handstories

Rainbows of feelings

    Leftover thoughts from the birthday cloth, I think.  Celebrating sky.  The swirling line is that metallic silver thread, it's not showing up very well here, but it's wonderful in the sunlight.

    Terrariums thoughts.

    Which may have inspired a long overdue dusting of the jar and bird shelf. Starting with the top shelf, washing the bowls, and trying to dust the elaborate gilded-like frame of the painting. 

     That painting...  It’s is family. Painted by a woman who lived up the road from my dad's foster home where he grew up.  It hung above the fireplace of my childhood home.  Writing this, I am suddenly overwhelmed with all it stirs up- sentiment, sorrow, anger, love... 

    A pink moon made from more of Deb’s fabric.

    It feels like a long while since I last made a boat.  It may be time.

Time Traveling

    We've been gone...again.  A road trip down memory lane visiting many of the significant spots from the early years, mostly on the Oregon Coast, in honor of our anniversary.

    The first stop was for the first kiss (April 1980).  Where K. first told me he was falling...

    "Maybe it's because we're on uneven ground?" I said, because I was hoping for that kiss, but struggling to keep my balance on the rocky riverside.

    "I meant in love."  He said.  He kissed me anyway.

    (Note that we did not stop under the old bridge, where I first told K. that I loved him (New Year's Eve 1979).

    "That's great!" he said.  "I'm in love, too!  With L."  I kept loving him anyway.)

    Our first apartment in Corvallis, OR (1983-84).  We had the upper right half.  1920's, two bedrooms, furnished, built in booth table, a sunroom, three-foot deep bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, more cupboards and closets than we could fill... for $210 a month (we talked them down from $225).

    We stopped in Ashland, OR for a couple of nights and plays.  I had spent time there in high school for Thespian conferences, and a couple of visits with a good friend who lived there in the early 80's.  Both shows that we saw were in the outdoor Elizabethan theater.  Perfect weather, with the sky and stage filled with stars, pearls, diamonds, and glitter (it's all about the costumes and scenery for me!).

    The Redwoods.  (Not an Us memory, but we were so close.)

    Bigger than imaginable.

    I wish I could give you a real sense of how far and grandly they reach into the sky.

    The tidepools on Agate Beach in Newport, OR.  A forty-five-minute drive from Corvallis (in 1983-84).  We made the trek often.  Once, a girlfriend and I went late at night and skinny dipped here.  (This is also where my ashes will go.)

    The buildings down there, between the ocean and the lake, are the camp where my siblings and I went for many years.  We loved it there.  I learned to swim in that lake, and, at twelve, was baptized in that bit of the ocean.  Mom thought I should wait and do back home at the church we kids went to (just the kids, our parents had zero interest).  I cried and begged, it had to be in the ocean (where I believed God lived).  She gave in.

    Oceanside, OR.  Where we spent most of our honeymoon (1983).  

    The beach is scattered with jasper and agates.

    We stayed in this family friend's cabin.  It was a lovely relaxing week.  Wandering the beach and K. cooking while I read Ramona the Pest and Winnie the Pooh aloud to him.  When both books were finished, I resorted to the Harlequin romance that I found in the cabin.  I don't remember the title, but the main characters were Brock and Suzanne.  We still laugh at the memory of how "Brock bruised her with his kisses..."

    Rockaway, OR where we were outdoor school counselors together (October 1979).

    The camp beach, where we first held hands (in spite of my being in a relationship with J.)

    And, finally, Haystack Rock on Cannon Beach.  Childhood vacations, one night of our honeymoon, and where we would take our dear nephew for getaways (1988-1995-ish).

    It was a wonderful week with so many memories.  So grateful for all of it.

    There was only a little bit of stitching (the winding coastline roads require looking up!).  It was interesting to notice that what I did stitch had to do with home. 

    It was so good to go and to come home, and to realize how much we are home for each other.

Not drowning but waving

    "The Alchemy of Home"

    In the 90's, warm for here.  Not complaining, but it is the focus these days.  Opening or closing doors/windows/curtains while watching for the moments when the temperatures inside and outside switch, moving fans, searching for food in the fridge that won't require the stove.  It was 109° for Mom down in Oregon the other day.  So, really, not complaining, just managing.

