Ghost Ranch, part 2 : Jill Berry Blog

Ghost Ranch is special because my muse always shows up. It is special because of the others who show up too. Here are some of my friends and kids.

I got to work with Bev Taylor, Carol Pallesen, and Bob Phillips. On Thursday the teachers have a tradition of going out to dinner together. It was exciting to be in the club. At dinner, Bob starts writing on a chip, doing calligraphic wonders on corn. He called it the “El Farolito Smackdown.” He and Carol wrote names on grains of rice, and passed them out. Then Carol started a story. She said some people where she lives (Reno, Nevada) called her a communist because she listens to NPR. Then she said her local PBS station had a fundraiser at a hotel, but she couldn’t remember the name of it…. without a pause Bob pipes in “was it the Comrade Hilton?” I just cracked up. Carol said “no, I don’t think that was it” and I laughed even more. Bob and I got really giggly, and the more Carol didn’t notice, the funnier it was. Bob is a very, very funny man. This shenanigans went on all week and gads it felt so good!
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Some of us went to visit with Pam Smith (Marblesmith), a bookbinder and paper marbler who lives in Abiquiu. She had us over for a demo, and a hands-on. We all bought her gorgeous papers, of course, no resisting that. Her house is full of light and art, and on this day, sangria and salsa. Pam has been in the business a while, and has a stellar reputation.

Here is my class, in all their brilliance. I had a wonderful time. The appreciation I felt, and still feel, was gigantic. You showed up, you worked hard and made beautiful things. Namaste, to all of you.

Ghost Ranch has been important to me since the first time I went there: I have a very strong sense of place. By training and profession I am not a writer and cannot communicate the what wheres and whys of my connection to this place. I will leave you with this.

At last,
I shall give myself to the desert again,
that I, in its golden dust,
may be blown from a barren peak
broadcast over the sun-lands.

If you should desire some news of me,
go ask the little horned toad
whose home is the dust,
or seek it among the fragrant sage,
or question the mountain juniper,
and, by their silence,
they will truly inform you.
–Maynard Dixon
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