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 connection.

Conjuring

    There was an idea for a piece, another one with stones, it seemed like a good one... Not.  I stitched and restitched, ripped out, tried again, and was left with three little stones in the middle that looked more like Easter eggs.  I threw in into the hills of cloth on my table (where it has since disappeared).  And then this piece of Deb's stormy cloth called out, wanting to share a sky with one of Jude's moons...

    It was a moody weekend.  Plenty of feeling sorry for myself, but also knowing that I was fine.  We've got a system for doing the laundry now.  At twenty-four minutes into a load- be there with three buckets for about 20 minutes.  Do not run the first bucket out the door.  Set it on the floor until the third bucket has begun, and then run...  I tell myself how lucky I am to not have to use a washboard or wringer.

    This cloth is about creating connections and spells for yourself.  

    Finding ways to intersect with what's happening and reach for what might.

  Everything leaning on and into each other.  I loved making this piece.

"We Conjure What We Can"

    This piece and others will be in the shop this Friday (March 4th, noon Seattle time). Fifty percent of the sales will be donated to the International Rescue Committee.

    Sky magic last night.

    And more stars today...

Forward...

"The Night's Blue Magic"

    Regarding taxes- I hate feeling stupid, it helped that K (an accounting major) wasn't able to figure out the problem either.  A very patient soul, on the other end of the state taxes helpline, held my hand and walked me through the issue.  Notes were taken, in hopes that next year might be the one without tax tears (a person can dream).

    The ER bill arrived yesterday.  I can't even wrap my head around how those numbers are real?  How is this ok?  Combined with the plumbing work, what an expensive month January was.  Today I am just being grateful that we have resources and am moving on...

    Maybe because of this, I'm working harder at being disciplined with my time and stitching.  Routines work for me, so I'm trying to keep to a schedule. This is mostly easy, because I love it.  Now, if only some headway on the business side of things can be made.  Not so easy, but it will be better in the long run if I can just sit down and make myself figure some things out.  I also need to make myself get up and stretch more!

"Hesper" Tree Token

    A piece of all of this is thinking of stitching as a job, which plays mind games on me, spinning me back and forth between joy and weirdness, and even some guilt (or is it old shame?).  I worry about losing my way in it all, losing the heart of it, about valuing myself, about not being who people might think I am.

    With all of the recent trips to Oregon, time with family, I finally pushed myself to talk about my stitching, to call it "My Work" out loud.  Things about it were brought to share for the first time- pieces, the Stitch-illo book, etc.  It was hard to put myself on display with faces looking back at me.  Good and bad comments undo me.  It's fascinating and feels like drowning at the same time.

    My brother (who uses the words "I'm sorry" to begin most sentences) said, "I'm sorry, but they really feel like watercolors to me."

    "That's a wonderful thing to say, thank you!" His words filled me with joy.

    Onward...

 

"Where Dreams Begin"

    With admiration and thanks for Deb, Tina and Jude for sharing their gifts of and with cloth and thread (among other things!).

Home & Hand Stories

"Spells of, from & for Home"

    The road opened back up.  No locusts, hailstones or boils appeared.  Two days of trying to help.  Hard.  Just hard.  Physically, emotionally hard.  Due to covid there is not enough support for him or my mom.  We need to figure out a better plan for them, this is not sustainable.  None of us knows what to do.  I'll probably return at the end of the week, when the plumbers are done here.

    Sitting here in my studio room (with a jackhammer sound coming from the basement), surrounded by things I love, especially these blue walls.  Sitting here stitching this morning, trying to figure out what this overwhelming feeling is?   A kind of homesickness, I think.

    Last week I noticed that I kept putting on more layers.  For cold or comfort, I'm not sure?  At one point there were seven items of clothing, and that was just from the waist up.  Just now I remembered that this was something I used to do as a kid, when things didn't feel safe.

    Mom's husband is mostly resting, sleeping, unaware, but there are moments of connection.  There were three sweet ones... 

    On the first day, giving him a dropper full of medicine that he didn't want.  I was firm, "This needs to happen.  It will help you."  He opened his mouth.  "Thank you, good job!"  He raised his arms up a little, hands about a foot apart, gesturing.  I didn't understand.  He tried to say something, a few times.  I realized it was an echo of how I had said "good job!"  That he was trying to clap.  I gave him his deserved applause, he smiled.

    Knitting across the room from him.  Again, the hands were up, moving in a pattern.  "Braiding," he said.  We "braided" together for a few minutes.

    Just before it was time for me to leave, he began humming, "Swanee River."  I joined in with the few words I knew, made up some, hummed too, and then started "Red River Valley."  He hummed, managed a "valley" here and there, as he waved an arm in conductor-like movements... flowing.

When we speak of moons

    Friday morning, a cloth of gifts that felt full from the start.  (Thank you Jude, Deb, Deb and Tina.) That hill, from the get go, felt moon-ish to me- color, shape, and connecting with the pink moon above.  I've compared hills to cakes.  So cakes can be moons, too.  Maybe everything can be a moon?  And a cake?  Maybe everything is everything?

