handstories

Braiding Connections

    "And Still... the Moon"

    The flying dream was a great one.  It was actually more like swimming in the sky.  Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...

    A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too).  Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo.  Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms. 

    When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music.  "Here you go.  I'll just be stitching in the living room.  Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."

    "Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to...  My sister told me about it, Braiding..."

    "...Sweetgrass?"

    "You know it?"

    "Yes, I've been hearing about it for years.  I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it.  Are you liking it?"

    "Have a seat!"

    "Let me get my tea..."

    He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come...  Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.

    "Robin"

    Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass.  What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift.  I'm halfway through.  It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching.  I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives.  I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connectionsing.

Giveaway...

    As promised...

    Some of you might remember this book from a few years back.  I wrote (and jumped up and down with joy) about it here.  It's a beautiful and inspiring book that celebrates the work of textile artists. Being included was an honor and a turning point in seeing myself as an artist.

 

    With many thanks to Janine Vangool (creator, publisher, editor, and designer of Stitch*illo, Uppercase Magazine, and so much more) for generously sending two copies of Stitch*illo to share with you!  

 

    If you live in the USA (With apologies to those who live outside of the USA.  Posting is just too precarious and costly.) and would like an opportunity to receive a copy of this special book, please leave a comment below sharing a word that sums up some of what stitching means to you.  Mine might be "homecoming."

 

    Next Wednesday, I will randomly choose from the comments here and also on Instagram to send the books to.  Good luck!

Week in Review ***

(*** Friends of ours eat all of their leftovers on the weekends, they call it "Week in Review".)

"Circles Held Her"

    Unexpectedly, the houses are still coming.  I want to learn some photo collage skills, to create a village of these stories of home for myself.

    The evening birds seem much more contented than the morning ones.  More songlike, rather than desperate "Let's get going!" tweets.  Remembering the mornings of hungry little ones and the rush to get everyone everything and out the door on time.

    LOTS of Jude's thread beads happening.

    Sometimes I end up feeling dotty from them.  Deb's thread and cloth must have had the same dye recipe, and Tina's yellow framing cloth is the icing on the cake.

    I've been listening to books from the library while I stitch these days.  Finished a lovely middle reader Caribbean fairy-sea-tale yesterday, A Comb of Wishes, and am now partway into Cloud Cuckoo Land.  What a change in required concentration level!

    A boat stitched while thinking of dearest friend who is out at sea for the next couple of weeks.  She leads a life of adventure with new experiences and people at every turn- a glittering existence.  In my quiet lamp lit corner, I sometimes wonder how we found and held onto each other over the last twenty plus years?

    Walking through Seattle in springtime, it's hard to remember to watch where you're going.  I'm often tripping over the sidewalk cracks or getting dizzy from craning my neck to the sky and tree tops.

    On Earth Day, someone on Instagram posted their visit to Walden's Pond.  I was there 24 years ago last January with K., visiting my sister, and six months pregnant with Blue.  The pond was frozen over.  I stepped out onto the ice so that I could say that I was on Walden's Pond.  K and my sister's guy stood on shore shouting at me to, "Bring the baby back on land!"

"Itzel" Mayan for "rainbow".

    Wishing you all a colorful week of glittery things.

Still a hero forever

    Yesterday texts and emails with the news... Beverly Cleary has died, just a few weeks shy of her 105th birthday.  I burst into tears, went outside to say it out loud to a friend, and cried again.  And now, while writing this, some more- sadness in knowing that she is gone, but mostly for the overwhelming joy she brought into my life, my family's, and millions of others.

    This is from the post that I wrote ten years ago, the day after my birthday...

    "Beverly Cleary, and her "Ramona" character, have long been heroes of mine.  Growing up, I loved those books.  I read Ramona the Pest to my husband on our honeymoon. 

