handstories

tear drops & trees

   Blue turned 22 yesterday.  We haven't been with him on his birthday since he went off to college four years ago, but this year found me a little sadder than usual about it.  Moon and K. tip-toed around a bit.  K. sent capital lettered texts to Blue saying his mama REALLY needed a photo of his WHOLE face (she did), Moon decided to JUST DO the schoolwork his mama asked him to, rather than argue that she hadn't asked him to (she did).  I cried a little while singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" during the zoom practice with our group last night (fortunately there are sixty of us and our images are too small to notice dripping faces).
   On a cheerier note, last week I cracked about social distancing, texting, screen time, missing time with women, etc.  A good friend heard my meltdown via texting, cursing and silence (this is not the cheery part), and had the brilliant idea of a picnic.  With our own food, wine bottles, blankets, and six feet between our lawn chairs, we spent the evening in the front yard under the Japanese maple tree.  We're hoping the weather holds for a repeat tonight.  It's great to have something to look forward to.

    The pages are going even slower than last week, just like me, but I'm so glad that most of them resemble the things they're meant to represent.  This photograph was a gift from K. years ago.  It still makes me take a deep breath with it's fairytale magic when I look at it, I'm sorry I don't know who took it.

    There are fifty-eight squares of quilting left.  This is a photo of the other side.  I don't remember dyeing this piece of indigo, or how those little flower shapes came to be (beneath the big blob of white), but I like them and used pale blue threads here to keep them as visible as possible.
        And a bobbin of spinning was finished up, and I surprised myself by still being able to spin a balanced yarn (not too much or too little twist in it).  If I stop and think about it, there's lots to be glad about.  I hope you're finding spaces of happy, too.

they're popping up everywhere

    The assignment was to paint stripes in two colors, intersecting planes, values, and light . . . but I had already floated off to some other place(s).

    It started with my hat.

   Colors by Hobbledehoy, spun and knit by me a few years ago.

not that kinda girl

    Lest you all think I'm just a glitter and rainbows kinda sort . . . Moon was adding to his supply list, "What are cap rolls, and do we have any?"  Imagine his surprise, and mine, when I suddenly remembered that, yes, I did, and knew where they were.

    I have no memory of when or where I got them.  Probably I saw them somewhere and had a flash of memory and the fun we had as kids banging the caps with rocks on the sidewalk, trying to hit them just right to make those tiny cracks of explosion.   It ranked right up there with popping the tar bubbles in the street and setting paper on fire with a magnifying glass on hot summer days.

    Moon and I sat on the sidewalk, smashing the caps with rocks, me telling him all of this, and about standing on the edge of the concrete holding tanks Dad sometimes had on the back of the flatbed from work.  We would grab tree branches and swing off Tarzan style, until Mom yelled for us to stop before someone broke an arm.  

    And then there was the "vacation" my family took every May.  We would go to Eastern Oregon for a week of camping with a couple of other families.  Once you were twelve you got to join the group that went out each day to the rancher's land and shoot rifles at the ground squirrels that would pop out of their holes.  (The holes were a hazard for the cattle)  After my first "kill" I cut the tail off of the poor creature, tied a string on it, and wore it for weeks until it rotted off, much to my 5th grade teacher's dismay.

    After hearing my tales, Moon asked me if I ever did anything that wasn't dangerous as a kid?  I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised about his latest interests after all.

    (Yarn spun from a Hobbledehoy batt, the colorway is "Unicorn", in honor of the girl I wasn't!)

fiber sunshine

 

    For a change of pace, in those rare moments when I've had enough blue, some "Golden Raspberry" battlings by Hobbledehoy are being spun.  One bobbin is full, another to go, and then an attempt at bettering my two-plying skills.

    Summer is winding down, the rains are supposed to come today, cross your fingers for the wildfires.

productive delirium

    A "thank you" scarf for our singing leader.  Spun last week.

    Knitting began Sunday evening, finished at midnight last night, Tuesday.

    Inspected by Twinkle.

   My hands hurt, but things are getting done!  Aside from the play and our concert tomorrow, there are piano recitals, a band concert, and I hear there's a holiday coming up . . . 

    How it began, from Hobbledehoy in the "fireflies" colorway.

playing with rainbows

    In the front room window is one of those solar powered twirling crystals.  It spun along with me yesterday, crossing my lap, over and over . . .

    We had a good time together.

colds, inside and out

    More than a thousand yards spun up from this.  

    A sweater begun.  A cozy cushy battle-the-cold-of-this-old-house or standing-at-the-bus-stop sweater.

    The thickness of the yarn knits up fast, just the thing for today, as I'm  also battling the cold in my stuffed up head.

one-fifth-ish

    Singles.

    Two-plying.

    The first bobbins of the BIG spinning project are done.  It's quite cheery and squashy.  The constantly changing colors are keeping it interesting enough.  Trying to stay consistent in the thickness is the challenge.  Instead of whirling the wheel at the usual top speed, I am working against my nature and treadling as slow as possible, only enough to keep the wheel turning.  

    That's happening in other areas as well.

    We're off for a few days . . . wishing you all a cozy weekend!

more than I can chew?

    I've been looking at these rovings.

    Imagining spinning enough yarn for a bigger project.

    I don't know how it's going to look, but I've enjoyed breaking it down into manageable bits.

    One hundred and sixty bites.

    One bite at a time . . .

    Hobbledehoy fiber.

practice, practice, practice...

    Sometimes, it's all you can do.

    It began as "Blue Skies" battlings by Hobbledehoy.