handstories

floating dots of thoughts

"The Quiet Filled Her"

    I soothed myself with this piece.  That's another bit of Deb's indigo dyed silk in that left corner.  It was a gift when we met in real life for the first time, last autumn, a lifetime ago.

    Something I've really been looking forward to was cancelled yesterday.  These days it feels hard to hope for anything.

"Lui," "Fatima" and "Fern."

    The first two are names of students at my last school.  There were two girls named Fatima- both were challenging and full of spirit.  K. had a great Aunt Fern.  She lived on the family homestead property and was near a hundred when I met her.  She lived to be 102.   These tree tokens are fun to make.  Ten are finished for tomorrow's shop update.  They've spent the week on the table, becoming friends.  Naming them makes it a little harder to let them go.

    To cheer myself up last night, I ordered two new paints.  "Smalt Blue" and "Rain Cloud".  A blue and a gray.  Surprise, surprise.  They should be here next week...something to look forward to!

"In A World of Their Own"

    I have been thinking a lot about friends.

    This morning Moon stumbled down the stairs half an hour after online school began, after ignoring his alarm clock three times.  "This is Monday, isn't it?  Shoot."  Then headed back up the stairs to turn the computer on.  Later, we got the call from the attendance office.  For years we've heard the message..."This is to inform you that your student was marked absent..."  Now it says, "This is to let you know that we are not sure if your student participated in class today..."  It's hard to be sure of anything.

"She Wondered About it All" 

    The debate about whether or not Blue should come home for the holidays continues.  

    Needing to go to the grocery store, and desperate to see something different, K. and I drove to a different co-op in another town this afternoon.  It was good to wander through someplace new.

   

"She Knew Her Own Magic".

    I'm realizing that it's really important to figure out new ways to surprise myself.

    I hope you are all faring well enough and finding some magic in your own worlds.

    OXO, Hazel

Here

    So it seems photos come and go now... me, too.

    Back to the murder nightmares, balanced with dreams of making salads and trying to host parties while having the house evaluated/judged by a stranger.

    If you have Netflix, do watch "My Octopus Teacher."  It's beautiful.  It brought back so many water memories.  (Including skinny dipping nights in the Pacific with a girlfriend back in college.)

    The "Rhythm" booklet has found a home, it is now a part of the Bainbridge Island Museum of Art, Cynthia Sears Collection!  Inspired by Langston Hughes' wonderful book, The First Book of Rhythms, creating it was a meeting place of a love of books, language, cloth and stitching for me.

    Many of the techniques in Jude's workshops were used in the making- weaving, integrated applique, cloth layering, etc.  I'm full of gratitude to her, Velma and Catherine who have all had roles in guiding the way.  This community is a heart filling thing.

    There is a video of looking through the book over on Instagram, click HERE to see...  Also, you can click on the "Rhythms" category below to read old posts about the process, if you like.

Little things

    I do love getting caught up in stitches.  This time it was in imagining Deb's dyeing taking on a life of its own.

    Days are tense with the unknown lately.  Weighing risks and responsibilities to each other with emotional needs.  And what is a need vs a want?

    A new pair of socks.  My eyes and mind get a rest in the evenings with knitting, also in the dentist's chair.  No one there even bats an eye anymore as I knit while they tend my teeth.  We all know that it gets me through.

    There was a walk with a friend yesterday.  The first in a long time because of  twanging my knee a few weeks ago.  Very glad to have it back in mostly working order. 

    She has studied and is passionate about horticulture, and shares a wealth of information- stopping to admire leaf shapes, color combinations and to share the Latin names and uniqueness of each plant, tree, flower.  I'm grateful for how she makes me slow down.  This is Viburnum trilobum, or Cranberrybush.

    The email with the concert link has gone out today.  Please let me know if you didn't get it, or if you were missed.

More trees & seas

“It Was a Map of Possibilities”

    Trees and boats, back and forth.  Grounding and going.  Holding on and trusting.  Knowing and wondering.  Strength and bravery.

    I'm really liking the grays lately, and how they add to and deepen other colors.

    This painting makes me think of an inukshuk.