    And I really should avoid people while managing.  For all of our sakes.

    Went to a water aerobics class yesterday.  The shallow end was quite full, so I donned a floatation belt and lurked just where the pool bottom drops off.  I don't know what my face looked like, but clearly not ok.  The teacher kept asking me if I was all right?  An elderly woman crossed a quarter of the pool to encourage me to come closer to where I could touch the floor of the pool.

    I tried to remember to keep a cheery smile on my face, so as not to worry others.  All the while, remembering the line from Stevie Smith's poem...

        "...I was much too far out all my life   

        And not waving but drowning."

 

    "Roasted carrots with oregano and chili powder made for $1.25!"

    I love that Blue sends photos of his new cooking and shopping skills.

 

    "Empanada making party with our Chilean friend last night!"

 

    Making smaller pieces again, thinking of picture books.  Remembering one of my children's lit professers, Dr. O., who said that in the very best books, each page, each illustration, should be able to stand alone as its own story.  That's what I'm aiming for.

    

 

Seas & Season

"From the Deep"

"Twilight Sea"

"Song of Sea & Sky"

    A sea stitching did happen, with thanks to ThreadCrumbs, Deb, and Tina for sharing their dyeing expertise in the moon, threads, and cloth.  It was nice to do a series, exploring a few wave ideas, and peacefully stitch thoughts of the ocean.  They happened after Moon was delivered to college and K went to visit family for a few days.

    Alone for the first time in a month!  It was swell.  I did miss him in the evenings, but the days... I got so much done, including fall cleaning (which is when I get the urge, rather than spring).  The timer was set for 45 minutes of stitching, then 15 for cleaning.  It worked wonders.  The kitchen counter was completely cleared, weeded, and rearranged.   The flour and sugar canisters are now at the other end of the kitchen, shocking but true.  Isn't it funny how things get set up and rarely change?  The bathroom was scrubbed, boxes were emptied, the studio room floor was found under piles, boxes, baskets, and books that were put away.  A carload went to donations, and a few bags of art supplies were taken to the local elementary school.  K says that he should go away more often.  I said, no, just back to work.  (Both of our fingers are crossed that it will be next week.)

"Spell Gathering"

    This piece and I went round and round.  It was ripped apart twice before we came to an understanding.  I wasn't listening.

    Yesterday was the first day cool enough for wool socks.  I love autumn.

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.

Many kinds of stories

"Maybe a Lot of Things"

    I'm liking these longer cloths lately.  Space for more layers of the story, but not overwhelming.

    We went to Oregon for the weekend.  To visit family.  I spent most of the days with my mom.  Her days are so different now, without her husband, or the need to care for him.  There is so much time in a day when life suddenly empties of all you know. 

    We spent some time driving through my hometown (she lives in the city next-door now).  We stopped by to visit her best friend, who still lives next door to the house that I grew up in from age five until 18, when I left home.  The photo above is how it looks now.  It feels too wide open and lifeless to me.  My bedroom was there at the top.  I used to crawl out onto the roof on summer evenings.

    This is how it was... (photo taken as it was being sold when I was 24).  Blue (Mom's choice), the split log fence Mom built to keep us and the neighbor kids from riding our bikes over the corner, and the two big trees on either side of the corner.  A lot happened in that house.  Seeing it makes me want to weep from many kinds of sadness.

    When all of the leaves were picked off, the indigo stems were put into water.  Look at all of the new leaves!  They continue to grow above the stitching table among small stories- the ship in a bottle (it appeared when I was cleaning off my shelves to leave my teaching job), a bluebird from Blue, a clay "piece of mind" made by Moon when I told him I wish I had "peace of mind". 

    In the works, with a moon from Jude.  What goes under the arch, I'm not sure yet? It feels like a place where stories might meet.

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.

