handstories

the "drawing"

    A big thank you to those who left a comment on Monday's post.  The gifts of your kind and generous words fill me.  

    Today is going to be a bit of a busy and out-of-norm day, so rather than coming up with some fancy-dancy way of drawing a name, I turned to the Random Number Generator for the first time ever.

    And look, it came up with my favorite number . . .13!  The thirteenth comment was left by Grace, who asked that if she won that the cards be sent to Michelle . .  . and the circle of giving continues.  So, Michelle, I'll be in touch with you later today, and some cards will be sailing on their way to you soon.  

    Again, love and gratitude is being sent out to all of you for being a part of this journey! 

    OX, Hazel

being moved by moss

    Is that a thing?  Can you be moved by moss?  Even moss you make yourself?

    Three days, of probably three to four hours at a time.  Absolutely absorbed.  Yesterday, knowing I was nearing the end, and so excited . . . kept going, squinting, hunching over while leaning towards the lingering light from the window on my left . . .  After adding the last couple of stars to the watery edge.  Standing up, blurry eyed, creaking, I showed it to Moon.  

       "Look what I'm making!"

             "Are you making yourself blind?" 

       "I'm making myself happy!"

    Star, cross, running, bead, french knot, satin, daisy, teeny-tiny stitches, and I don't even know what to call that wide-open bumpy one on the bottom left.  And remembering one of the best lessons from Jude, there is a barely-there rainbow of threads, that really made all of the difference.  Just as she said.

    It's forests and fairies and day-dreamed of lands . . . just a bit more to do . . .

    "I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine"    

    -William Shakespeare "A Midsummer Night’s Dream"

 

(p.s. this is the last day to leave a comment on Sunday's post for the drawing…)

to moss

"[maws, mos]

    noun

    1.  any tiny, leafy-stemmed, flowerless plant of the class Musci, reproducing by spores and growing in tufts, sods or mats on moist ground, tree trunks, rocks, etc.

    2.  a growth of such plants.

    3.  any of various similar plants, as Icelandic moss or club moss.

    verb (used with object)

    5.  to cover with a growth of moss:  to moss a crumbling wall."   (dictionary.com)

    Having a splendid time "mossing" this little square.  Most of the afternoon was spent working on filling in spaces and crevices.  The cloth is starting to shift and curve with the stitches, so I'm learning to be mindful to the weight of the thread and tension.  The greens are soothing to these scratchy watery eyes.  It's become a playground for the spirit.

a circle of giving

    Some of the pieces from the last twelve months.  It was a year ago today that the first squares went into the shop.  They were started with a wondering if I could shape stories in a small way?  Exploring that has been a wonderful journey.  I love making these little cloths, these handstories.  

    I lose and find myself in them.      

    Feeling that these little makings might make connections with the stories of some of you has been an amazing gift.

    Recently I heard an interview with artist Serena Barton, about sharing her work with others . . . "It closes the circle for me . . . It comes from me, and I put it out there, then you bring your own responses to it based on your experience and your personality, and sometimes we'll connect and that's really magical when that happens!"

    It is magical.  Each time one of them sets sail to a new home, the sense of a continuing adventure fills me.  At this end, it's a voyage into the unknown, as each one is wrapped in a cloth and kiss, with wishes for continued hoping and dreamings when they reach their new destination.

 

    To celebrate and to say thank you to all of you who have encouraged and joined me on this adventure, I'd like to send out a set of my notecards.  Whether you've made a purchase, left a comment, or felt kindred in spirit, just leave a comment on this post through Thursday.   On Friday, all of the names will go into a hat and we'll see who pops out!

moss & memory

    This one comes from the noticing of moss and lichen on the trees yesterday.  There's a long deep love of moss here.  There is a beautiful reserve nearby, the moss garden is my favorite place there.