    This was my daily painting first thing that morning.   I hadn't connected them until just now. 

    And then, in the afternoon, a dear friend on a road trip, sent this from Utah...

    Everything is connected.  I'm pretty sure of that.

    I had thought that this was done, but after looking at this photo... no.  More balance was needed in the lines around the hill- a wider arch, and a wanting to carry the lightness of the hill color beyond.  Also, that top "circle" filled with golden stars and dots... not right.  (It's so hard and tedious to pick out those dots, especially when they're double stitched, tweezers help.)

    Yes.

    And YES.

    I seem to be disappearing or is it fading?  From here and other places, too.  Jude says that she can't comment here.  Wondering if there are others?  And what to do?

    Keep looking for moons, I guess...

Time & space

    "In the Wonder" holds some special cloths and thoughts.  The speckled square and the moon from Jude, the watery edge of a napkin and threads by Deb, combined with a galaxy of stitching made for a good exploration and expression of how things are right now. 

    It has been wonderful having Blue here.  My heart is full just seeing him across the room.  He's such an easy going guy.  "I don't care," is his usual response (I actually worry about this some).  So I was thrilled when he really liked a new-to-him recipe that I made the other night.  "You can make this again on my last night."  You bet I will!

    The edge of summer is in the air this morning.

    In the process of finishing up "In the Space of Joy" it was flipped the other way, and made so much more sense to me.  I need to keep remembering to look at things from different perspectives.

    An old memory of Mom and my siblings was the first thought on Mother's Day.  A memory that holds happiness and wistfulness.

    Many thanks to Tina for her cloth gifts, her scrap strips are often the perfect frames for the tree tokens. 

        On Mother's Day, there was a last minute decision to drive up to Bellingham for my favorite lunch of African peanut soup and a walk around campus at the college Moon will attend next fall.  (Deb, I waved and called "Hello!")  There are many reasons to be happy that he chose this school- proximity to us, the soup and Deb are a few of mine.  It was fun to watch Moon's excitement as he pointed out different buildings and what will be "My favorite climbing tree."

    Deb's threads create connection in "Moon in Bloom." 

    There are many many things going on in my head and work right now, and I'm not sure how to share about it all.  Mostly, I'm just trusting- in cloth, time and myself.

    P.S.  There will be a shop update with these pieces and others tomorrow morning- Friday, May 14th, 9am PST.

Watching

    The ninth moon cabin block.  The green cloth was bought on the day Moon was born, with pauses to lean on fabric bolts during contractions.  (They had been going on for days, so I wasn't worried, but my friend was!)

     Working with bigger pieces of cloth has a soothing calming effect.  Last night there was a really long seam to fix on one side of a sheet.  I went to bed relaxed.

    I lost my wallet.  Again.  Second time in two years.  I don't know how or where.  Between home, ferry rides and M's house.  I'm almost positive it was in my bag, didn't use it, but it's gone.  Maybe it's here in the house still.  I don't know.  I've cleaned, called, retraced, even looked in gutters and grass where K dropped me off for the ferry.  Just gone.  I loved that wallet.  Glittery.  $10.00 at the Goodwill.  Perfect.  Sigh.

    Pinks and corals have moved into my work lately.  

    There was a conversation this week.  The other person didn't get it.  I didn't get that they didn't get it.  They felt exactly the same way about me.  It was like a deeply scratched record, sliding back and repeating, over and over.  Finally, I just had to let go, skip over the injury, and move forward, and appreciate what music I could hear, but I feel scraped and worn thin.

    This piece helped.  Chaos and rhythm together. "In Cacophony & Love, They Flew On".  It's just how things feel.  All of the stitches had to do with connecting, one piece of cloth to another or a continuing of one into another- birds bodies completed (it's interesting how a few stitches suggest a bird shape to the eye), flight patterns combined with moon rings, polka-dots scattering beyond, Deb's dyed speckles floating further.  Except the stars, those are for me. 

    (Many threads and that bottom strip from Deb with a ThreadCrumbs moon.  It will be in the shop with a few other pieces and a handful of tokens on Friday, 9am.)

    Thankfully, Twinkle keeps watch.

More cake, rope & a boat

    This year's birthday season came to a close last night with German chocolate cake made by Moon and a family visit with virtual Blue.

    A new boat, sailing into, or with, springtime.

    I had forgotten some of the rope story...  It all started with this photo and a text from my brother to my sisters and me last April.  What you need to know:  My dad's name was Pat, both of them were in the volunteer fire department of our hometown, my brother's son (D) is now in one in his town, and that my family likes to tell stories.  Here's my brother's in his somewhat edited words...

    "Ok, good morning, prepare for some rambling, or delete now...  Couldn't sleep so have been cleaning shop since 5am and drinking COFFEE.  Weather has been 68-74 the last 10 days and thank goodness it's raining today- makes this quarantine more bearable?  At least it feels ok to sit in/at home.  Shop's clean, drawers organized, and drill bits all sharpened.

