FIELD NOTES: MEMBER NEWSLETTER

Excerpt from “Toward an Organic Philosophy”
by Kenneth Rexroth

SPRING, COAST RANGE

The glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,   

The circle of white ash widens around it.

I get up and walk off in the moonlight and each time   

I look back the red is deeper and the light smaller.   

Scorpio rises late with Mars caught in his claw;   

The moon has come before them, the light   

Like a choir of children in the young laurel trees.   

It is April; the shad, the hot headed fish,

Climbs the rivers; there is trillium in the damp canyons;   

The foetid adder’s tongue lolls by the waterfall.

There was a farm at this campsite once, it is almost gone now.   

There were sheep here after the farm, and fire   

Long ago burned the redwoods out of the gulch,   

The Douglas fir off the ridge; today the soil   

Is stony and incoherent, the small stones lie flat   

And plate the surface like scales.

Twenty years ago the spreading gully

Toppled the big oak over onto the house.   

Now there is nothing left but the foundations   

Hidden in poison oak, and above on the ridge,   

Six lonely, ominous fenceposts;

The redwood beams of the barn make a footbridge   

Over the deep waterless creek bed;

The hills are covered with wild oats

Dry and white by midsummer.

I walk in the random survivals of the orchard.   

In a patch of moonlight a mole

Shakes his tunnel like an angry vein;

Orion walks waist deep in the fog coming in from the ocean;   

Leo crouches under the zenith.

There are tiny hard fruits already on the plum trees.   

The purity of the apple blossoms is incredible.   

As the wind dies down their fragrance

Clusters around them like thick smoke.

All the day they roared with bees, in the moonlight   

They are silent and immaculate.

REFLECTIONS

Spring has officially arrived in the Driftless, and it’s making quite the dramatic entrance. Much of our region has been hit by powerful thunderstorms over the past week, some of them even bringing hail and strong winds to really make their point that things are changing. Alongside these loud, in-your-face reminders of the seasonal shift are subtler signs: trees and bushes are slowly beginning to leaf out, daffodils and tulips are coming up, and bees are returning. My favorite change to observe these past few weeks has been the gradual intensifying green of the grass; I had hardly noticed how dull it was before, but now the vivid emerald surprises and delights me everywhere I go.

This season comes as a reminder of the importance of shaking things up and disrupting the status quo so new growth can be given space to fill. The first storms of spring may knock down some branches, or even whole trees. But those new gaps in the canopy let in much-needed light to nourish younger and smaller plants, and what falls to the forest floor provides rich grounds for fungi, insects, and small animals to thrive.

At the Driftless Folk School, we’re trying to disrupt things in our own way. We want to disrupt the tendencies of our standard education system, which discourages curiosity and staunches love of learning by promoting success over process. We thank you, our members, for being a core part of this vital work of disrupting the status quo and creating new modes of learning, connecting, and being.

FROM THE FIELD: STONE CARVING

The stones we’re working with, Aloria Weaver and David Heskin tell us, are somewhere in the order of 400 million years old. These brilliant white slabs of marble have come from Colorado, where one of the purest deposits of this stone is found. It’s palpable in the way the instructors talk about the stone that this relationship is a deep one; that working with it and drawing inspiration from it is ultimately about connecting with the earth. As David talks about the marble’s origin, he says, “I always remember when I’m working with it that this stone is millions of years older than me. It really humbles me. I can bring humor into other mediums, but with stone it’s different.”

The kind of carving we’ll be doing today, as opposed to 3D sculptural carving, is done by making beveled cuts into a flat surface, in order to make letter forms and other two-dimensional symbols. In addition to being very beautiful and elegant when done patiently and with skill, this art form is also ancient. Stonemasons of Ancient Rome created complex works using only a mallet and chisel (the very same tools we’re using today, though slightly modernized), and originated many of the conventions of lettering still used today—for example, the Times New Roman font.

Before we even touch our stones and tools, about an hour is dedicated to drawing our designs. “A well-done design, very poorly carved, will always look better than a poorly-done design well carved,” David says. While we look through books and begin sketching, David reads us philosophical passages from a book about designs. Teaching stone carving, according to David and Aloria, often becomes a metaphor for how to live.

David shows us the British style of carving, where the stone is propped up on an easel, while the American style keeps the stone flat on a table. We will be using the British style. David offers two reasons why this method is preferable. “One, in this style, you’re carving from your heart. It’s a devotional act.” He demonstrates how, when standing upward, the movement of mallet and chisel radiate out from his chest and into the stone. “And two, this way the dust falls right onto the ground.”

