handstories

more circling

    Almost finished with the Portland Pullover from the latest issue of Taproot magazine.  An easy-peasy pattern.  It's only taken two of weeks of evenings to get this far.  A couple of alterations in length and ribbing were made (I'm tall, and too wide to want garter stitch stripes highlighting my hipline).  The color is "Paris Night".  It will be a welcome addition to the required Monday school uniform of navy and khaki.  Maybe I should stitch a few stars on the sleeve to help transport me away for a few moments when surrounded by the classroom chaos? 

round & round she goes

    Circling the two classrooms today, working with students on their reports on the mimic octopus or springbok gazelle (both are fascinating creatures that have myriad ways of protecting themselves from predators, by the way), I was struck again by how environment can account for so much of our skill set.  Reading their sentences back to them, hoping they could hear what words were missing, or what grammar changes might be needed, finding that many of them couldn't.  If you don't hear words being used in the "standard" way in your world, how can you know?  And is it fair to expect them to?  But there's also the knowing that people are judged by the way they talk and write.  

    I grew up in a family without a lot of formal education, dyslexia, and its own culture, among other things.  You might "communicate" to work, rather than "commute," picnics were "pic-a-nics".  We were fine enough, all of us smart in our own ways, I didn't think about it much.  Until going out in the world.  College friends would comment after I returned from time back home, "I can tell you've been hanging out with your family," and once I was told I had "the most idiosyncratic way of speaking" he had ever heard.  (I had to go home and look it up to know whether it was a good thing or not.  Still not sure.)  And I will never ever remember whether I am lying, laying or laid out on the bed, so I try to avoid those words all together.

    All to say, that I still don't know how best to work with these kids.  How to support their growth, offer them tools that will give them more choices, but not to make them feel "wrong" when there is such a wide gap for them to straddle?

Later:  P.S.  I just remembered I forgot to "edit" & "spellcheck" & discovered I had the wrong word up there.  It is now corrected to "idiosyncratic".  Geesh, the word-work never ends.  And just in case you're like me:

 Idiosyncratic- "an unusual way in which a particular person behaves or thinks"

(I think I'm going to go with this being a good thing, seeing as it doesn't seem likely to change any time soon!)

steady as she goes . . .

    This one seems quieter . . . me, too. 

moonrise

    The moon didn't quite land where intended.

    And not being one who likes to backtrack, sailed into a new vista.

    Well, really not so new, more sea and sky.  I wonder how many ways there are to look at them? 

    This tiny vessel just about did my eyes and finger tips in.

    (The beautiful golden-orange fabric was dyed by Heike Gerbig.)

a good kind of jumble

    Thinking, thinking, thinking . . . about orange,

and blue,

and children, and mittens, and cloth, and wool, and the divine, and feelings, and making, and sharing, and story.  And so much more, that you would think that I would have something coherent to say.

    But nope, it's all a mishmash.  Hopefully, after some more digging and diving, there will something worthwhile to report soon.

regrouping

    Last night brought a nightmare of the end of the world.  A new ice age was on its way.  With only a backpack to carry supplies, I filled it with crayons and oranges, and could only find one mitten for the boys to share, as we set out on foot, in search of warmth.

    Woke up exhausted and stressed. Getting ready for school I realized it was Tuesday, not the Monday it felt like, and that I had forgotten to prepare for the reading group.  So, hurrying . . . spilled toothpaste on the navy shirt, that I needed to wear for uniform day . . . while wiping it off, the toothbrush leaped into an impossibly tight corner behind the shelf, I fetched it out, full of lint and gunk . . . spilled the tea getting into the car . . . got to school late, due to construction . . . looked in a mirror to see if my shirt still looked wet from the wiping . . . it was dry, but there was still big toothpaste smudges on my chest . . . messed up one of the teacher's charts (with red ink), handed it back to her half finished, "Sorry, I just can't today."  Fumbled through the rest of the day.

    Came home.

    Stitched stars.  

setting sail

    The last stitches were three tiny star wishes on the backside.

    Originally, the word "drifting" was in the title of this post, but this little boat is not wandering aimlessly, it has intent.  It will soon be making its way to Wendy Golden-Levitt, a therapist who uses textiles in her work with children (beautiful articles about her process here and here).  I wrote to her last summer, asking if I could make a sea and sky cloth for her, wanting to share some of how, when I was growing up, the deep wide ocean and star-filled night sky gave hope that there was something bigger out there.  

    In trying to imagine what might touch a child, there were journeys into self and spirit, and a few small course corrections in thought.  I am so very grateful to Wendy.  The stitching of this cloth has been a gift to myself, with some healing in the making and memories.  

    In our exchange of emails today, she wrote many insightful, spot-on things.  Here are a few . . .

    "The children working through trauma, often have their faith in something bigger than themselves dismantled…as often our parents play the first role in trusting the ineffable , the unseen world of what is larger than us…" . . . "This cloth will become a part of that deep river that the kids work in to regain trust. trust that they have access to that larger than I, world of hope and imagination…of faith…"

    I could not hope for anything more.

treasures in her hold

(Please click here, and then come back to continue reading . . .) 

    "Out of my window looking in the night,
    I can see the barges' flickering light.
    Silently flows the river to the sea,
    As the barges too go silently.
        Barges, I would like to go with you, 
        I would like to sail the ocean blue.
        Barges, have you treasures in your hold?
        Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?…"

     (These are a few of the lyrics from  "Barges," one of my favorite songs from Campfire Girl days.)

    At camp we would make small boats of bark and twigs, with leaves for sails.  On the last evening, we would light a little candle on each of them, and set the boats into the water at one end of the creek, while making a wish.  Running around the bend and along the bank, to the other end of the stream, we would sing this song while waiting for our vessel to appear.  If it made it, with its flame still flickering, our wish would come true.

    Filling this little boat with treasure made for a lot of happy thoughts.

        "One of these days and it will not be long
     You will look for me and I’ll be gone
     Face to the wind far out upon the sea
     Where the whales and dolphins sing to me…"

hatches battened

    Tacked down the sail ties on the "Sea & Sky" cloth.  

    It's intended for children to handle, so it seems the more secure, the better.

    The back cloth is a pretty pale indigo silk, but still, all of those loose stitches and thread ends might catch or be caught by little fingers.

    A nine-patch of Maiwa squares was running stitched over it.

    And then the running stitches were unstitched.  They stood out too much on part of the sky.  Restitching that area, using Jude's "glue" stitch, was a big improvement.  (You can see the difference between the top and bottom parts of the photo above.)

    There's one more thing I've been saving to do at the end . . .

query & quirky

    Next month we are going to London for a week.  (Blue's choice for his senior year trip)  It's been twenty years since I've been to England, and I'm wondering if any of you might have suggestions for wonderful spots to visit?  (There will, of course, be some of the usual guidebook sites, including the boys' requests for a soccer game and the Harry Potter Studios.)  

    As for the quirky . . . the strangest holiday gift of the year was for Moon.  He had seen some giant knitted chain link scarves and wanted some.  Using this pattern, I was able to knit up some of his love of rainbow (a place for that hot pink he wished for).  They are actually quite fun and fast to do, just a little awkwardness in getting each loop started inside of the last one, and the knitted fabric curls in on itself, so no sewing required.  He was thrilled, and they now hang from post to post at the end of his bed.