These squares have been ten years in the making. (This pattern)
Made from left-overs after knitting socks, or impulse "It's so pretty, I'll just buy one skein." shopping.
The plan had been to make an afghan big enough to cover our bed.
But that might take another ten years. The idea of a lap blanket for a Christmas gift seems just fine.
There's one week left...plenty of time!
Having finished the blankets, I had meant to "Christmas" the house yesterday, or today, but the only thing that has happened is that the Christmas tree is standing here, naked, with a pile of lights on the floor next to it. I stitched a story cloth instead.
"I need a map," is a frequent thought these days. I thought this piece would be about that, even pulled out fabrics with maps printed on them, and a book with map drawings... but it quickly fell together into this tree and roots. With hardly a thought, there it was.
Maybe it's an attempt to tell myself it's not a map that's needed, but instead, to believe that I'm not lost.
Time to put the lights up...
"She grew her own roots" in the shop.
On a very gray day, in a blue chair, they are done...two extra long, not so pretty, but very practical blankets for Blue and Moon. Pieced out of cloth from the tubs under the bed, dipped in fading indigo, left-over flannel for batting, and stitched with threads from that messy basket full (shrinking the tangle of it quite a bit, thankfully).
The weather is dark these days, and wet. Between that and the holidays, it can be hard on the students (and the teachers).
While working in the back of the room today, a boy was sent to sit by me. In a bit of a mood myself, I sighed inside, because it meant making room for him, physically and mentally. I shoved things over, and asked him, "So, other than right now, how's your day going?"
"Bad."
"How come?"
"Everything's boring."
"Lucky for you, you're in art class now."
He rolled his eyes.
Working side-by-side, he we relaxed into Ms. T.'s drawing assignment of mountains and evergreens (one of those well thought out ones with simple steps to follow that lead everyone to success). We experimented with ways to make the trees. He admired and laughed at the scribbly ones that my 7th grade art teacher taught me, and decided he like his very straight lined sweet ones (I loved that). The class ended with him letting us lean into each other, shoulder to shoulder, and my telling him, "I know this isn't where you wanted to be today, back here with me, but I'm sure glad you came."
He gave me a big smile, reminding me that I was lucky to be in art class, too.
Back to the blankets, while they're nothing to write home about, I'm pleased that they are done, warm, and made completely from what I already had, including fabrics that hold fond memories of maps, castles and cows jumping over moons during the boys' younger years.
Yesterday morning, Moon left on a school trip- a survival training camp. The boy that refuses to go camping with us anymore is out there building fires and a shelter to sleep in. It's pretty cold, too, I wonder how he's doing?
K. and I, on the other hand, are enjoying a very quiet weekend.
Yesterday I had the entire day alone, with no where to go. I stitched all day on these starlit roots, wintery stones and a conversation with the moon. They had been put aside for Christmas making, it was nice to get lost in their stories again.
They're almost done, but I really should get back to the boys' blankets. That binding made it around one and a half of them, so I need to pull the machine out again, sigh. Maybe one more day of story stitching instead?
P.S. I found one of the needles! It was stuck in the center of the blanket.
Found the book, but then discovered it wasn't where the instructions were for making continuous bias tape, but it triggered enough of a memory to figure it out. Funny how that worked itself out.
I have no idea how much is here. Whether will get all the way around one of the blankets or not, I don’t know? It’ll be a surprise and it'll be another chance to make do, just like the rest of the process of making these these silly blankets has been.
Things have been lost more than usual lately. Things and thoughts. And not just the normal "Why am I in the basement?" sort of moments. More like... head to the basement to get something out of the freezer for dinner, get distracted by laundry, and in the middle of that remember a book in a box in the far corner, move boxes to find it, one of the boxes has cloth in it, open it to take a gander, eventually returning upstairs with new scraps to work with, no book, unfinished laundry, and nothing for dinner.
As for things- I know there are three thimbles in this house, but can't find a one. A bandaid was wrapped around the finger that kept getting stabbed, which led to a needle catching on the bandaid, which led to the needle flicking off somewhere into the living room, or the ether, twice. I can't find either of them, so now we are all walking and sitting carefully in the living room.
And I lost a tooth. Not unexpectedly (see here), but much sooner than hoped. A misplaced bite on a corn chip and the end was near. It was strange having it so loose for a day, hanging by a thread, and being transported right back into the childhood fears of pulling it out, of causing myself pain. Pushing it with my tongue, and backing off the second it started to give way. After a night of not sleeping from the ache of it, I did it. What an odd sensation to go through again after all of these years.