 

    And there's Rosemary Well's Moss Pillows.  It's part of the sweetest little set of books, Voyage to the Bunny Planet, where young bunnies experience terrible days, and then discover . . . "Far beyond the moon and stars, twenty light-years south of Mars, spins the gentle Bunny Planet, and the Bunny Queen is Janet."  Queen Janet takes them to "the day that should have been."  I read them all of the time, back when I was teaching little ones, even made myself a Bunny Planet dress.

    So, I will keep going on this one, while thinking on lovely cool green peaceful soft comfy days.

    And this morning, at 4:30 am, Blue leaving for the airport, back to college.  Without my glasses on, I snapped this photo of him loading his luggage in the trunk.  Looking at it in the light of day now, with him somewhere up in the sky.  He's barely a ghost here, how strange.  All of the beautiful greens, and him just a blur of memory.

drifting . . .

    She got a sail, and a few other sparkling bits.  

    This one got some stars to twirl in.

    Both pieces still need backings . . . traveling very slowly these days.  

    Imagine watching the minute hand move.

pink wishing

    A woman in the painting class had a beautiful pink, a happy bright cheery pink.  Classmates were referring to it as "Barbie Pink."  Having always been bad at Barbie (I wrote about it here), I was very happy to learn it had a different name, "Opera Pink", and asked for it for my birthday.  

    K. thinks I make very dull wish lists, "Paint, and a pen?"  (There were earphones on there, too.)  It's because I hate shopping.  I can happily wander in a art, book or yarn shop, but it's like pulling teeth to get myself there.  (I also dislike driving.)  When it comes to shopping for anything else, especially clothes, that's another story.  I'd rather go to the dentist.  (Probably another reason I was so bad at Barbie.)

    Anyhow, I had a lovely time messing around with the new pink yesterday.   The orange and green stripes are a little strong.  It was a relaxing and rosy piece of time anyway.

congestion

    Slowly . . . through the haze of the pink-budding-trees-hay-fever-inducing fog.  I don't think it's the actual cherry blossoms that cause my allergies, but they are a sign to take cover, meds, and extra showers, in attempts at clearing my head, with lots of naps in-between.  This year appears to be a doozy on the pollen chart.

post-yesterday

    The first gift was having Blue come home for his spring break at midnight Friday night, and give the very first greeting for my new year.  

    Yesterday, we drove in pouring rain to see the last stop of the Fiber Fusion show.  

    It was nice to see both of my pieces near each other (top right and in the case.  Leslie Levenson's "Maple Tree" on the left).

    "Wanderlust" Booklet.

    "As It Is and Should Be"

    There was carrot cake.

    And stitching- appliquéing more stones, mostly from gifted cloth.

    They turned into pockets.

    With messages written inside.

    There is more to say about this- the gifts, pockets, messages . . . about gratitude and acceptance, and seeing Self.  I'm still working through it, trying to get clear.  

    There is sunshine today.

Jacob Lawrence

    Yesterday we went on a field trip to see Jacob Lawrence's The Migration Series at the Seattle Art Museum.

    One large space contained all sixty panels.  We circled the four walls of the room, following his story of the Great Migration.

    He drew all of the panels in pencil, placed them on the floor, and then proceeded to paint them all at once, one color at a time-painting all of the brown areas, all of the red, etc… like a self-made coloring book of his people's story.

    My painting teacher had him for a professor.  She remembers how kind he was, and the wonderful gatherings he would have with his students at his home.

    The series is being shown in honor of what would have been Mr. Lawrence's 100th birthday.  It's been twenty years since all of the panels were last displayed together, making this a very special exhibit.

    I was not prepared, but tried to answer, the students' questions about this piece, "There were lynchings".

    When asked how they felt looking a specific panel, the children's answers ranged from "Hopeful." to "Afraid."

    Another trip to the exhibit is planned, as corralling fifteen, growing hungry and tired, fourth graders did not allow for much lingering or pondering.  But I'm very glad these children were able to have the chance to experience this, and to wonder about the migration stories in their own families, both past and present.