handstories

The Coast

    Stitched last week on the Oregon Coast with my mom and sister (who I usually join on the east coast).

    We had perfect weather, wonderful views, lots of walks, memories, laughs, and food.

    The house was on the beach, a dream place for all three of us.

    It was the first time in decades that it was just the three of us for any length of time.  Fascinating to observe and be a part of new dynamics.

    It seems that the neighborhood heard that I was coming.

    There was a night that boats scattered near the shore (and an egret, I think).  We made up all kinds of stories of what they might be up to before deciding they were fishing boats.  (The stories were much more interesting.)

    One day we drove up to the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  Growing up, the family would stop there now and then.  We enjoyed watching the cheese makers pulling giant wires through the cheese, seeing the curds and whey, all through a large window over their work area.  Afterwards, there would be sample cheese squares on toothpicks.

    Now it is a huge building with large windows, displays, etc. looking down through rows of windows onto modern machines that hide much of the process.  There were sealed samples to take, a LARGE eating area featuring cheese sandwiches and many kinds of ice cream, with a huge gift shop nearby, and a cheese truck to pose for a photo op in.  A kind of a cheese Disneyland.  It was interesting and a fun stop, but the quaintness and charm were missing.

    I did love seeing that one of their symbols is the silhouette of the Morning Star.

    "1854-  Tillamook's farmers had butter and milk to sell- but hauling it over rough mountain roads took so long, that it would spoil.  The fastest route to Portland is by water, so they built Oregon's first official ship- the Morning Star- to carry their dairy goods to market."

    Home now to a short heat wave, but there's hopefully a storm brewing tonight.

    But I keep thinking of the ocean.

    And thinking about all of the different kinds of light.

Blue

    (Well, that was an unexpected break from the internet.  More about that another day.)

    Today has been spent with the piece above.  It's about Blue, who was home for much of the last week.  All of the cloths in this piece are also in blankets that I've made for him over the years, starting with the rose print flannel that his first baby blanket was made from, his "Rosie."

    And looking at this cloth made ten years ago... It's full of mama feelings for him, too.  When I was wanting to hold him wrapped in flannel within the safe bubble of home.  I wrote about it here.

    There was a thought of putting a home on the hill in the new cloth, too, but I realized that would be about me.  His world is much more than that.

    This morning he landed in Santiago, Chile where he and a friend are hoping to live for the next year.  The plan is to be English tutors and whatever other jobs they can find to make ends meet.

    He sent the view from his apartment a bit ago.

    I am holding all of the feelings... so happy and excited for him, proud of his risk taking, and a little sad to know he's so far away.  I wish a big blue wide world for him, knowing that we are still under the same moon together.

Ok for now

    Some things have been started...

...and put aside.  No painting.  No writing.

    Tired on the inside, not sleeping well, nightmares, so tired on the outside too.  Too much thinking, not enough doing.

    Taxes were looming.  Every year feels like reinventing the wheel.  Last time I took notes, but the form has changed, and I was lost as usual.  The helpline person held my virtual hand and did an ok job of not sounding exasperated with me.  Perhaps because she could hear my anxiety and tears brinking.  At least that's done and dusted.  I did take screen shots and notes to refer to next time.  Fingers crossed that nothing changes. 

    "Where the Light Might Go"

    Some things got finished. 

    Including a pair of socks for my sister-in-law.  She's a narrow size six, they go fast.  A purple pair are on the needles now.

    They were delivered during a weekend in Oregon visiting family.  One afternoon, Mom and I went for a drive around the area.  My aunt wasn't home, but a bit of her passion was visible in the front window.  I love how she loves him...

    We also went looking for the house we lived in when I was three to five years old.  I've tried finding it on my own over the years but couldn't.  When we lived there, it was countryside- gravel road, ditches, woods, blackberry bushes, and only a few homes.  Now the fields are filled with houses, shops, office buildings. Nothing looks familiar. 

    It was getting late, almost dusk, and then the road began the curving up around the hill.  There was a body memory of riding in the car on the way home... There was my best friend's house, and her big yard where we ran after her Dachshund.  Around the corner, some of the woods were still standing, and after one more turn, there was the house and its memories.

    The rock wall that Dad built was still there. My brother and I had watched him lift and maneuver the big stones, and "helped" him mix the cement in the wheelbarrow.  I remember thinking how strong he was.   Mom's garden was gone.  Flashbacks of mud pies, learning to ride a bike, "Gumby" on Saturday mornings, Midnight the cat, Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars, and eating the cake that I had won playing musical chairs at the kindergarten carnival.