After some demonstration, it’s finally time for us to take our tools in hand and get to work. Maneuvering the mallet and chisel is difficult at first; I feel like I’m working with rigid, heavy extensions of my own limbs. But eventually, it gets more comfortable. Staying responsive to the stone, noticing how it feels, helps a lot.

We spend the rest of the class working independently, with Aloria and David circling the room to offer help and advice. Despite the constant ringing of chisel against stone that fills the room (thankfully, the instructors have provided everyone with earplugs), a sense of calm and ease eventually fills the space. People are chatting cheerfully while they work, taking time to admire their designs with all their imperfections, and just enjoying the process, with all its ups and downs. Aloria’s cat is circling the room; he makes the classroom feel like a home.

Reverence is everywhere in Aloria and David’s teaching. For the material, for their lineage of teachers, for the opportunities they’ve been given to develop and share their skills. Even when talking about the mine which extracts and processes the marble we’re using—and whose practices will cause the natural deposit to run out in about fifty years—the overwhelming emotion is gratitude. This mine was out of operation until a few decades ago, and in a few more it will deplete the resource and close down again. To live in a time when this material is as accessible as it is right now is a pretty big stroke of luck.

My carved piece is now sitting on a shelf in my living room. It’s imperfect; there are some places where the marble cracked or flaked, and the incision isn’t completely consistent in its depth or the angle of its bevel. But when I look at it, rather than seeing those details, I see a gift that the earth spent hundreds of millions of years making, which now bears the mark of my hands. As Aloria told us, “When people talk about stone they often use the word matrix. This word—and materia, material, matter—are all related to the Latin word mater, meaning mother. We are working with something from the womb of the earth.”

FACES OF THE FOLK SCHOOL: CLINT GRABHORN

Will Young: Could you start by telling me a bit about your background with teaching crafts?

Clint Grabhorn: Sure, when it comes to teaching art and craft, I would definitely call myself a generalist. I find myself teaching a lot of different arts, being [a teacher] in middle school and high school classrooms. But I also have a general curiosity for different media and different techniques. So as a crafter, I might consider myself a willow basket maker, but more generally speaking, I find myself being just kind of a creative person, you know, living artfully. Being an artist, everything from printing, to painting, to sculpture, to willow basketry, to ceramics—I really just like my hands in a lot of materials. 

WY: That idea of being a generalist is something I hear come up a lot in folk school settings; thinking about what it means to be a generalist today in a world that sometimes feels like it’s trying to create a world of specialists. Being someone who knows how to do a lot of different things is kind of becoming a lost art. Do you have any thoughts about that?

CG: I think it's a lifestyle choice, in the sense that when you live like that—seeking out an ingenuity for different processes—there's a sort of critical thinking and a problem-solving that goes along with that lifestyle. It's not just about making art pieces or the crafting of objects. It's about that intentional living where you hope to be able to solve problems more locally. You hope to be able to use the resources around you and to use that skill of critical thinking in more aspects of your life than just craft and artistry. So I think there's just a general mindset of being a problem solver that comes with being a crafter. We practice that through our handwork. I like to talk about the divergent thinking that comes with being a creative person, where the more you practice it, the more you cultivate that ability to think outside of the box and be creative about solutions. 

WY: Or how being a beginner at something is its own skill that you can develop; the more times you’re a beginner at something the easier it gets.

CG: Yeah, I think someone who is creative has a sense of excitement about being a beginner, versus a hesitance or a fear. I think there's a real excitement in learning something for the first time and being at the beginning stage because there is so much to learn. 

WY: You’re a middle school teacher, correct?

CG: Right now I'm teaching middle school during the week, and I love it. I love the middle school level because you have such a high level of curiosity and engagement. I really have a good time in my position as a middle school teacher, sparking that curiosity, or maybe it's that we’re trying to keep that alive. There's a childlike curiosity that we can help students maintain as they develop cognitively and develop their identities.

WY: Do you feel like working with teenagers and preteens has helped you learn more about teaching adults?

CG: Yeah, I do. I think they supplement each other well. I actually really like the broader experience of teaching different grade levels, but I think the way that middle school sort of informs my practice of teaching adults is that teaching middle school can come with unique challenges, and a lot of that is learning new levels of patience, and breaking down processes. One thing that we know about attention spans is that longer sequences of information can be challenging for younger minds. So being able to break longer sequences down into bite-size chunks is definitely something that I practice regularly, and I think that really does translate to pretty much any level. 

