handstories

bitty batts

    Often, when an ordered art batt arrives, it comes with an extra bit of fiber, a treat from the artist.  Below is the collection from the last couple of years.  They went with me to a friend's cabin on the island the last few days.  There was wonderful weather, a beach walk and art talk with a friend (we found agates!), lots of good food, and hours for handwork.

Day One:  Randomly grabbing the little batts, spent the first day with the drop spindle.

Day Two:  Improvised a niddy-noddy.    About 169 yards or 117 wraps around chair legs.  

Hung it from a log of driftwood to dry.   I couldn't have imagined that all of those mismatched bits would be so beautiful together.

Day Three:  Knit like crazy obsessed person.

Day Four:  Return home with a new scarf, that cost me nothing but happy hours of working with fiber, very pleased with myself. 

    Contents:  All kinds of wool, bamboo, firestar, soybean, masham, yak, silk, angora, baby alpaca, pom-poms, shredded sari, threads and mystery fibers.  

Thank you to all the wonderful fiberistas who are so generous with their talent and fiber.

blue, but new

     Once again, Jude has inspired a try at something new.  Yes, they're still blue squares, which I love to sew, but, tipped on a corner- a whole different thing.

     These cloth pieces were all dipped in the indigo bucket, including some of the soft sheet.  

    And yes, I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, I could do her invisible baste forever, happily.   Yep, forever.

    Taking this, some wool, and the family to the island for a few days...

blanche

  Grandma came to mind while hanging the yarn in the tree two days ago.  She lived in a purple trimmed trailer with more than 200 decorative plates hanging on the walls (the ones advertised in the Sunday paper), and a small yard packed with flowers- irises, gladiolas, sweet peas and hanging pots of fuchsias, with concrete yard statues of deer, dwarves and a little bridge we weren't allowed to stand on.  

    She was not the typical grandma.  A bartender at the local cardroom - her purple marble gravestone was a gift from the regulars, it says so on it.  Dinner at her place could be dreadful.  Customers would bring in their extra catch of the day to share with her...frog legs, rabbit, smelt...you never knew what you'd be eating.  She loved watching pro-wrestling.  And she would bring home the empty plastic lemon and lime shaped juice containers from her bartending job and tie them into her tree saying, "Now I can imagine I live somewhere tropical".  

    Grandma was the first one to teach me handwork- embroidery, a little rug hooking, and in her last couple of years, crochet.  That was more than twenty years ago.  She would crochet those zig-zag afghans in polyester yarn, take them to the bar and sell raffle tickets to the customers.  When she felt she'd made enough money, she'd draw a winner. 

    You can see above that she loved to laugh, especially after a few beers.  I remember this night, Christmas Eve with Grandma, Aunts, Uncles and cousins.  We were sitting on my bedroom floor, chanting that song "I'm Going On A Bear Hunt", laughing so hard that she had joined in.

    I just realized that the day the yarn was hung in the tree was her birthday, no wonder she's on my mind.

    I miss Blanche.

the finish line-tdf 2011

    Well, 23 skeins, 3 bitty ones, a couple hand carded, learning to chain ply and core spin, and now it's over.  Tour de Fleece has taken over the living room and a chunk of my life for the last couple of weeks, but it was so much fun getting to know a few of my favorite fiber people a bit more via Ravelry.  Now, what to do with it all???

    It was interesting to look back at what and how I spun.   Clockwise, starting in the lower right-  beginning with pinks, including shrinky dink add-ins for the "lydia the tattooed lady" yarns, then to my comfortable blues and greens, moving into the "roald dahl" batts that are part of a SAL, and ending in citrusy colors (trying to brighten up the gray days).  Also, at the start I was plying, trying and learning new techniques, at the end it was simple singles.  I think I'll give my wheel (and back) a well deserved rest.

reflection balls

    A very busy week- of birthday boys (K & Moon).  The latter turned nine with a "Boy's Birthday Bowling Bash" party.   It was fun and simple.  We don't usually do parties.  Usually, just a special day with a friend.  

