handstories

Silver the moon

    This base was stitched a while ago and rediscovered in the mediocre clean-up of  Wednesday.  One of Deb's threads seemed to match the steel-like feeling.  I loved making those +++ marks, watching the threads change in the indigo and walnut dyed cloth.

    The last days have been busy and full.  Mostly good things- drying clothes out in the sunshine (including the cotton sheets that I can't wait to sleep in tonight), making a delicious dinner out of leftovers (or what a friend calls, "Week in Review," and a day trip to my friend's house across the water.

    There were riots of colors in her yard.  It was the hottest day yet this year, near 80.  My legs saw the sun for the first time.  I hope that no one was blinded by them.  She gardened.  I helped a tiny bit, but mostly moved in and out of the shade while stitching and writing.

    I wrote memories of Myrtle.  A girl I knew in third and fourth grades.  She been on my mind all week.  There's still a bit more of her story to write down.

    Mt. Rainier during the ferry ride home.

    Today I feel like I have a sun-hangover.

    I love having the windows open again- fresh air, the clear sounds of birds and the smell of flowers.

    On Friday K. came home with raspberries and blueberries.  For the first time in a very long time, I had the feeling that everything is really going to be ok... relief.

Listening to myself

    I played with them this morning, thinking about Deb's comment, "There is a sense of seasons".  It happened rather quickly.  Each of them seemed to fall into place with a feel of a certain time of year.  A visual calendar, at least to me.  Thanks for the idea, Deb!

    Something else that I've learned about myself lately... After finishing a project I seem to just run out of stitching steam.  I wander around, sometimes carrying cloth and thread (in case the urge to make happens), but usually it's a nothing day.  Often it feels wasted, which leads to guilt, which leads to glum.

    This time I saw it coming.  When the trees were finished I made a list of doable-things-to-do and none of them were stitching.  Yesterday was spent ticking them off.  Pencils were sharpened, the piles of cloth all over my table were sorted, threads gathered and put back into their places, emails were returned (emails that had been written and thought sent, were actually sent), the missing eye glasses were found (under the cloth), a book was read, etc.  Nothing terribly exciting or productive, but everything that was expected to happen did.  I'm calling it a win!

    New to me bird sounds woke me up this morning- two birds in a call and response conversation, high and low songs, and then there was an old familiar calling from the sea...

    (PS.  The tree tokens will be in the shop this Friday, April 16th, 9 am Pacific Standard Time.)

Lessons Learned

    I had no idea of how this experiment might go, just a lot of wondering.

    At times it was really good, a way of stretching and pushing myself.

    There were uncomfortable moments... all of these bare trunks, naked and waiting for their turn.

    At this point I realized how how much I enjoy my usual method of letting the story of each piece evolve while being with it, having one idea lead to the next in the flow of making.  Working in this way slowed things down.  By stitching on so many at once, completing one part at a time (all of the grounds, then the skies, trunks, etc.), it was hard to remember ideas that had come earlier.  It felt a bit like speed dating- just as you're getting to know someone, it's time to move on to the next person, and when they come back around, you can't even recall their name and need to spend time getting reacquainted.

    At the same time, it was a way to notice that there are so many possible stories, that each could go in many directions, and to try to find ways to do things differently, to see something new.

    Even though I doubt that I will do this again, I'm glad I tried it.  It was a really good think.  By approaching things from a different angle I was able to observe things about my own process, what works best for me, and some of the why's.

    And now there is a forest of friends...

Signs

    Yesterday in search of a path.  Using a moon, silky red and magic thread gifts from Jude, I tried to make my own. 

    It’s hard when the best way forward isn't clearly marked.  It's been a rough week, a decision had to be made.  Is it an opportunity, a step backwards, or a leap into quicksand?  We aren't sure.  Instead of making things lighter, it was more complicated than imagined.

    K. wondered why nothing felt right or easy.

    "Because nothing is right now.  Because it's been a f@#$ing hard year for us, and lots of people.  It's not personal."  (I don't usually swear, really.)

 

    The pro/con lists tipped in both directions.  We looked hard for which way to lean..."ONE WAY," "NO U-TURNS," "DO NOT ENTER"... anything would have been welcomed.

    I looked for things I could do.  I could make a call with hope that it would have helpful information at the other end.  I dialed, redialed, and punched in the needed numbers nonstop for over half an hour.  Finally, I got through to a place in the on-hold line (with really awful music), only having to hang up forty-five minutes later because there was an appointment to get to.      

