never done before. Of course, I was working around seasoned artists, painters at the time, and was intimidated by one retired art teacher’s perpetually raised eyebrow at what I was doing. I think that had something to do with this work being set aside. But that art gallery is now closing. Their ‘mainstream art practices’ wanted nothing to do with my more eclectic and modern ideas, which part of the reason I ducked out of there. Anyway…me and my eclectic ways are happy to hear Baba Yaga’s command to tend to my fire.

    I admit that I did begin the making of my own rope. I made one hellaciously ugly rope and so I rolled and sewed it up tightly into a ball. I coated it with gel medium and am waiting for that to dry sufficiently so I can paint it and enjoy the texture of the braided rope ball in my own fashion.

    I am by no means finished with the rope project. What happened with the first rope is that I used fabric that I thought I “should” use: scrap fabric that I “should” use up first. Yeah. Being ‘practical’. Of course it was ugly, something that didn’t reflect me at all, something not ‘of me’. There was good reason I hadn’t used any of that fabric before. It didn’t suit me. I immediately grabbed some other fabric, just simple tan fabric that of a texture I really liked, something with delightfully raggedy edges when torn, and wove together a shorter rope that I rolled into a smaller ball that I like very much.

    My next rope project will be something more properly suited to me. In the meantime, I have embers to tend to. It’s a pleasure to have something on my art table again. I have Heather and Creative Foraging to thank for that. Sincerely, I do. I no longer feel as though I’m working away here all alone because I know that I’m not. Thank you for that, darlings.


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