handstories

a marmalade of memories

    FYI- I had turned off the comments on my last post, was feeling overwhelmed by technology and feelings.  I just wanted to say how my heart was full, of sadness about Michelle and gladness for this community.

    I made marmalade, because the peaches all ripened at once.  Peach and orange.  It's been more than a decade.  A recipe from an old friend, created in 1991.  I wonder where she is now?

    Pieces are finally being finished.  There's a small stack here waiting to go into the shop, once I figure out how to do all of my self-imposed crazy systems without my computer.  It's more than I want to think about.

    Once Janie and I made this marmalade together.  1993?  A hot August day in her light and airy kitchen.  We had fun.  I miss her.

    More small trees.  They're meeting some need inside of me.  Not quite sure what that is?  Maybe it's about being doable, and that small can hold enough.  At least enough for a moment.

    After a couple of weeks, my computer turned on without the yelling moaning beeping sound.  It's not out of the woods yet, it only types a weird symbolic language that gets me nowhere, but the photos and files appear to still be on it.  So, ok.

    Yesterday I finally called the support place.  It's always a mission to get through to a real person... (FYI- one way to get off hold quickly is to put bread in the toaster and make a run for the bathroom.)  A nice guy.  He listened to the details, asked if it was a glass of water, or was it really wine?  "Nope.  Water.  Wine came after the spill."

    He was encouraging about my files and scheduled an in-store appointment for next week.  At the end, he clapped for my sense of humor, said I was a delight to talk to (not something I hear often), and admired my c'est la vie attitude about the news that it's most likely the end of the line for my computer.  "Of course it is, it's 2020."

    

  As "delightful" as it all was, the call exhausted me.  Afterwards, the toast was re-toasted, tea was made, old photos of the boys were misted over, and then time was spent listening and re-listening to the phone message I saved from my dad four years ago.  It was just after his wife died, two years before he did.

    "Hi honey, just me.  Sorry I missed your call.  I was out loading the rig.  S. and I are going up elk hunting here for a week, and taking off in the morning.  I'm just Designated Driver.  He's doing the hunting.  I can't get around at all anymore.  Anyway, other than that it's... it's going one day at a time.  It gets a little better with time.  That's all I can say, honey.  Love ya.  Talk at ya later.  Bye."

    It's not the bright peachy orange I remember.  Cooked too fast and too long, I think.  Still, it tastes good.

orange you glad...

    Jude shared some sunshine recently... Janie taught me to love orange.  She would point out flowers, pumpkins and the Sun.  She loved the Sun.  It was never too hot for her.  (Those that have been here a while have heard stories of my long gone friend, for you new folks who would like some backstory, there's a "Janie" category to click on at the bottom of the post.)  

    She loved all colors with a passion...she loved most things with a passion.  Everything was "the Most Beautiful" thing she'd ever seen.  I used to laugh and roll my eyes at her.  "Everything can't be the most." I'd say, ever the Eeyore to her enthusiasm.

    "But it IS!"

    She really lived in the moment.

    (Stitching lavender, the first of three border lines.)   

    She bought this dress- a long flowing peachy orange thing with lavender trims, it was the 90's.  It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen...  She was wearing it as we sat in her sewing room.  "It looks like a sunset..." she said.

    Soon after she painted her sewing room walls that same peachy orange, with lavender baseboards and ceiling trim.  

    It was the most beautiful room...

wavering

    December can be so full of memories, making for very quiet days.

    Nothing really interesting to share, just rows and rows, round and round, wiggling and unsteady lines of stitching on Blue's Christmas blanket.  Both boys' are quilted now and waiting for bindings.  

    I need to find that great old book of Janie's that will remind me how to make the bias strips easily.  Something about cutting a square on the diagonal and stitching it into a off-set tube...  It's here somewhere...

    Neither of us could ever remember how to do it from quilt to quilt without the book.  It involves getting the sewing machine out, which always seems like such a chore.  Janie didn't own a machine, so I would sew her tubes, too.  With how prolific she was at quilting, you'd think I'd remember how to do it.

    Making these long lines creates room for lots of wandering through time.  

another wander through the past

    I'm a bit out of sorts, again.  Blue comes home tomorrow for the summer.  Twenty years old, finishing his sophomore year of college today, and next week he will start what looks to be a great summer internship/job at the Port of Seattle.  While he's away I can imagine things are somewhat the same, but each time he returns it's clear that more and more he has his own life now.  How it's supposed to be, I know, but still...

