handstories

melting & melding

    Of cloth, of stitch, and of thoughts.

    Almost done, one last element to add.  

    With many thanks to Jude for the lessons she shares, full of stitches and heart.

stuffed

    Stuff.  There is so much of it.  After 23 years of not having a cable to our house, the new internet required it.  I cleaned out the end of the room where the box would go.  Moving Stuff to the other to deal with later.  Turns out it had to go in the other end…MY end.  Where my Stuff lives.  One thing led to another, like dominoes, and I started going through some of the STUFF.  It seems to grow and multiply with each basket I go through.

    New goal:  To knit through the baskets of early spinnings.  The thick yarns that I'd forgotten about, or ignored.

    In the evenings, when my hands want to move, but my brain doesn't, and the eyes are tired and unfocussed.

    No patterns, just trying them on my head as I go.

    When there is a pile, they will be donated.  Where they can be useful, keeping people warm and snug, and unstuffing a corner of my life.

all over the place

    Stitching at this in all kinds of directions at once . . . working on the base, stitching down the heart, stitching under the heart . . . with no idea of where it will all land.  Just like love.

what the heart can hold

    Moon drew the heart shape for the "Hearts for Charleston" square.  

    Three became one.

    Heart view.

    One became more.

discreet buttons

    I finished my friend's scarf, the same pattern as this one.  The photo above shows the three corners meeting with the "discreet buttons" she asked for.   I guess the long dangly ones on mine (here) are a bit much for some folk.  (I do enjoy walking along, listening to them click-clack against each other, while humming, "She's got spurs that jingle-jangle-jingle…")

  Spun from these Nest fiber, knit into this pattern.

shhh . . .

    Everyone is off to school, and a square begun for Dee's "Hearts for Charleston Quilt".  More about this another time . . . I've got more tea to drink and very quiet stitching to do . . .

reprieve

    On Monday, K took the day off (bless him), and we headed up to Guemes Island for the day.

    There was gathering,

    playing,

    walking,

    learning of a new word  (palimpsest "1. writing material, used one or more times after earlier writing has been erased.  2.  something having usually diverse layers or aspects apparent beneath the surface."),

    sky watching,

    building,

    and tomorrow, a week and a day late, school will start for the 53,000 students of Seattle.  Thank the stars.  

limbo . . . day four

    Things go on and on . . .

rumpled

    There is a lot going on and nothing much at all, both at once . . .  life.  There has been marathon knitting for a belated birthday gift.  

    Lots of blue stitches across Blue's quilt, that require no thinking, allowing time to appreciate the sensation of needle and thread going through cloth.  Knowing that seventeen year old Blue would rather have a store bought plain blanket, but hoping that future Blue will appreciate these wonky lines.

    A marking of the center, so that I don't get completely lost, while navigating relationships and expectations.

    A wondering if the boys will start school tomorrow, due to the pending teacher's strike.   A not knowing of whether or not I will have a job for a couple more weeks, due to other public school issues.  

    Last night I was feeling like a pile of rags.  I was getting out the mental iron to try to flatten myself out and erase the evidence of wanting, neediness, and all of the questions that come with self-doubt.  Instead I decided to stop, to not go there.  

    Next to the bed were the few books I've been going back and forth in lately.  I looked at the good-for-me, self-reflective, enriching stack, and went and pulled out an old sappy young adult novel.

    Maybe I will get to the root of the wrinkles sometime, but for today, not smoothing over them will be enough.  I'm going to curl up with my old story, and just be.

where the river meets the sea

    September makes me so happy.  Always has.  Almost as happy as October.

    We are back from a quick trip to the coast.  There were some very strange parts on the trip, but also some fun and wonderful . . .

    This is what's left of the Peter Iredale, shipwrecked in 1906.

    Wouldn't it be great for the dye pot?

   Blue taught us to play Hearts.  It was a lot of fun, even though I lost magnificently.

    The Astoria–Megler Bridge spans the mouth of the Columbia River.  It is the longest continuous truss bridge in North America.

     Over four miles long, allowing plenty of time to sing "Roll On Columbia".

    We were able to sing through the verses we know twice.

    And there was a tunnel that brought to mind childhood Sunday drives up the Gorge, when we would hold our breaths, with our hands on the car ceiling (in case the tunnel collapsed!), while Dad honked the horn all the way through.  (Yes, I made the guys do the same.)

    Before coming home, we stopped at Cape Disappointment, where the Columbia flows into the Pacific Ocean.  It was grand to see the powerful meeting place of these two big waters.