    I got out of the car to get a better look.  The rain and night beginning to fall.  Standing there, getting wet, staring at that house, recalling other memories, that won't be erased by time or therapy, it was the topper to a week that had felt like a synchronicity of gloom. 

    Yesterday I wallowed in it all.  Today I thought, "That's enough for now," and stitched a red tree named "Carmine," shaking loose the downheartedness for now.  An attempt at "rising above" as a friend suggested.

    Time to start swimming again.

Never a Dull Moment

    Deb's cloth made for an earthy hill on blackberry-ish purples by Tina, with a small scrap of the starry cloth K. gifted me for Christmas twenty-five years ago in anticipation of baby Blue.

    There was a bit more boat mending in the wind and the cold under a daylight moon.

    In an effort to maybe, just maybe, get this quilt done in time, I keep it on my lap while stitching for the shop.  Whenever there is a bit of thread left in the needle, it goes into the quilt.  Sometimes it's only a few stitches, but that keeps things interesting.

    Speaking of interesting... There was an evening at my friend's condo this weekend.  They live near a hospital and a couple of nursing homes, so sirens are common.  But suddenly there was siren after siren...

    We looked out the window to see that the street was full the length of two blocks and around the corner of her building.

    Across the street an old, abandoned house.

    We spent the next hours watching out their windows.  The hours were also spent with fond and fearful memories of my dad's decades as a fire fighter. 

    The house is still standing, without some of the roof and floors.

    "It's never a dull moment around here!" I commented.  We laughed at the crazy their world seems to be full of these days.  Over there again last night, we talked about how pretty the fire actually was, especially at one point when snow was falling.  We thought it could be their Christmas card... "Our world is on fire, and still beautiful... Merry Christmas!"  We laughed some more.  Laughter is such good medicine.

    And so is stitching! (More of Deb and Tina's dyeworks.)

Lights in the Dark

    "There Was Humming"

    This one was all about playing... Enjoying circles and the tiniest stitches.  Looking for balance and rainbows.

 

    "The Stars Hold Our Stories"

    This was finished on the way home from spending time with family in Oregon.  It was a different group than usual.  Noticing how the mix in personalities brought new dynamics.  How the same old stories took on new perspectives.  More layers.  

    Mom, who has had such a long, lonely year since her husband died last January had moments of silliness.  Which was wonderful to watch.  And we all enjoyed listening to her laugh as she told the story of how she and Dad met and got together.  How Grandma thought he was a nice guy because he was happy to eat leftovers.  I love how in spite of the turns their marriage took, she has fond happy memories of her time with him.  

    The change in light seems to be reflected in my color choices- things have taken a turn for the dark.  But I'm still trying to stitch light and hope into it.  These story cloths will be in the shop at noon today (Pacific Time).

    Just in case you missed my last post, there is one more day to leave a comment for a chance to win!

Joy

    We strolled through the local botanical gardens for our anniversary afternoon. 

   A place we've gone often.  A place with memories of good and rocky times, alone and with the boys.  K likes the dahlias, for me it's the water features and wispy meadow like spots.  An old timer made a cheesy jokey compliment to me.  Something my dad would have done.  It made me roll my eyes and smile.

    "Asra" meaning "nighttime journey".

    Speaking of journeys... I'm off for the next bunch of days to attend/assist another workshop with Christine Mauersberger.  I'm looking forward to days of making and soaking in inspiration, to sitting still, spending time thinking and wondering, gathering some thoughts and sense of where I am and might want to go.  It's a tall order for a few days, but a soul can dream.

Seeing the waves...

    More seas...  I'm resting in them, I think.  A way of keeping going, no matter the to-do list, anxieties.  Things are fine, just still more of a tossed salad rather than a smooth soup.  K started back half-time today, that will help both of us.  Stir crazy does not look good on him.  Nor does my constant, "Are you leaving the house sometime soon?"  We both need routine.

    It's our 39th anniversary today.  We're both glad about that.

    There were four years of off and on before we got married.  There was a time during my senior year of high school when he would come home from college every other weekend.  During which he would break up or get back together with me, depending on what he had done the last time.  Over and over.  Two girlfriends wrote to him, asking him to end it for good, because being around me during the aftermath of these visits was making them crazy.

    We all made it through that year, and then I went to Alaska for the summer, and new drama began...  but that's another story.