    After days of debate, a leap of faith/decision was made, with hope and trust that the shape of a hill is also that of a doorway- an archway to goodness and going.  (Thanks to Liz for this reminder.)

    I said to K, “We'll do this, and if there are pieces to pick up later... We will." 

    We remind each other of who we are... and that we can.

    Today bases for tree tokens were made.  I don’t usually work like this, in a group.  Sometimes two or three together, but not rows of them.  Without planning there were thirteen.  My lucky number.

    I just wanted to see what it might be like.  Would it would it be an assembly line?  Or would there be connections and relationships?  How might they inform each other?  I wonder if they will have their own individual tales, while still being pieces of a whole?

 

    No answers yet, but it’s interesting to hold so many stories at once… like a wander through a deep forest with much to see in every direction at once.

    Yesterday there was a walk in the arboretum.  A raven cawed and cawed while flying overhead- soaring and swerving as crows harassed it.  It was so big.  And beautiful. 

    The Cherry trees are in blossom, and the magnolias.  This one had blooms the size of dinner plates.  I wanted to gobble them, to be filled with them.

One hill leads to another...

    Saturday afternoon I just needed something bigger to stitch on.  These cloths were at hand.  A comforting hill.

    With Jude's beasts in mind (I love them so).  Thinking about most of my self-portraits either have no mouth at all, or are wide open, screaming things from the deep.

    Hills.  Folks see portals.  Maybe they are the same thing?  A way through.  Or over.  Or a place to rest and make daisy chains.

 

    We are waiting to hear some news.  Which way it will go, we don't know.  Which answer will be good or hard, we don't know.  So, just hoping for how it might be.

    Layers are cut away, making new shapes to work with.  They are shifted and rearranged as they accumulate.  There are no rules, just going.

    In the middle of it all, I wonder what we want?  What we need?  How to want what we will have?  Mostly I do.

    Hills, portals, places of in-between...brinks of stories.

Season

    "Into the Blue Wood"

    Lists are being made, and lost, and rewritten.  Things I might do, should do, want to do.  Probably it's the "mights" that should be focused on.  All of the unknowns are piling up this week, the maybes.  It's hard to think of how to move forward.

    This is Ezmerelda, she's about two inches square, with some of Deb's cloth and thread, and a tiny moon scrap from some Liberty of London fabric from that family trip years ago... That was such a wonderful trip, especially the day with Blandina...

    The governor has announced that students will have the option to be back in school part time in two weeks, but no one knows what that will look like.  Will Moon finish his senior year outside of his bedroom?  We'll see.  I find myself happy that he might have the chance to be with friends, and anxious about risk and change.

    Stitching in my blue room keeps me going, keeps some of the anxiety at bay.  It's something that I can and want to do.

    One of the last things that I do before a shop update is to write the name of the piece, sign and date the back.  In an attempt to write the simple short name of "Hana" on this one, the pen went awry.  There was no fixing it, so the backing was removed and replaced.  It was nice that something could be fixed so easily.

    I long for a routine and rhythm for all of us again.  To know what days and things will look like.  I wonder if it's possible anymore?

spring fever

    "Florence," or "Flo" if you're friends.  

    Strange bouts of insomnia going on, balanced with naps and marathon sleeps.  So the days are spent in punch-drunk delirium or sleep hangovers.

    Which leads to very slow stitching.  These scraps were pinned together in a pile.  No memory of why, what intention or plan there might have been for them?  Maybe there wasn't one?  Maybe I just liked the combination?  I still do.

    There was a delicious dinner on a wonderful rooftop deck with friends...root vegetable soup, frites, brussels sprouts, and citrus olive oil cake with berry compote.

    "Hana" in spring.

    I am not, don't want to be, but need to figure out how to be a better business person.  There, I've said it out loud.  Maybe now it will magically happen?

Still a hero forever

    Yesterday texts and emails with the news... Beverly Cleary has died, just a few weeks shy of her 105th birthday.  I burst into tears, went outside to say it out loud to a friend, and cried again.  And now, while writing this, some more- sadness in knowing that she is gone, but mostly for the overwhelming joy she brought into my life, my family's, and millions of others.

    This is from the post that I wrote ten years ago, the day after my birthday...

    "Beverly Cleary, and her "Ramona" character, have long been heroes of mine.  Growing up, I loved those books.  I read Ramona the Pest to my husband on our honeymoon. 

     During a dark time, I read her autobiography,  A Girl From Yamhill.  I was surprised to discover that she didn’t grow up in a warm fuzzy Ramona family, but still went on to write wonderful books that make children so happy.  It gave me hope.  I wrote to her.  She wrote back a lovely thoughtful message with more hope.