I put it in a glass of water on the kitchen sink window sill for the Tooth Fairy to notice as she flew by, just like I did 40+ years ago (Still, it took her a couple of days to notice).
And since I'm going on and on about this... here is a favorite passage from a middle reader book...which I think applies to middle-age and on, just as much as six!
December can be so full of memories, making for very quiet days.
Nothing really interesting to share, just rows and rows, round and round, wiggling and unsteady lines of stitching on Blue's Christmas blanket. Both boys' are quilted now and waiting for bindings.
I need to find that great old book of Janie's that will remind me how to make the bias strips easily. Something about cutting a square on the diagonal and stitching it into a off-set tube... It's here somewhere...
Neither of us could ever remember how to do it from quilt to quilt without the book. It involves getting the sewing machine out, which always seems like such a chore. Janie didn't own a machine, so I would sew her tubes, too. With how prolific she was at quilting, you'd think I'd remember how to do it.
Making these long lines creates room for lots of wandering through time.
When Mo sent out an invitation to join in the making of her installation "I Dream of a World Where Love is the Answer," I had visions of a little boat on a calm sea under twinkling starlight, all being peacefully stitched on lovely summer days.
Well, none of that happened.
Giving up on the idea of making it with a peaceful spirit, it was dipped into the fading indigo vat. After washing it, I started to iron it, and before I realized what was happening, there were holes melted into it. At first there was panic, but then Mo's phrase "our beautiful broken world" came to mind, and it began to take shape.
An earth of scraps and stitch was made. followed by a golden moon with the warm sun below, a few patches of deep space and starlight, and a scattering of stars across it all.
And while making, there was thinking, confusion, and a wondering if... maybe this is how it really is. This work and struggle for peace, healing the earth, trying to find a way through- It doesn't usually happen because everything is a calm and hunky-dory garden of sweet peas and roses. The ripped and rough places show us what's really going on, and call to us for mending. For most of us, we do what we can with what we have. Piecing together whatever kind of inner scraps we might have within. And just maybe, all of the frayed worn bits can be brought together and worked into a kind of wholeness again.
With a heart full of gratitude for Mo's vision and spirit, I'm sending wishes and prayers for, and into, the bigness of the Universe and our own small wished for cosmoses within it... May they all be patched and held together with our threads of hope and love.
Thank you, again, for all of the very kind comments on the last post. I wanted to be sure that you all saw this paragraph from the article...
While being in the magazine is very flattering and confidence-boosting... at the heart of everything I'm grateful for in this stitching world, is this circle of makers. Finding Jude and this community of kindred spirits has been the very best gift of all, another "Thank You" to all of you!
Remember that crazy photo shoot months ago (here)? Well, it was worth it! Last summer I was contacted by writer and editor, Katie Allen, asking if I would do an interview for the United Kingdom's Cross Stitcher magazine's "meet the maker" spot. The November issue has finally made its way across the ocean to Seattle, and it's such a swell and lovely article!
Her thoughtful questions were a welcomed opportunity to think about the what and why of my making, as well as bringing to mind fond memories of learning embroidery stitches from Grandma Blanche, which led to lots of cross-stitching in my early years of stitching.
The cross-stitched quilt above was my last gift from Grandma. I watched her work on it for months and months, not knowing it was for me. One day she took the last stitches, knotted and cut the thread, folded it up, and set it aside. Later, when I went to leave, she gestured towards it and said, "Go ahead and take that with you."
Sending a great big blushing-tickled-pink "Thank You!" to Katie across the sea!
Winter feels just around the corner. Maybe it was those cold sea winds in Maine? Some new story cloths were finished up this morning (in the shop). I like the contrast of the icy waves and flowers in this one- holding more than one thing at a time.
A jar of hope. Being gathered or scattered? Another place for the idea of "both".
The "blanket" of snow here is a scrap from Blue's first blanket, "Rosie". He took it everywhere for years. He called today, from college in Ohio. He's spending Thanksgiving in New York City with college friends. They will be carrying a banners and balloons in the Macy Parade. It sounds like so much fun. Remembering the road trip a friend and I took after college graduation...driving from Oregon to NYC.
Time stretches and whooshes all at once.