    Sorry about all of the loose threads on this photo.  Didn't have my glasses on.  

So many feelings

 

"Moon Memories"

    Sunday's smokey sunset.  Glad the air is clear again.

    K. is getting about unaided, feeling pretty good, off all the meds except Tylenol, sleep is improving, and can put on his own cursed compression socks!

    Detail of "So Many Things," a piece that was started almost two years ago.  I've thrown myself back into stitching this week.  It feels good to be stitching for hours again.

    Moon is packing up for his sophomore year of college.  A tutoring job in the math department is waiting for him.  As is an apartment with friends. The plan is to stay until their degrees are done, including summers.  He says he's probably never going to live here again, and so he's putting his life into boxes that will move to the basement or go with him.

    I'm having a whole variety of mom feelings, all over the spectrum.  The last few days have been challenging.  Two more to go.  Neither of us is great with change.  I've seen growth on both of our parts.  I really am trying to trust that it's all good, or at least good enough.  If nothing else, the room will get a long overdue cleaning.

    The "Samar" tree token, the name means 'evening conversations'.

    Detail of "Magic Sky".

    I'm craving the ocean again.  Time to stitch some sea.

Something is more than Nothing

    "Coraline" on a hill made from a gift of beautiful silk.  A friend shared some scraps (from Nepal, I think?) a few years ago, and I was "saving" them, actually afraid of messing them up.  Trying to get myself to just move, do something in a few areas of life.  Every step is movement.

    Through got a little longer this week, as K's surgery has moved from Monday to Thursday.  It's also at a later time in the day than expected, so he will probably be spending the night.

    I tried new recipes a zucchini pasta, rice bowls, and Steph's Tofu.  If you like tofu, do try it.  It's a creation of our local co-op.  Something I've bought there often.  The first round was good, but not quite right.  I went and bought a little from their deli to compare.  The second time I chose a dryer tofu and cooked it longer and it was great.  The recipe calls for an hour of cooking.  Our old oven took an extra half hour.  You want it brown.

    A trunk full of donations were gathered and sent off with Moon to drop off.

    One compost bin of blackberries was cut down out back.  Something K has always done, and I didn't fully appreciate until now.

    Vacuuming happened UNDER the couch, along with some other weird usually neglected cleaning.

    I am trying to have some constructive anxiety to balance out the mindless tv and tree watching.

Crux

    Walnut ink painted onto cloths dyed with fresh indigo and in that turquoise wash.

 

 

    A moment from yesterday. Rainbow in my blue room (on a wall that could use repainting, just like the rest of the house), Story quilt, and the bedpost of the childhood bed. I should say childhoods...Moon’s, Blue’s, nephews, brother’s, mine, and Dad‘s in the foster home that he grew up in. 

    I’ve been thinking about the soul this week, what it is, how to stay in the space of it.  I was told that it’s a place of who we are, all we are, all we might be.  That all the things that we think and believe about ourselves are just thoughts, reactions, responses, and often judgements. So, I’m spending moments trying to step outside of thinking, and observe the What and Why.

    During the first attempt, I remembered watching Dad at his mom's wake as he struggled to grasp timelines and his past.  Suddenly, I could see the small boy of who he had been, who didn't know what had happened to his world or where his parents had gone.  It was the first true understanding of the why he was the way he was, and the beginning of feeling some compassion and forgiveness for him.

 

 

    I’m also trying to understand walnut ink.  It was dried, ironed, wetted, and then smooshed with a couple of indigo leaves and salt.

 

    What a beautiful green it was.

 

    After drying and rinsing, the rings were barely visible.

 

    And begin again.  I don't know anything about this ink.  It is from a workshop a few years ago.  Maybe I need to make my own?  Either I will figure this out or just keep the ink away from water.

    A Table Story...  Years ago, at a craft fair, M., a friend, bought the bear necklace.  I loved it too, but there was only one.  Recently, M. gave it to me.  She lives on my worktable.  Her occasional adventures are photographed and texted to M.  Yesterday she and the "Story" doll (made by Cathy Cullis years ago) celebrated the finishing of this piece under a sunny scrap of Deb's cloth with party favors of a jay feather and a piece of a tumbleweed from a road trip with M.

    It's funny how elements of stories that have been looked at over and over can suddenly take on new meanings.  That memory of Dad, after all of these years, seems to have opened a door to some understanding and compassion for me too.

"Soul Work"

    I'm keeping this one.