    Indulging the melancholy, baby photos and his baby quilt were pulled out this morning.  

    This blanket was started in spring of 1997, and it was finished just before Blue began at the end of the summer.  There had been a late miscarriage earlier in the year, and the following months were were full of longing.  

   It's hard to make out, but the quilting represents a spider web/dream catcher.  The windows are filled with images of wishes- a blue bird, twilight forest, sailing boat...  Also there are symbols that reminded me of the strong women in my life- berries for Grandma's jam, favorite flowers of  friends...

    This cloth was from Janie.  It holds her, and a memory with my mom.  

    It was summertime, Mom was 28 and I was nine.  We were sitting underneath a big willow tree with my siblings (7, 4 and one).  She was looking up at the bent branches that reached nearly to the ground and surrounded us, telling us about a willow that she had loved when she was a child.  She was so peaceful and happy while remembering that tree.

    The back is made of sea and sky. 

    The whole thing was bound in starlight.  The starry cloth was a Christmas gift from K., who never doubted that Blue would come.  I named the quilt "Waiting, Wishing & Wanting".  It holds a lot.

glittering moons

    I love glitter.  This surprises folks.  (I suppose it might be due to the jeans, gray t-shirt, pony-tail and tennis shoes I wear most days.)  The sparkle of it just delights me... teeny-tiny glints of light.

    Yesterday I was quite giddy over some glitter paint the teacher had given the students.  She commented, "It's so weird how much you like it!"  One of the teachers I worked with last year wandered in as I was going on about it, and recounted the time when I had brought some in to add to the kids' posters.  (Funny, she didn't tell the story with fondness, but rather with exasperation...) 

    Back in the 90's, Janie and I shared a classroom and a love of all things glittery (among many other things).  We each had a container of body glitter for our shoulders, temples, etc.  "Everything's better with glitter!" we would say.  The teacher of the classroom across the way from us felt quite the opposite.  On days that we had the sparkly stuff in action she would come no further than the doorway to talk to us, so as not to track it back into her classroom.

    So, here I am trying to give the illusion of glitter with tiny colorful stitches to these moons.  You need to get really close to see them, but they're there, making me happy!

friends...feathered & otherwise

    This piece tugs at something in me.  During this unusually busy weekend I found myself clinging to the minutes that could be spent stitching on it.

    It was Seattle's first annual Bird Week, and the Audubon Society led bird walks all over the city yesterday.  The rain kept most people away, but a few of us tromped around the park looking, listening and learning all kinds of bird things.  Pine Siskin, Red Breasted Nuthatch, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Anna's Hummingbirds, Varied Thrush, American Robin, Dark-eyed Juncos, Crows, and a Mallard Duck family were all seen.  I spotted two Bushtits, (I didn't know they were Bushtits, but was told it was a very good sighting).  

    The mama Mallard had eleven babies she was trying to protect from the Blue Herons and Seagulls in the area.  Meeting a friend for a walk in the same park today, we were happy to see that all eleven had made it to another day.  

    There was lunch with Janie's daughter today, too.  She brought her wedding photos from last summer.  What a fairy tale day it looks to have been...out in the country, a field of poppies, handmade buntings and jars of wildflowers...so much joy.   She glowed and laughed sharing it all.  It was just like the celebrations her mom used to gather folks together for.  I'm sure Janie's spirit was floating through it all.

    Two dinners dates with other friends filled out the rest of the weekend.  It was all very good, but I am peopled out.  Tomorrow is a day off, and I plan to fill it with stitching, stillness and silence.

 

post trial soothing

    A delightful time was had by needle and me in the adding of some of Deb's cloth and thread to yesterday's piecing.  It cheered me right up, that along with remembering what happened after the jury story from yesterday...

    At the end of the third day of deliberations, I begged the bailiff for an extra half an hour, so we could vote one more time... and then, it was finally over.  (Other than one stressful moment, when the prosecuting attorney tracked me down a few days later by phone.  The defense had filed an appeal based on the fact that they suspected that I had been in the neighborhood of the crime scene during the course of the trial.  Thankfully, the judge threw it out saying, "We all got that feeling when she said she lived there."  Honestly.)

    Anyhow, it was done, and just in time to leave the next morning as planned with Janie and little L..  We were off on a road trip to Oregon to see the annual quilt show in Sisters.

