handstories

Hoping

"Holding Hope"

Taking Time

    Waiting outside of the post office this morning at 8:58, waiting for it to open at 9:00, a man approached with his package.  Read the sign, sighed heavily, stood behind me. 

    At 9:01 he announced that it was 9:01. 

    9:03 a woman with her letter joined us.  "Isn't it after nine?"

    "Is anyone in there?!" he asked. 

    I looked through the window, "There's a light on in the back."  I knocked politely on the door.  (In the past, the regular postal worker has said that sometimes she gets so busy that she forgets to open the door.)  Nothing happened.

    9:05- The man approached the door and banged on it.  Woman and I raised our eyebrows.  Yelling something about google reviews he stormed off.  Woman and I looked at each other, more eyebrows.

    "The post office has a lot going on right now," I said to the woman.  "We don't have a regular mail carrier right now.  We seem to only get deliveries every other day now, after 7:00pm.  They're just doing the best they can."  She agreed, pointing to the "Help Wanted" sign on the door.

    9:08- A postal worker (not the usual one), scurrying, keys in hand, opened the door and held it open for us.

    We told her to take her time.  

    I have poked away at these stars off and on for two days.  Looking for something in them?  Answers?  Hope?  A path An escape?

    Liz saw a pendulum.  That feint pink line--- all of it hanging by a sketchy thread.  Will it swing back?  Crashing everything in its wake?  Or is it secure?  Swirling in the sky, sharing its light?

    I think I need to make some boats.

blurry

    Yesterday's and today's...

    While drawing today's, thinking of the children, the teachers, the families, my years of teaching, the lockdowns we practiced and experienced, remembering this day for Blue, and wondering what the story was for a broken boy who was able to get guns, but not help...

    While drawing, eyes closed, there was a skittering noise at the window above.  I opened my eyes to see a hummingbird trying to land on the window frame, one of the thin crossbars of wood around one of the small panes.  It was only a moment of seeing each other.  "Thank you," I said, as it zipped away.

    And then a walk in the arboretum near home.  Walking and walking, listening to the crows and ravens and a hummingbird.  These are quick blurry photos.  It's how it was.

    The blackberries are blooming.

Blackberries & Sunlight

"Blackberry Moon" 

    "Purple Rain" was hummed quite a few times while making this one.  (Substituting the word "moon", of course.)  I haven't considered myself a purple person for a long while now, but I do love blackberry, to eat or eye.  More and more lavender tones have moseyed into recent stitching.  Much of the credit goes to the allure of Deb's and Tina's dyeing.  

    A recent car knitting moment, when I looked down and realized I was blackberry and plum from top to bottom.  Grandma Blanche loved purple.  Trimmed her trailer in it, chose a purple nightgown to be buried in, and then there's the lavender marble headstone at her grave...

    It was a beautiful sunny weekend.  Shiny things were pulled closer and closer to play with the light and catch their reflections.  I must have mesmerized myself, because I dozed off mid-stitch at one point. 

"Convergence of Home & Sky"

Breathing room

    Still playing with the shiny new fabric.  Paired here with Deb and Tina's colors.

    These days the noisy jay fights for territory with these two.

    They sit outside my window yelling at the world, too.

    Twinkle also wrestles for space.

    Dentist appointment yesterday.  All kinds of too much.  (I talked about some of my teeth issues here.)  First the driving, something I rarely do these days.  Half an hour there, forty-five minutes back- some traffic lights were out from the wind, stop and go freeways, a few "PEOPLE!" exclamations were flung (and maybe a couple of other words).

    Approaching the dentist office, which is just off of a strip kind of a road, there were a couple of women crossing the street.  Women who make their livings walking the strip.  One was wearing a mask.  A new meaning for the term "safe sex".  The other woman made me do a double take.  She had no pants on.  A top, a jacket, and a thong.  She must have been cold in the wind.

    At the dentist- they all are very nice, but too many interactions, too many questions, "Do you want x-rays this time?"  "Fluoride?"  "Polishing?"...  I heard myself saying no to everything.  I just wanted out.  She did talk me into the x-rays, but I drew a line and refused to get the full panel one.  The regular x-ray led to discovering an issue, something needs replaced.  "Do I have to think about it today?"  No.  They didn't push.  They realized I had reached my limit.

    I was so glad to get home and stitch...breathe.  This piece, with its Threadcrumb moon, helped to center things again.

"Elsewhere"

Here

    Deb and Tina's cloths melting together with one of the indigo moons from last summer's vat.  A new thing with the rings, instead of just stitching.  Trying to make them more of the story, their own stories, too.  A bit fiddly, but still enjoyable, especially playing with bias possibilities and limits.

    These rings of color and light make me think of a rainbow. Dismantled and reconstructed at the same time.