WY: We talked about you being someone who enjoys “collecting” new mediums. Do you have a skill or medium that you’re most excited to learn next?

CG: I’ve been working a lot recently with mixing ceramics and willow basketry. I think that's been really fascinating for me because way that I stumbled into that practice was really unique, and it was based on my experiences in my journey. I was doing a lot of ceramics for the first time in over a decade and I had just fallen back in love with throwing pottery on the wheel, and it just happened while I was simultaneously exploring willow. I think when you are a generalist, or you do work with a variety of media, you start to make connections. And that connection that I had made between ceramics and willow was like, thinking about the different textures and thinking about the way that I could marry them together while also having this contrast between the very solid surfaces of ceramics and the natural, pliable surfaces of willow. I’ve ] just been playing around with that, and I'm incorporating found objects, whether it's branches, or textures, or lately it's been deer antlers.

WY: Why do you think that folk education specifically, or alternative education more generally, is important, especially now?

CG: Yeah, I can get carried away with this one. I am really interested in using art to explore culture. I'm more particularly interested lately in the idea of place- or space-based education; how do you become a little bit more tied, not only to your community of people, but your community place. So I think there's something really important about exploring place through education, and having an appreciation for nature, for our natural resources. I think we all become closer to it in different ways; maybe it's growing our food, or crafting our objects. We all become close to our place and have a deeper respect for it when we do things like crafting, or when we explore other classes in the folk school, the things that can help us build an appreciation for the time, the energy, the craft that goes into making something beautiful. 

 Want to learn more and experience Clint Grabhorn’s craft pedagogy? Clint will be teaching a Willow Round Basketry class with us in July. We hope to see you there!

THE MIGHTY DANDELION
Craft Tutorial

If you’re starting to see dandelions come up in your yard, wait a minute before reaching for the weed killer. Dandelions are versatile, beneficial, and delicious plants that can be used in a variety of ways. Here are some ideas!

Dandelion greens are safe to eat both cooked and raw, and have a flavor similar to spinach and arugula. They are the least bitter when young and tender; however, consuming bitter flavors is great for stimulating digestion, so don’t shy away from bitter greens!

Dandelion roots, when roasted and then brewed into tea, have a deliciously rich, nutty flavor that resembles the taste of coffee, but without the caffeine buzz and crash. To make it yourself:

• Dig up as many roots as you can find (on your own property, or a friend or neighbor’s with permission) Clean well to remove as much dirt as possible.

• Slice into chip-like pieces. Arrange on dehydrator trays and dry in a dehydrator for an hour.

• Once dry, cut into small pieces, arrange on a baking sheet or other oven-safe tray. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes at 200 degrees, until brown and completely dried through. 

• The roots are now ready to make into tea! If desired, you can grind them into a powder using a spice or coffee grinder, then roast a second time for 5 minutes at 180 degrees. Store in an airtight container.

Finally, dandelion flowers can be made into syrup, jelly, or a salve to soothe muscle and joint pain.

Want to learn more about the benefits and uses of herbs that might already be growing in your backyard? Consider a class with Linda Conroy, bioregional herbalist, myco-herbalist, and traditional foods educator. Upcoming classes with Linda include:

• Mushrooms A-Z: Preparing and Growing Fungi for Food and Medicine, June 6, 2026

• Botany and Sensory Skills for Herbalists and Foragers, June 20-21, 2026

• Wild Foods, Wild Medicine: 2-Day Immersion, July 18-19, 2026

NEWS & ANNOUNCEMENTS

Upcoming Classes

• Traditional Spoon Carving (two-day course) - Saturday and Sunday, 5/16-5/17

• Long-stitch Bookbinding: The Medieval Paperback - Friday (AM), 5/22

• Coptic Bookbinding: The Original Codex - Friday (PM), 5/22

• Herbal Floral Remedies: Incorporating Flower Essences - Saturday, 5/23

• Hammered Copper Bowls with Stone Tools - Saturday, 5/23

• Wildcrafting with Beeswax: Mullein Torches + Acorn Cap Balms - Sunday, 5/24

Upcoming Events

• Community Celebration - Sunday, 7/5

• First Fruits Banquet - Saturday, 8/1

Thoreau College

• Applications are now open for the Driftless Field School, our summer program, and the Fall Metamorphosis Gap Semester!

• The 5th Annual Viroqua Shakespeare Festival will take place at PrairieWind Park from June 25-28. Come see our production of Romeo and Juliet, directed by Greta Zandstra.

Did you miss the first issue of Field Notes? Check it out here!