"Anika"

    The tree tokens are being named now.  Names from heroes, storybook characters, former students, and ones that I just like.  Sometimes it's clear who they are while stitching,  others take a while to get to know.  I'm hoping a Ramona will show up.

   How many trees does it take to make a forest?  This small stand will be in the shop in the morning (Saturday, 11/14, 9am PST), along with a handful of story cloths.  Thanks for taking a peek.

Trees, teeth & singing in saucepans

    Stitched, unstitched and re-stitched during the day of the election.  One of Jude's moons, a piece of Deb's cloth and some of my indigo dying.  Maybe it will become more, maybe a moon cabin quilt?  Maybe.

    The next morning I got up early to go out and say goodbyes to two of our trees.  This cherry out front and the big maple behind the house.  Both were not well, dying, and there was a fear that the maple might fall on the house below, where 95 yr. old Mrs. C. lives.  It was time.

    I wrapped my arms around each of them, saying goodbye and thank you.  One of them wept sap onto my sweatshirt.

    There were more tears at the last moments of the maple.  That square of missing bark is where they cut out Blue's initial for me.  He carved it there the day before he left for college for me to see out of the kitchen window.

    It looks naked.  The Japanese maple was below that front window when we moved in 28 years ago.

    I probably should've written "mourning trees".

    Later that evening, trying to check-out from the events of the week, a crown came off of a tooth, because Friday evenings are the ideal time for teeth issues.  It was taken care of yesterday.
 

    There was also a conversation with Mom, and a need to revise my last post.  I may have yelled, "How am I related to you?!?"  She just laughed.  Sigh.

    Moving on, and hopefully into calmer waters...

    Lastly, our singing group has gone on-line during this quarantine time, and next Monday (November 16th, 7 pm PST), we are having our second virtual concert.  It will be an hour of  silliness and Seattle.  If you would like to see me in a saucepan (and other makeshift costumes), please leave a comment and I will send out an email with the link this weekend.

    Click here for the commercial...

Holding Hope

    Creating calm.  The scrap of blue silk on the top is from Deb's indigo dying.  It's like a breath of fresh air.

    The days have been dark and blustery, but there is a moment in the afternoon when the Japanese maple glows through the window.

    Connections are everywhere.

    I remember my parents going to vote when I was around twelve.  It was dark out, they were bundling up to walk the two blocks to the grade school where the voting booths were set up in the gym.  I asked them what party they were voting for.  Dad was a Democrat, Mom is Republican.  "Then why bother going at all?" I asked.

    "To cancel each other out."

    I've started naming the tree tokens.  This is Odetta, yes, after the wonderful folk singer/activist.  This morning I wept watching this.  Satyagraha.

Pushing through

    There is too much and too little going on.  The house needs dusting and a wolf spider was hanging out in the middle of the dining room floor the other evening.  There was a loud crashing screeching as we went to bed last night, followed by a firetruck siren, and construction noises all night.  Someone had lost control taking the curve uphill, taking out a telephone pole, some fencing, and the corner of the house a block up from us. 

    Moon asks about how he can spend time with friends this winter?  There is a ticket for Blue to home for a couple of weeks in December after a year away, but should he? The frustration that there are no good risk-free answers. 

    Things seem to take so much effort.  There is a fear of moving, doing anything risky or unknown.  I question everything.  Trust very little.  It's the election and/or pandemic fatigue, I'm sure.  Does it help having a name for it?  I don't know.

    Just as I was about to post this, Moon came home, walked through the door, dropped his bag, and said, "I need you to stand up.  I need a hug."  Obliging as fast as I could, I wrapped my arms around his skinny over-six foot tall body.  "I love you, Mom," as he held me tight back.

    Driving home, he came upon a man sitting in the middle of the busy road.  He and three other people got out of their cars to see if he needed help.  He appeared homeless and said that he wanted to die.  They all stayed with him, talking to him, diverting traffic, etc., until help arrived.

    Moon is upset that he won't ever know what happened to the man, if he'll be ok?

    "It's really hard," I said, "but we have to try to trust."  Not knowing whether I believe it myself.

    I think this one is about all the ways and places we might grow.