    There was rain yesterday, all day, the kind that makes you think "monsoon season".  We didn't mind.  We worked quietly at our own things.  Quiet except for the Stellar Jay that yelled outside the window most of the afternoon.  Complaining about the rain, I think.

    Two of the rings are from new cloths.  It's been a long time since I was in a fabric store.  It was kind of like a visit to a candy shop- beautiful and overwhelming.  I bought a few fat quarters, which may have been chosen partly for their selvedge messages.  I used to be excited by the color dots on the edges, but now there are whole thoughts!

"Here We Are"

Considerations

"Moon Life"

    There were some days with family in Oregon this week.  So much storytelling happens when we're together.  My brother is great at the "gotcha" ones, just like Dad was.  There was a comforting happy comment from K, who said that if something ever happens to me, he'll need to spend more time with my sister, "I love watching the two of you, you're so much alike, and so funny together!"  We are a funny group.  At least we think so.

 

    I stitched myself into a starry corner with this piece, it seemed there were never going to be enough stars to fill the space I wanted covered.  I was seeing stars in the end.

 

"Sky Spells"

    There is no memory of where the textured cloth at the top came from.  It's silk, I think.  Is it considered seersucker?  I think the indigo was my doing.  So much is lost in (or out of) my head anymore.   

    I want to learn how to talk about making more, and need to, as I've just committed to doing it for a zoom hour next March.  My reaction to the request was the usual:  Flattered, sure that I didn't have anything worth sharing and couldn't possibly, panic, wondering how to graciously say "No, thank you", wishing that I could pull myself together to do such things... and on and on.  All of the usual well-practiced and repeated, fear-based things.

    The only thing that I did differently was to recognize that there is a middle place between yes and no, besides fear...  Maybe.  Possibly.

    My reply held questions, concerns, and a confession to never having done this before and not being sure how.  The response was warm and reassuring.  Realizing that I am tired of saying no out of fear, I wrote right back with a shaky "Yes."

    There is a notebook, once used for Moon's "Spanish 1, Ms. Perez, P-3" class, abandoned a few pages in, that now also has the word "Zoom" written on it.  It's where things that might be of interest to other stitchers are being written down as I work.  "Jude" and "The Circle Community" are a few of the first words.  

    Friends and therapist have reassured, "Just tell your stories..."

"In Her Dreams"

Something is more than Nothing

    After finishing the piece in my last post (Which I loved making, but it did require a lot of focus as bigger more involved things do.), I relaxed with these three tree tokens yesterday.  I really was thinking of birds but didn't have the wherewithal to figure out how to stitch them, so I gave them bird meaning names- Byrd, Quetzal, and Mavis.

    Mavis was the name of a woman in my hometown.  She wore baggy dresses, a big, long coat with drooping pockets, and bright lipstick.  We would see her out walking her little dog while we waited at the bus stop.  She was somewhere else in her mind.  Often talking to herself or yelling something we didn't understand.   I wonder what her story was?  

Yellowstone Falls via Blue, who facetimed me from a gas station where he had cell service finally.  Tonight they're in a yurt in Bryce Canyon.

    So, I guess tea painting became a thing for me.  Light brown from chamomile and yellow lime-green tea were added.  More flavors may be needed.

    Today has been a slow lazy one.  I did clean a bit of the bathroom.  K and I realize that we've become quite lax in doing what used to be the boys' chores.  Now that they're gone, all of those half-assed jobs that they did at cleaning every week are missed!

    Today a moon start.  Tomorrow, maybe more.  Happy weekend!

Bubbling

        This piece- I loved working on it.  It felt full and rich before any of the stitching began, Deb's magic.  Three different cloths dyed by her- loose cotton, linen, and I'm guessing a former sheet.  Love how they flow together, and with an indigo moon from last summer.

    Today is Blue's 24th birthday.  He's somewhere between The Badlands and Yellowstone.  Photos come now and then when there is reception.  Holding my breath that he'll be able to call sometime today.

 

    When I stopped stitching, it felt like it was floating. 

 

    The morning tea made the circle (Super Irish Breakfast).  The green spots were from the afternoon's pomegranate.  It splashed pink, but dried green.  The thread was in the same tea and stayed pink.  I wonder about the alchemy of this.  

    Ate the last two Christmas cookies from the freezer in lieu of a cake with Blue.  Felt a little sad-mama-sorry for myself and happy that he's on an adventure, just as he should be.  That's him in the photo, one week old on my first Mother's Day.  I remember thinking, "What have I done?"  And being surprised that he was still there every time I caught a glimpse of him.  "There's a baby here." I said over and over.

    Gosh, I miss him.

"The Sparkling Symphony of it All"