handstories

Time

    This was begun last month with beautiful blues from Jude.  It was a good place to rest.

    On Tuesday eve, while scrolling through photos on my phone, a photo of my Iowa friend popped up.  It was her senior high school portrait, taken over sixty years ago.  "Why is this here?" I wondered, and then created a new album of "Favorites" to put it in so that I wouldn't lose track of it.  K. and I talked about her for a few minutes. 

    A friend and I had gone to visit her a couple of weeks ago.  Time has been taking her piece by piece over the last few years, but still her delight and joy in spending time with us shined through.  It was a lovely sad visit.  Yesterday I received word that she had died on Tuesday night.  I will miss her dearly.  I loved it when she called me "Honeybun".  The "Iowa" category will tell you more about her, but this post sums our friendship up best.

    Twinkle has taken a turn, new meds, more "waiting and seeing" for a couple of weeks.

    More nightmares... at first I thought that they were frogs, but no.  The spiders were beautiful and terrifying.

    I keep saying (and feeling) that things are really fine, and they are.  I'm just out of words right now. Life slips by sometimes.

    "Everything Became Home"

(Golden pink moon cloth dyed by Tina.)

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.

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.)

What we can do

    Many thank yous for all of your love and kind thoughts on the last post.  You folks fill my spirit.

    I was alone the last few days.  The guys were all scattered to the wind with fun plans, and I was looking forward to really concentrating on stitching for the shop...  and then the last week happened.  Letting things go.  I did spend hours watching really stupid TV and quilting on the woven quilt.  Some really bad stitching in places.  Letting that go, too.

    There will be more definitive news this week, hopefully with a plan, hopefully with some kind of hope.

    Whenever I don't know what to do, I think about feeding them.  Especially her.  On Thanksgiving I spent two hours making stroganoff.  Not the kind of thing I normally do, but no one in the house likes mushrooms as much as I do. It was a good distraction, delicious, and I was so glad to be able to hand her a warm bowlful when she picked me up today.

    "Turn off the car for a minute and eat this."

    We went to batten down the hatches on their sailboat before the rains come.  While we worked, I kept hearing my dad's voice... all the things he used to say when we were out fishing, hunting, etc.  "Pay attention, you might learn something," was a favorite saying of his.

    While driving home, I fed her grapes.

    "Eir" for healing.

From within the Bermuda Triangle of Technology

    It started here, with the wonky photos last week.  There was an attempt to post on Instagram. The photos showed up as black squares.  Worked around that.  Dishwasher died.  After it leaked over the kitchen floor.  Working around that with handwashing, which I mostly don't mind.  (K. does the silverware.  I hate the silverware.)  On Monday there were more Instagram issues (for many of us).  And Typepad, this blog's platform, went completely down.  For days.  It seems to be back-ish, photos and spacing still wonky and with photos that come and go.  It feels like everything might be fading away...

    But yesterday... Yesterday, I took a bus and a ferry to join two dear souls for a day- Velma and Catherine.

    Lunch, dinner, hanging out, and time at Bloedel Reserve.  A place that I love.  With folks that I adore.

    We walked and talked among the trees, moss and ferns.  The two of them know so much.

    Such a good day.

    If not for technology, chances are I wouldn't know either of them.

    Today our internet was out for much of the day.  It appears to be working. For the moment.

“Hope in the Darkness”

Slowly

    Covid or not, Deb's indigo plants were ready to be harvested.  The alchemy of squishing leaves, salt and cloth into blue was pure magic.

    I am going so slowly these days.  Is malaise the right word?  Melancholy?  A lack of oomph, or even desire, to move and or do anything.  There are windows of energy spurts and I try to take advantage of them.  The bathroom did get cleaned.  Some stitching is happening.

    There is good news about K's surgery.  There was a cancellation, and he was at the top of the waitlist, so now it will happen at the end of August instead of November.  Counting the days until he will be out of pain.

    Houses, jars and bottles are showing up.  Even when the initial intent was something else.

    Two friends and I went on a day trip yesterday to visit our friend and former boss (my Iowa friend).  She is 86 now and starting to slip away in many ways.  She was younger than me when we met, it seems a lifetime ago.  While talking with her lovely caregiver, I realized that she only knows who she is now, not the strong, opinionated, sharp as a box of tacks, force of a woman that we have known over the decades.  She's still full of light and spirit.  Seeing her is wonderful and sad.

    There are so many things that I wish I could hold on to.

Dream Days

"Sip of Dreams"

    Many swell happenings over the last few days...  Friday- to Bellingham for Moon's a cappella concert.  It was great to hear him sing, watch him have a great time, be so happy.  And then the treat of meeting up with Deb for dinner.

    After that, a night in Vancouver, B.C. in a room with a city view (across the street from the Coliseum-ish library), strolling Granville Island (Maiwa's!), a delicious Italian dinner...  It's been so long since we've gone somewhere, just the two of us.  It was a very nice time.

    On the way home, there was an extra dose of Deb time!  Tea in her cozy sweet house with two of the friendliest cats you'll ever meet (Widget wasn't interested in socializing).  

    Her GOOD Enough quilt is even more wonderful in person (as is she!).

    Today I potted up her gift of indigo plants, with hopes for their survival under my blue thumb.

    Sunday night I dreamt in cloth.  The memory became the morning painting.  By afternoon, the image was fading, but not the incredible feeling.  A cloth began...
 
    I didn't refer back to the painting at all and was surprised this afternoon to see the differences.  The tree had completely slipped away.  Dream to paper, paper to cloth, maybe I'll complete the circle and keep going, back and forth, forward and back, in and out of the dream.