    "I said rambling right?  When I resigned from the fire department in February, after 35 years, I cleaned out my turnout pockets, came home and tossed it all in box."  ("turnouts" are what fire fighters call their uniform pants tucked into boots, partially turned inside out, with suspenders dangling on the sides, all standing ready to be stepped into and pulled on quickly.)

    "This morning in my puttering, I mean cleaning, I found I needed a section of rope to hang my gnomes on.  The ones I kept from Pat's (Dad's), as the original rope had rotted away (see photo).  I recalled my "turnout rope" (see photo).  Now you ask what is a turnout rope? 

    "Always carry a piece of rope in your turnouts, that way you'll have it when you need it," Pat-ism (Dad had A LOT of sayings).  To tie off a ladder, a hose or whatever.  On one call Pat borrowed my rope (guess who didn't have his), tied open a door, and let it get burned up when we were pulled out of the structure.

    So I proceeded to give him crap about my rope... And where was his rope?  We know who lost mine, etc.... 

    One drill night in a classroom, he sat and end braided a new section of rope.  Not quite half the class watched him- fascinated as they had never seen end braiding and they still weren't sure why or what he was doing?  Near the end of class Pat came over to me, in front of everyone, and handed it to me.

    "Your f---ing rope, don't lose it again!"  A good laugh.  It's still with me.

    It seems funny, I carried that simple piece of rope and used it Many times for 33 years.  I'll never need it for turnouts again.... Can't decide whether to hang the gnomes with it or....  D. can't use it as now everyone carries synthetic webbing....whatever.

    See rambling....simple things that somehow make us tick."

    Love this rope more and more.
 

Far & Near

    (Apologies for yet another marathon post.  Someday I'll get back to posting regularly and briefly.)

    Thinking about hills, again.  A lifetime of thoughts and memories of them.  Using Deb's threads to wind a story through... The front hill is from her dye pot, too.  The sky is from a class a long while back.

    This week I've been missing people, groups of people, faces.  I try to smile at people with my eyes, hoping that they know that it's an effort towards connection.

    Continuing on Cameron's block using Susan Fletcher Conway's tutorial here for stars.  They're not easy for me, requiring really good light and focus, but I wanted larger filled-in stars.  They're kind of wonky, but hopefully, with a few steps back, they will shine together.  There will be 26 of them, one for each year of his life.  

    Hands representing his, holding the names of his three young boys.  Grateful for Tina's gift of a rainbow of cloth to choose from for the hearts, and wishing that I had Liz's writing-with-thread skills.

    Another day trip with and to my friend's sweet house.  She's received both of her vaccinations, which added even more ease to our time together.

    The views from the ferry were amazing that morning.  The mountains seemed so big and close.  About fifteen minutes after this photo was taken, we were crossing this bridge.

    I gave her my most recently knitted socks and she put them on straight away.  Happily they fit.

    It was a beautiful day, including a stop at a nursery.  She studied various plants, knowing exactly what she wanted to look at (and the scientific names of everything).  I pointed out the fritillaria, "You had some in your yard when you lived across the street."  She was surprised that I remembered the name.  The word fritillaria is a fun one, making it easy to recall, not to mention that the checkerboard flowers are unforgettable and magical.

    It's a marvel how a four inch container can hold a whole complex beautiful world.  This is just the feeling I want to stitch into my little story squares.

    Sitting in the sunlight stitching moonlight and starlight was delightful.

    It was approaching dusk, so the lights were lit this time.  Still want to come back at night to see them really glow.

Quick catch-up & a deep Thank You

"Moonset"

    The edge of a napkin dyed by Deb made for a fabulous wave (& her purple cloth, too).

    So many nightmares- dead bodies, assaults, old jobs.

    Things are busy, mostly in my head, and computer time is more limited these days.  It seems that by the time K. is finished with it, it's too late for my eyes and brain.

    Working on Cameron's block.  This was hard to make- not my comfort zone in stitching, or the racism behind the symbol.  I sent Blue this photo saying that my making this was proof that the world's gone off kilter.  "Racist and sports?!"  He agreed.  But the Kansas City Chiefs were his favorite team.  There is a video of him having a great time at a game two days before he was killed.

    Moon was impressed that he actually recognized it, "You made these?!  Good job!"   Cameron was also known as a Chevy man.  I'm really looking forward to getting to the star stitching.

    The boys have had some growing pains this week.

    This little house in progress is love- in home, velvet and raw ragged stitching... started after talking to Blue yesterday.  After he said that he wanted to come home.  After I exclaimed, "Yes!  Just get on a plane, we'll figure the virus stuff out, just come home!"  Just wanting to wrap my arms around him.  And then sense kicked in (for him first). 

    While they grapple with big things and emotions, it's hard to remember that they're almost grown, 18 and 22, and there's not much we really can/should do except listen, and remind them that we're here and on their side.  I guess that I've had some growing pains, too.

    A couple of days ago it was this blog's ten year anniversary.  It was started with a wanting to be a part of Jude's Patchwork Beast workshop circle.  It's been a doorway to connection- with the circle, my making, and mostly myself.  Thank you for coming along on the journey.