handstories

& beyond

    Found in a UFO pile (unfinished objects).  A lot of unstitching happened, new scraps were added, along with one of Jude's moons from ThreadCrumbs.

    And then it started to flow...  I was waking up as the sun rose, hurrying through shower, oatmeal and tea to get back to it.  The hours of the days slipped away.  I was told I'm becoming feral.

    When it was almost finished, someone asked if I usually have a plan?  Rarely.  It usually starts with scraps and goes from there.  Ideas come as I stitch along.  The story grows too.  The best ones tell me something about myself.  Understanding another layer of that was the gift of this one.  That there is a strong deep relationship between going and connection.

    So much to think and feel about.

    "Beyond"

memory making

    Yesterday was a very welcomed quiet day alone with thread and cloth.  The small light blue stitches that echo the marks on the background are my favorite part.  There is no memory of dyeing it, walnut and indigo must have been involved.  So much slips away.

    Sunday was spent with two close friends, celebrating the fiftieth birthday of one of them.  A drive to Snoqualmie Falls for lunch and the view (That tiny orange spot in the water is a kayaker.  How amazing it must be to be down there in it.), and then back for a few hours of cake and talking.  There was reminiscing and piecing together stories of students we shared over the last twenty years, when we were all teaching together.  Having history with these two women is a treasured gift.

story-less

    A boat was made.

    And then a tree.  There is a story about this day, but the words aren't in focus.

    Today this.  As is often true when I step out of my boat/tree box, I'm not sure what's happening here.  

    The photo is a bit blurry because of being taken late in the evening, which is actually fine, because it all seemed this fuzzy when I finally stopped.  Those tiny stones were an exercise in small motor skills.  

    At first it was about the moon with absolutely no idea that the stones would show up.  I had thought there would be trees, or at least plants.

     Something more belongs in the sky.  Not that circle and a half of blue around the moon, those stitches were just pulled out after seeing them here.  Maybe I will know what's coming tomorrow.

    Today I was afraid of becoming dull with all of this time alone.  That words are slowing and floating away, out of reach.  We shall see.

leaning towards autumn

    A few new pieces are in the shop for the last update of summer.

    With Blue gone, Moon's work schedule changed, and K. vacationing at home this week, these last days of summer feel loose and a little lost.  Transitions and I have not always been good playmates in the past, but I'm really looking forward to pieces of this fall.  Creating rhythm and routines for myself is one of them.  With no school commitments for the first time in thirty years, the days are wide open.  

    Maybe I'll start this new journey with a few boats...they have a way of grounding me.

moon blue

    Almost five am.  Woke up over an hour ago.  Just before Blue's alarm went off.  An early flight for him.  K. is dropping him off at the airport right now.   Gone until Christmas.  Back to Ohio, for his senior year.  One more year and then who knows? 

        This piece was the last two days.  The moon was unexpected.

    There was actually the start of a star, first traced in soap, and then outline basted in orange thread.  After a bunch of pale blue thread beads were in, it just seemed wrong.  The moon called.

    But really, it's all about the blue, and Blue.

home star

    A star stitched on the road during our family vacation this last week.  K. and I had wished for a quiet island getaway, but the boys voted for city life, they wanted to "DO" things.  Fine.  

    I wrote up a list of possible activities in the places we would be, asked everyone to pick their top three choices (mine were the only votes for museums).  Selections were compiled and organized into days so that everyone's wishes could happen (including an art museum).  

    On the first day they both said they hoped that we wouldn't be doing things all of the time, that they would need time to relax...honestly.

    Blue heads back to school for his senior year in a couple of days.  This may have been our last trip with him living here.  Lots of feelings, in many directions.

    I'm so glad for cloth and thread and home.

parenting (& cloth)

    With the first layer there are hopes and dreams, imagining how it might be, and even the fun of the unknown.  You try to make things light and beautiful.

    And then new things are layered on, adding depth and mystery, and the unknown can take on an ominous feeling.  

    And all you can do is hope that in the end, all of the loving, caring and hard work... everything that went into it all...

    Will shine through.

love sutures

    Good thing that bag was packed.  There was another trip to Urgent Care that day.  While waiting for the next thing to happen, out came a needle and blue thread to mark the blanket covering my friend.  "There!  You've got a kiss on you!"

    And on the sheet,

    the pillowcase,

    the curtain,

    And her sleeve.

    The stitches and photos are wonky, quickly done just in case the next doctor/nurse/CT scanner/whoever appeared.  They probably won't be noticed, and if so, maybe they'll make someone wonder, or even smile?  Or they will be unwelcome graffiti (that isn't knotted, so easily removed).

    Anyway, they helped to pass the time, and made her laugh during four stressful hours.  (And things were ok in the end.)

trying to think in pictures and words

    This is the third attempt at a post.  First I wrote a gruesome memory involving twins, a bicycle and a big toe.  And then a sappy meandering through hill thoughts.  Try, try, again...

    My friend's recovery from surgery has been slow and bunny-hopping with setbacks.  I drive across the bridge every few days (which has been its own adventure), and stay with her for some hours while her partner tends to other parts of their lives.  Each time I pack a bag- stitching, notebook, novel, magazine (in case I can't concentrate at all).  Rarely does any of it come out of the bag.  We talk and talk, as she rests in bed- about selves, family, people we know, my parenting, her upcoming wedding, Maya Angelou, memories of first grade reading groups... anything and everything.

    Another pink hill.  I still don't know why they are in my head and heart.  Fairytale like and full of childhood memories, maybe?  Why the "and..."?  The lines in the fabric invited a word to be written.  There was an "and" discussion this week, how it's much kinder than "but...".  It's true, and it will take some practice.  And it makes me think of storytelling... "and then...".

    And now I'm going to go pack up my bag again, and head over the bridge, to tell some more stories about who knows what...