No rhythm, but still...

    Flow and time are sporadic and come in patches.  I feel like a crazy quilt.

    But there was a trip to M's house across the water.  Leaving the city and all of the things behind for a day.

    Soon it felt like another world.

    (Except for one moment...  There are signs everywhere stating that masks are required inside the ferry, you may be outside on deck or in your car without one.  Also, multiple announcements are made stating this, and that masks are available if needed.  The man sitting across from me did not have one on.  We moved to another part of the boat.  A while later the man was walking throughout the ferry, still without a mask.  We watched him pass one of the pursers, who was walking towards us. 

    Yes, I am a rule follower.  Yes, I think everyone else should be too.  Yes, I am a bit high strung these days, with things feeling somewhat out of control.  Yes, I may have been desperate to control something, anything.  Yes, I called out to the man, "You need a mask!"  Yes, I was ignored.  Yes, I called out to the purser who was sauntering by, doing nothing about the unmasked violator, "That man needs a mask!"  His eyes smiled, seemingly thinking I was just admiring his epaulettes.  I waved him over, "Excuse me!  That man isn't wearing a mask."  He then patronizingly began to explain to me that there was nothing he could do, other than offering a mask and a reminder of the requirement.  "Well, did you?"  I was met with a questioning confused look.  "Did you offer him a mask and a reminder of the rule?"  Silence.  "Do you have a mask to offer him?"  (I probably should add exclamation points to my last three statements to convey the tone I was using.)

    "Uh, yes, I can go find one..." and he quickly scurried away.

    "Sorry if that was too much," I said to M.

    "Nope.  It was just you being you.  Let's go down to the car."

    The rest of the day was wonderful.

    She gardened.  My height and long arms came in handy for dead heading the sunflowers threatening with their weight to break the stalk before the rest could finish blooming.

    Inspired by beautiful gifts (Deb, Jude, Tina), I stitched for the first time in days.

    It felt so good to notice beauty everywhere.

    We wandered through a flea market.  So many pretties and memories.  We found sets of our childhood dishes sitting right beside each other in one display.  A very good day.

    Autumn has arrived.  Bright glowing days and crisp air.  There are things to look forward to soon.

"Imagining Beyond"

Sailing, cinnamon rolls & moon dreaming

"She Journeyed On"

    When I found this tiny ship in a bottle on my basement shelves in the school I was leaving after 23 years... I didn't think twice about keeping it.  Whoever it belonged to before, clearly the universe meant it for me.  It was time to set sail... 

    I wonder if I'll ever stitch such a grand ship (or be able to?)

    How many candles can you fit on a cinnamon roll?

    Nineteen.

    For Moon.  

    We were glad for the decision to only put the candles on one roll!

    I'm the only one in the house who still asks for a cake.

    The tiniest of scraps can make a world.

    There was a fall on the front porch two days ago- stepping down the front porch stairs with arms full of damp laundry to put out on the drying racks, turning around to reclose the door that hadn't quite latched, tripping over the now trailing bedsheet in shoes that were too loosely tied...

    Falling so slowly that there was time to wonder if I could catch myself, or would I go off the edge of the porch taking the window boxes with me, or maybe (as the stumble picked up speed and turned into a tumble) go through the screen door, and most importantly a quick prayer to the sky that no one was coming up or down the sidewalk and that none of the neighbors were looking out of their windows. 

    All the while fumbling to get my hands untangled from the laundry to stop the plummeting off of the porch.  One hand got free in time to grab the screen and push it into the watering can, jar, etc. that later needed retrieved out of the ferns below.  I landed in a full out sprawl-splat, knocking the flower boxes a few inches over the edge, but not off.  Banged and bruised, but grateful that there was only the cat as a witness.  Still quite sore, but the bruises are getting pretty.  Just don't bounce like I used to.

    Friends are sailing out on the ocean, with experienced friends to help them on their first sea trip.  Hoping they're gaining confidence, and that I'll be able to have a turn soon....  They left Portland on Friday and will reach Point Roberts (the tiny tip of the U.S. that's attached to Canada) by Tuesday.  With the help of a find-my-friend feature on the phone, I'm able to see about where they are, and was excited and envious while watching them cross the bar from the Columbia River onto the Pacific.  It's such a beautiful powerful spot where the river meets the sea.

    Dreaming of a moonlit sail...

"Moon Dreams in Blue"

Silver the moon

    This base was stitched a while ago and rediscovered in the mediocre clean-up of Wednesday.  One of Deb's threads seemed to match the steel-like feeling.  I loved making those +++ marks, watching the threads change in the indigo and walnut dyed cloth.

    The last days have been busy and full.  Mostly good things- drying clothes out in the sunshine (including the cotton sheets that I can't wait to sleep in tonight), making a delicious dinner out of leftovers (or what a friend calls, "Week in Review," and a day trip to my friend's house across the water.

    There were riots of colors in her yard.  It was the hottest day yet this year, near 80.  My legs saw the sun for the first time.  I hope that no one was blinded by them.  She gardened.  I helped a tiny bit, but mostly moved in and out of the shade while stitching and writing.

    I wrote memories of Myrtle.  A girl I knew in third and fourth grades.  She been on my mind all week.  There's still a bit more of her story to write down.

    Mt. Rainier during the ferry ride home.

    Today I feel like I have a sun-hangover.

    I love having the windows open again- fresh air, the clear sounds of birds and the smell of flowers.

    On Friday K. came home with raspberries and blueberries.  For the first time in a very long time, I had the feeling that everything is really going to be ok... relief.