     During a dark time, I read her autobiography,  A Girl From Yamhill.  I was surprised to discover that she didn’t grow up in a warm fuzzy Ramona family, but still went on to write wonderful books that make children so happy.  It gave me hope.  I wrote to her.  She wrote back a lovely thoughtful message with more hope.

     Soon after, working in a first grade class, I shared the letter, love of all things Cleary, and my hope that in spite of my lack of a Ramona family, that maybe I could someday do something that would make children happy.  In unison the circle of children suddenly said, “But you do make children happy!”  Oh!

     Twentyish years later, I met a friend of hers and shared my story.  “I’m going to see her soon,” she said, “Write her again, tell her all of this.”  I did.  That was about a year ago.  Mrs. Cleary is 95 yrs. old, I did not expect a response.  Her friend said that she was pleased with the letter.  That was enough.

     Yesterday I went to the mailbox.  A postcard.  A very happy birthday indeed."

    I hope that she was surrounded by all of the love and joy that she gave to so many others.  Thank you, Beverly Cleary.

September!

    I was BUSY all day yesterday.  Checking things off of the to-do list, adding to it, and checking those things off, too.  There was preparation for a shop update today- photos, listings, retaking photos (because the light is SO bright these days), etc.  Things got DONE.

    Laundry, birthday card into the mail, a dinner made out of the hardly anything that was left in the fridge, and I finished this little piece (about 2 1/2 inches square).  "A Piece of Peace" made from lovely scraps that Tracy sent- the leftover bits from her beautiful robes. (Do go see them and her wonderful thoughtful place over here.). I'm looking forward to seeing her robes, and her again, if and when this pandemic is over.

    The last thing on my list was to make a new book using these tutorials again.  Isn't the cover paper gorgeous?  It was eco-printed by Catherine Alice- the moon came from an avocado slice and hollyhocks made the blues.  She was one of the curators and exhibitors of the "All Stitched Up" show that I was in last fall.  (Was that only a year ago?) and has since become a good friend (with a little matchmaking by Velma, I think, and possibly a bit of stalking by me.)

    The book is a mix of good papers, scraps, old watercolors, magazines pages... anything that called out from the collage box.  The very first book that I made with the tutorial was similar to this and became one of my favorite things over the last months.  (I'll share it in another post.)

    The last stitch in the binding was made at the stroke of midnight.  It seemed important to have a fresh new place for this new season.  I Love Fall.  It's going to be a strange one.  At this moment Moon is upstairs rearranging his bedroom so that we can make space for a desk for his virtual schooling.  In spite of this, in spite of everything, I'm so very glad that this time of year is still working its magic.

journeys

    Business first... These story cloths will be going into the shop tomorrow (Wednesday, August 19th).  

    There has been a lot of staring at these photos, and a wanting and trying to write about how things are at this moment.  Strong feelings of happiness, and sadness, and deep wishing.  The word "clinging" gathered itself and rose to the top.

    I found this when I cleared my shelves in the school basement seven years ago.  Where did it come from?  Floating amongst 23 years of teaching- books, supplies, plans, projects, props, backdrops, etc., and one little boat.  It came home with me, and sits here on the windowsill above the studio table.  It was beyond time to leave that job, some of you might remember.  As awful as that ending was, so many great things came from sailing into the unknown.

    Not long after leaving, this matchbox art was found in a shop.  The message inside might seem sad, but I love it.

    It tells me stories of longing, faraway lands and treasure, and whenever I read the words, "It took me too long to start",  "But, I did." is always tagged on in my mind. 

"Sharing Light"

Strange days

    She wanted blue hair. 

    This is how the inside of my head feels.  At this moment, Moon is off driving alone for the first time.  I may have hugged him a little too hard when he left, telling him, "Don't die."  

    More pink and lavender skies over a twilight blue tree (with thanks to Tina and Deb).

    These scraps want to be a tiny book.  Small is making things seem manageable.
   Well, some things, at least in my imagination. 