    We drove to central Oregon, picking up Janie's sweet mom along the way.  The show was outdoors, hundreds of beautiful quilts hanging on buildings and railings all over the town.  We had such a good time- at the show and in all of those hours in the car.  Just three women and girl, singing, telling stories and enjoying the views... 

    "Look at the trees!" Janie exclaimed, over and over.  "Did you know there were so many shades of green?!  It soothes my eyes and soul!"   

grateful for now

    The first half of today was spent stitching and looking forward to a very special date this afternoon.

    About a month ago, I tried to sign K. and I up for a cooking class at the co-op (his Christmas gift), but the website wasn't working, so I called their office.  A woman answered, "This is L., can I help you?"  It was the daughter of Janie!  (A dear friend who died almost twenty years ago.  Click on the "Janie" category at the bottom of this post for more of her story.)  

    We talked for a long while and made plans to get together.

    It's been years since we last saw each other.  She's beautiful and lovely, graduated from college, traveled the world, and was married last summer.  We talked about who we are now, filling each other in on people each of us still know, and remembering stories of us, and of Janie.

    I wanted to share more about her mom with her, but found myself floundering and too overwhelmed for words, mostly only able to express feelings about how creative, wicked smart and passionate she was.  Things were never gray for her.  All of it mixed with some colorful crazy (which was part of her brilliance).  

    There was a lot of laughter and some tears.  We promised to keep in touch, and made plans for March.  I found myself staring at the glimpses of Janie in her, but really she is her own unique person- a wonderful confident thoughtful young woman.

    Janie would be so proud and in love with who her little girl has grown into, and I'm so happy to be getting to know her again.

how the body remembers

    I love this bird cloth.  There are bits of it here and there in the piles.  Bought a long time ago, back when I used to frequent fabric shops.  

    Janie, a long-gone friend, and I would roam the aisles together, with her toddler daughter in tow, who would reach for the bright cloths, saying "Dandelion!"  and "Apple!"  Her first words for the colors yellow and red.  

    Memories of Janie have been flowing the last couple of days.  This morning I remembered why, it's her daughter's birthday this week.  

    During this week the three of us would go blueberry picking, later there would be pie for little L.'s celebration.  One year it was unusually hot (just like it is now), and we decided to make orange-peach marmalade, too.  Arriving at their house with canning pot, jars, etc..., her husband thought we were crazy.  I laughed, "I think it's important that we do this on the hottest day of the year, to remember it!"  

    L. is in her late twenties now, the age I was when I met her, and then Janie.  Here they are stitching together, Janie is working on a quilt for L., there were orcas on it . . .

    Janie's been gone eighteen years now.  (If you're new here, there are more stories about her in the "Janie" category.)

    Gosh, I'm missing her today.

polar bears in the cold blue light

    Carla's class had us drawing polar bear shapes.  I chose this roaring mama.

    Which led to cloth (the background piece is another of Blandina's creations).

    Cut freehand from silk, she seems a distant relation to one of Jude's beasts that I love so much.  She fits perfectly into the cold weather we're having around here.

    We were back to school today, and while happy to see the children, thoughts of getting back to stitching her filled in the gaps of the day.  Thankfully, there are still some stars to stitch, because I'm a little in love.  

    And she reminds me of years ago, nine-months pregnant, working with first and second graders.  We were studying the Arctics and getting ready for a show.  One Friday I was teaching the kids the dance moves to "Go Greased Penguins" (sung to the tune of "Go Greased Lightning" from Grease), Janie wandered by and saw my Big belly bouncing around and shouted at me.  I told her I was going to dance that baby out! 

    Later that day a group of children and I rewrote "Goodnight, Irene."  Connie called me on Sunday night asking for the words to the song, just in case. . .  "He's never coming out!" I told her.  She was right, he came the next day, and I took baby Blue to the show a week later.  

    Janie and Connie are both gone now, but these memories keep me warm.

    "Arctics Goodnight" (sung to the tune of "Goodnight, Irene")

        Reindeer dream by the trees, snowy owls in their nests,

        Arctic foxes doze in their dens, and hares think burrows are best.

        Seals sleep next to the ocean, polar bears snooze in their caves,

        Walruses rest on the ice cold ice, and puffins dream on the waves.

           Arctics goodnight, Arctics goodnight

           Goodnight Arctics, Goodnight Arctics

           I’ll see you in my dreams…