Not a vacation

    Had planned to take the week off from shop making. Moon was starting his summer job. After a couple of weeks, I was going to have the house to myself during the days. I was going to work on personal projects- weaving the other side of that quilt, start an indigo vat, work on gifts, catch up on blogs, clear some of the cloth chaos...

    Monday was lovely but felt pretty tired by evening.

    Tuesday morning.  I don’t remember much else about Tuesday or Wednesday.  There is a cloth by Jude hanging over the bed in the studio room.  Every so often I would reach above my head and touch the cloth and stitches, there's blue velvet in it, a comfort.

    There was a dream that Grace called.  Facetimed. Her image became a hologram, 3-D and life size. Reaching out, expecting my hand to pass through her arm, I was able to grab hold, and suddenly she was there!  “We can all be together!” I said, “The whole Circle!”

    A wonderful dream. 

Thursday's Instagram post...

Sickbed post (Day 3):

1. Cozy knees (the only cloth I’ve been near).

2. Sad lonely workspace.

3. Sickbed post (literally, ha ha).

 

Grateful for a bed in my stitching room, best quarantine view in the house (outside, not my messiness inside.)  Husband went down today, Moon is double masked & hiding in his room, holding onto hope. Very glad we are all boosted.  Feeling a smidge better this eve. Might try sitting up tomorrow… maybe lift a needle… 

 

    Friday, I sat up the whole day (in bed).  Stitched a few squares with Tina’s dyed cloths.  K is already feeling better. Just a bad cold for him. His double boosting worked, I think.  Amazingly, Moon is still the last man standing. 

    “Recovery” painted at dusk last night.  Exhausted, but so much better.  Hope everyone is well out there.  Time for a nap, oxo.

More turquoise, & tea

    First fresh indigo experiment using the salt method.  Two leaves, some salt, and a scrap of cotton (it already had some iron or walnut smudges on it) and of silk.  Enjoyed the process and results very much, thanks again, Deb!

    Played with one in my dream that night.  Something I always wanted as a kid (along with Colorforms), but never got.

    While working on the turquoise patchwork from the last post, I thought about hot pink and orange.  The next day a friend handed me this beautiful silk scarf that had accidently been chewed up by her washing machine.

    It was just the right thing.

    The green side of turquoise with shimmering velvet.  Her name is "Opal".

    Someone shared the story of when their husband first said, "I love you."  A very romantic mountain top moonlit moment.  Which triggered my own memories... I said it first to K.  Sixteen, New Year's Eve, got up my gumption and blurted out, "I realize that I love you!" 

    His reply, "That's great!"  (Heart swelled with hope.)  "I realized that I love L.!"  (Deflation of heart.)  "Isn't this great, all of this love going on!"

    No.  No, it was not great, but I put on a cheery face, bided my time (knowing that L. was not interested in him), and got my declaration four months later.  Boys.

 

    Speaking of boys.  Moon has been home a week.  He is so in love with math.  There are pieces of paper like the above scattered throughout the house, representing his attempts at sharing this passion with us.  It may as well be written in ancient Greek.  He doesn't understand that we don't understand, so we nod and smile with awe.

    It's been good to spending time with Moon, having long conversations, hearing what he's thinking about (besides math), and it's been really useful too. 

    K. has been struggling with arthritis in his hip, and the fall last January pushed it all downhill.  Replacement surgery is scheduled (The first available appointment was in November!).  The steep long staircase to the bedroom is too much for now, especially since the only bathroom is on the main floor.  I did offer to move out of my studio room, but thankfully his reply was, "There is so much wrong with that idea."  So, there's been a mattress and box spring in the living room for the last month or so.  Moon helped to move the heavy furniture into a better arrangement.  At least now the bed isn't the first thing you see when you walk in the door.

"Here in the Turquoise Sea"

    Yesterday's turquoises.  The silk waves on top of the boat were the same as the brighter back wave until they were dropped into the morning tea. 

    Stitched while singing an old family favorite from when the boys were young.  Have a listen here, I'll bet you'll be humming too...

    "...They play on the beaches the colour of peaches, there by the turquoise sea, oh, my...under a blue, blue sky..."