    Do you remember bowling?  I was on a league one summer, 6th grade, an average of 129.  One of my earliest memories is being at the bowling alley day care, while mom bowled with her league.  And I remember the first time I rolled a bowling ball, Dad standing behind me, helping to give it enough "umph" as I granny shot it down the lane.  I remember when my dad came home from his & mom's league with patch for getting a turkey.  I miss score keeping.  And mom had a matching ball and shoes- with swirling light blue & white, I thought they were beautiful.   Our home town alley is closed now.  

    Bowling, such a wonderful weird filled thing in my mind.

(I wound that ball of yarn during the party, using the rounded back of the bowling chairs- it was perfect, I need one of them at home) 

five and twenty baby birds and a baked pie

    Usually, when a friend asks you for a favor, you expect, "Can I have a ride?" or "Can you watch my cat?".  

    Not, "Could you drive twenty-five chicks back to their farm?"  

    They were borrowed for visiting grandchildren.  (Don't you wish she were your grandmother?)  We drove them to the farm this morning, 45 minutes of their sweet chirping.  Not quite the same intensity as Grace's adventure, but I did take the curves more slowly.

    And now home, baking an apple pie.  Today is K's birthday.  I first noticed him 32 years ago this month.  I was dating someone else.  I wrote in my diary that night,             "I am NEVER getting married, but if I do, it will be to someone like K."                    I was half right- the important half.

bursting

    Two nights ago,  stitching on the nine-patch.  Simple small stitches in straight lines...content.  

    When suddenly...an idea came....and another...and another...images came like rapid fire...I swear there were sparks going off in my head...I saw bursts of light, like the ones in Grace's cloth, as if fireworks were popping, crackling behind my eyes.  The flashes stopped my needle in it's tracks. I closed my eyes, taking them in, trying to hold on to all them, stunned.  I think I lost a few, but not the amazing feeling that came with them.  

So, now I'm stitching again.

Stitching that may or may not resemble those glimmers, or give off light to anyone else,                                                                                         but somehow something has changed.

(sorry, the photos are dark and gray.  inspite of the lights in my brain, the sky is full of dark, drippy clouds)
 

words

    While waiting for the big picture to come for this next cloth, (or even a medium picture will do), I've started writing down words-words that mean something to me, words that I like the sound of, words that flow when I write them...

    ...moon, blue, sea, twilight, hush, almost, pine, billabong, river, pond, wind, crescent, office, sky, swell, frump, starry, twist, egg, bird, bower bird, blue satin bower bird, flotsam, seaside, hobbledehoy, moonshine, almost, scamper, scurry, putter, woods, skedaddle, collect, words, stories...

    There are lots more.  There are themes in there- sky, water, forest, movement.  I like this list.  I can see it's going to grow and grow...

    ...growth, cloth, meaning, patch, indigo, stitch, stories...

salvaging selvedge

    Puttering with this as I move fabric from here to there, ruminating the possibilities for this new workshop, still stirring the ideas that are not quite in focus yet.  I've been saving selvedges in balls for years and years.  There wasn't a plan for them, just really liked the dots of colors and the names of designs.  In recent years I've seen them put into action by others...made into clothing, bags, etc., more than I want to take on.  Finally using a few of them in pieces inspired by the Spiritcloth workshops.  This box weaving is fun, awkward at times, finagling these little skinny bits, trying to get dots and words I like to rise to the top.  Don't know if it will ever be anything more than this practice of weave and stitch, but it keeps the hands busy while the mind wanders and ponders bigger cloth.

still pondering possibilites

    More dipping and re-dipping in the indigo. Moving beyond muslin and goodwill sheets- some scraps of silk and embroidered cotton and my own old sheet.  A busy few days, but evenings of jude's "glue stitching" the nine-patch to more of the old sheet.  (Love the glue stitch more than I can say.)   Getting it all ready...for what?