    I miss Blue.  He's still in Ohio, and will be moving to Michigan to start his new job in a couple of weeks.   He's happy, doing well, and in a good situation.  We were supposed to have this last summer with him home, but the virus.... The next opportunity will be Christmas time, but it doesn't seem likely that travel will be a good idea by then.  I wasn't ready for months of not seeing him to turn into more than a year.

    The favorite things book creeps along.  This page will be the "Story" blanket.  The book was begun in early April, with the intent of adding something each day for one hundred days.  This is day 125.  There are 41 entries.

    I tell myself that what needs to get done, will.

stars & stuff

    Looking through a pile of starts, I found this, and couldn't remember much about it.

    Old blog posts reminded me that it was going to be a star blanket, with stars stitched daily onto it, started sometime in 2017.  Oh, well.

      A couple of collages, not my usual thing to do, but it was fun to play.

    There was an urge to make a face, something I usually shy away from.

    She's only got one eye so far, I may be afraid to go on.

    Still working on the things I love book.  It's been fifty days, there are 38 things so far.

    How it feels a lot these days.

    Things are quite unfocused.  Today a few small skies came into being, that helped.

noticing stories

    The last squares were quilted yesterday, with stars filling more of those gaps created by my wandering lines of stitching.  I am both glad and sad about that.  Today I started the binding.  I've come up with a different idea of how to do it.  I can see it in my mind.  I hope it works, I hope it wears ok.  We'll see.

    Some starts were made...

    The book goes slower and slower, but still, it's going.

    This page has two things I love- the windows that led to us buying this house, and the blue walls I waited thirty years for.

    The other day I said that I felt story-less.  I know that I'm not, but they're sure hard to grab ahold of these days.  

    But then, I was noticing the few irises that grow under the cherry tree next to the sidewalk.  I remembered how much Grandma loved them and gladiolas, and fuchsias and sweet peas... she just loved all flowers.  Once her birthday was celebrated with cakes baked into flowerpots, each decorated with different frosting flowers, all displayed in a plant stand.

    And irises grew wild on the hill behind the first college I went to.  The hill K. and I climbed after he started to propose to me in the basement of my dorm, next to the pool table.  I could see where he was heading, and said, "You are NOT going to ask me anything important in front of a pool table are you?"

    So we walked up the hill, to a tree, which I made him climb.  Up in its branches, looking down the hill, at the school, town and the Columbia River below, we made our plans.  It was February, long before the irises bloomed, but they were there.

spooning stories

    This is a Twin Star pierced spoon.  Isn't that lovely to say?  Isn't it a beautiful spoon?  As a child I imagined stardust and fairytales pouring off of it.  I have loved this spoon most of my life.

 

 

    It is part of the silverware I grew up using.  The first place settings were slowly collected during a crime spree carried out by my mom and her mother (Grandma got a kick out of the scheme).  During Mom's last years in high school, about once a month, they would go to a local diner for a cup of coffee.  The restaurant served up orders with a mishmash collection of utensils.  If there was a piece of Twin Star at their table (or on one within reach), a single piece would be taken to add to Mom's hope chest. 

    By the time she and Dad got married there were a couple of place settings worth.  The set was filled out over time with Betty Crocker box-top coupon points that Mom collected and mailed in for the missing pieces, including the magical serving spoon.

 

 

    Sometime during my high school years, Mom had saved up more points and ordered a whole new set of silverware.  It was not Twin Star.  I was not happy.  The Twin Star set was moved out to the motorhome to be used for camping trips.  A few years later, when Dad left, he took the motorhome, cast iron skillet (that's another story), and the Twin Star with him.

 

 

    While over at Dad's house a couple of years later, I spied the serving spoon, and began plotting how to get it (I am my mother's daughter).   While I didn't have to resort to thievery, it did require spending time alone with him (in a post-bar state), listening to unwanted advice and comments about me and my life, but I left with the spoon.

    I love this spoon.