     Soon after, working in a first grade class, I shared the letter, love of all things Cleary, and my hope that in spite of my lack of a Ramona family, that maybe I could someday do something that would make children happy.  In unison the circle of children suddenly said, “But you do make children happy!”  Oh!

     Twentyish years later, I met a friend of hers and shared my story.  “I’m going to see her soon,” she said, “Write her again, tell her all of this.”  I did.  That was about a year ago.  Mrs. Cleary is 95 yrs. old, I did not expect a response.  Her friend said that she was pleased with the letter.  That was enough.

     Yesterday I went to the mailbox.  A postcard.  A very happy birthday indeed."

    I hope that she was surrounded by all of the love and joy that she gave to so many others.  Thank you, Beverly Cleary.

Blue & potatoes

    Before the boat it looked quite desert-like with its soft colors dyed by Tina, Deb and Laura.  There was quite a long ponder as to what might be in the wide open pink space?  At first, a boat washed ashore onto dry land.  Fortunately, the sea rolled in, silk from Richard that I dyed in indigo.  

    It's been good and fun to dip into new color combinations lately, but I do find that after each wading there is a craving for the familiar comfort of blue.  

    And now for the nature portion of our show...

    The birthday "card" from Blue arrived.  Yes, a real potato.  It came inside of a mailer labeled "The Best Gift Ever".  Inside was a shiny gold box holding the spud, with a message from him written on the other side.  This is so my family.  I texted him, "You're so weird!  And I'm so glad!" 

    He has always had a thing for potatoes.  You can't imagine how happy he was to discover blue potatoes, there was a potato costume for Halloween at age nine, and in high school his email address included the words "bluepotato".

    A sprig that K brought home from a walk.  The smell is delicious.

    Speaking of delicious... stitching into this silky moon gift from Jude... sigh... like melting.  A very soft thin cloth.  This one has so many tiny stitches, some to include the whole rainbow spectrum, others not needed for design or stability, but because I just didn't want to stop.

More cake, rope & a boat

    This year's birthday season came to a close last night with German chocolate cake made by Moon and a family visit with virtual Blue.

    A new boat, sailing into, or with, springtime.

    I had forgotten some of the rope story...  It all started with this photo and a text from my brother to my sisters and me last April.  What you need to know:  My dad's name was Pat, both of them were in the volunteer fire department of our hometown, my brother's son (D) is now in one in his town, and that my family likes to tell stories.  Here's my brother's in his somewhat edited words...

    "Ok, good morning, prepare for some rambling, or delete now...  Couldn't sleep so have been cleaning shop since 5am and drinking COFFEE.  Weather has been 68-74 the last 10 days and thank goodness it's raining today- makes this quarantine more bearable?  At least it feels ok to sit in/at home.  Shop's clean, drawers organized, and drill bits all sharpened.

    "I said rambling right?  When I resigned from the fire department in February, after 35 years, I cleaned out my turnout pockets, came home and tossed it all in box."  ("turnouts" are what fire fighters call their uniform pants tucked into boots, partially turned inside out, with suspenders dangling on the sides, all standing ready to be stepped into and pulled on quickly.)

    "This morning in my puttering, I mean cleaning, I found I needed a section of rope to hang my gnomes on.  The ones I kept from Pat's (Dad's), as the original rope had rotted away (see photo).  I recalled my "turnout rope" (see photo).  Now you ask what is a turnout rope? 

    "Always carry a piece of rope in your turnouts, that way you'll have it when you need it," Pat-ism (Dad had A LOT of sayings).  To tie off a ladder, a hose or whatever.  On one call Pat borrowed my rope (guess who didn't have his), tied open a door, and let it get burned up when we were pulled out of the structure.

    So I proceeded to give him crap about my rope... And where was his rope?  We know who lost mine, etc.... 

    One drill night in a classroom, he sat and end braided a new section of rope.  Not quite half the class watched him- fascinated as they had never seen end braiding and they still weren't sure why or what he was doing?  Near the end of class Pat came over to me, in front of everyone, and handed it to me.

    "Your f---ing rope, don't lose it again!"  A good laugh.  It's still with me.

    It seems funny, I carried that simple piece of rope and used it Many times for 33 years.  I'll never need it for turnouts again.... Can't decide whether to hang the gnomes with it or....  D. can't use it as now everyone carries synthetic webbing....whatever.

    See rambling....simple things that somehow make us tick."

    Love this rope more and more.