handstories

She did, and she did.

    I went, got in, and alternating laps with and without a kickboard, went back and forth for twenty-five minutes.  At the end of the first length without a kickboard, so happy that, oh so slowly but without stopping, I made it to the end, I started to cry.  (I don't recommend doing this in swim goggles.)

    Back home, I started this piece about water, waves, sunsets, and memories of nighttime skinny dipping in the ocean long, long ago.  Jude's moon swam to the top of the basket at just the right time to float above Deb's sunset.

    Those front waves are from this Maiwa cloth from our last trip to B.C..  I just love the crackles of blue in the white.

    Pencils were sharpened.  It always seems like such a chore, but so satisfying once I sit down to do it.

    There was a phone call with Mom.  She had been to the beach with her sisters and had an "awesome" time.  She talked about waking up at four in the morning and watching "the brightest and fullest" moon set into the sea.  It was nice to hear her happy.

    And remembering our recent ocean trip...During our time together, we visited old haunts- the beach camp we kids went to for years, and a beach town where Mom had lived growing up.  The whole time, as we drove there, walked on its beach, and driving away- she recounted story after story of her time there.  Where she played with friends, the hideout in the rocks on the shore, where they caught the school bus, the boy that lived down the road...  On and on her happy clear memories poured out.

    Later, we were surprised when we asked her how many years she had lived there?

    "Only about nine months, when I was nine."

    How the ocean has held my family is really something.

    I went back to the pool this morning.  It was harder.

    I think I'll start this summer's indigo vat today.

    Have a good weekend. 💙

Moons aplenty

    When I accidentally tore one of Jude's moons, a story came pouring out.  There are +'s to continue, dots to repeat, purple and magenta to float further, and, of course, more stars... 

    Moon called just to chat out of the blue yesterday.  You can't believe what a wonder this is.  Maybe we've both grown up some.

    There are twelve blocks so far (although, looking at them today, I saw that a couple were put in the pile before they were finished).  More than I thought, but less than needed.

    (Five posts in one week!  I'm calling this an official Roll.)

Hello!

    The love/hate relationship with technology continued...  Our house has been without internet service for a week.  After several phone calls, three new modems, and two trips across town for exchanging... we finally have one that works, with enough oomph to reach the studio, and doesn't hum.  Hallelujah.

    Meanwhile, there has been stitching.  These two nine-patches were inspired by Jude's post.  Some of the blues are from her too, the earthy one is made up of naturally dyed cloths from Deb of Artisun, and both have a linen napkin edge from Deb L.'s dyeing.

    Not finished at all, with many sketchy lines in blue-grays that have something to do with how the sky might hold our stories.  A thought that came while thinking about how the starlight that we see is from the past.  There's more to do and think about.

    Ideas are brewing on this one, too.

(P.S.  Tomorrow, I have a giveaway to share!)

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.

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.

Considerations

"Moon Life"

    There were some days with family in Oregon this week.  So much storytelling happens when we're together.  My brother is great at the "gotcha" ones, just like Dad was.  There was a comforting happy comment from K, who said that if something ever happens to me, he'll need to spend more time with my sister, "I love watching the two of you, you're so much alike, and so funny together!"  We are a funny group.  At least we think so.

 

    I stitched myself into a starry corner with this piece, it seemed there were never going to be enough stars to fill the space I wanted covered.  I was seeing stars in the end.

 

"Sky Spells"

    There is no memory of where the textured cloth at the top came from.  It's silk, I think.  Is it considered seersucker?  I think the indigo was my doing.  So much is lost in (or out of) my head anymore.   

    I want to learn how to talk about making more, and need to, as I've just committed to doing it for a zoom hour next March.  My reaction to the request was the usual:  Flattered, sure that I didn't have anything worth sharing and couldn't possibly, panic, wondering how to graciously say "No, thank you", wishing that I could pull myself together to do such things... and on and on.  All of the usual well-practiced and repeated, fear-based things.

    The only thing that I did differently was to recognize that there is a middle place between yes and no, besides fear...  Maybe.  Possibly.

    My reply held questions, concerns, and a confession to never having done this before and not being sure how.  The response was warm and reassuring.  Realizing that I am tired of saying no out of fear, I wrote right back with a shaky "Yes."

    There is a notebook, once used for Moon's "Spanish 1, Ms. Perez, P-3" class, abandoned a few pages in, that now also has the word "Zoom" written on it.  It's where things that might be of interest to other stitchers are being written down as I work.  "Jude" and "The Circle Community" are a few of the first words.  

    Friends and therapist have reassured, "Just tell your stories..."

"In Her Dreams"

Week in Review ***

(*** Friends of ours eat all of their leftovers on the weekends, they call it "Week in Review".)

"Circles Held Her"

    Unexpectedly, the houses are still coming.  I want to learn some photo collage skills, to create a village of these stories of home for myself.

    The evening birds seem much more contented than the morning ones.  More songlike, rather than desperate "Let's get going!" tweets.  Remembering the mornings of hungry little ones and the rush to get everyone everything and out the door on time.

    LOTS of Jude's thread beads happening.

    Sometimes I end up feeling dotty from them.  Deb's thread and cloth must have had the same dye recipe, and Tina's yellow framing cloth is the icing on the cake.

    I've been listening to books from the library while I stitch these days.  Finished a lovely middle reader Caribbean fairy-sea-tale yesterday, A Comb of Wishes, and am now partway into Cloud Cuckoo Land.  What a change in required concentration level!

    A boat stitched while thinking of dearest friend who is out at sea for the next couple of weeks.  She leads a life of adventure with new experiences and people at every turn- a glittering existence.  In my quiet lamp lit corner, I sometimes wonder how we found and held onto each other over the last twenty plus years?

    Walking through Seattle in springtime, it's hard to remember to watch where you're going.  I'm often tripping over the sidewalk cracks or getting dizzy from craning my neck to the sky and tree tops.

    On Earth Day, someone on Instagram posted their visit to Walden's Pond.  I was there 24 years ago last January with K., visiting my sister, and six months pregnant with Blue.  The pond was frozen over.  I stepped out onto the ice so that I could say that I was on Walden's Pond.  K and my sister's guy stood on shore shouting at me to, "Bring the baby back on land!"

"Itzel" Mayan for "rainbow".

    Wishing you all a colorful week of glittery things.

Notes From the Basement

    I want to revisit some ideas from the past.  See what they might hold now. Will they mean the same things? Will they hold more? Will I even remember why I went there in the first place?  This one started with scraps on the table from recent pieces, including cloths dyed by Deb and Tina.

    (The water cloth is antique Japanese silk from Richard that I dyed in indigo years ago.)

    This is being written in The Basement.  (More about why in a moment.) The Basement is cellar-like. Uneven cement floor, ceiling that can be touched flat-footed with pipes and beams exposed, and more cobwebs than a haunted house. Not to mention all the THINGS & STUFF. 
   All to say, it’s not a comfortable relaxing place to be.  And it's cold down here.

    Some things were thrown yesterday- me, some words, a tantrum, and a spatula.

    Fortunately, K laughed through it all, took over the dinner cooking, and brought wine up from The Basement (one of its good qualities).

    There had been disappointments, frustrations and a triangle tangle of a conversation that I felt I had to scream to extricate myself from.  None of it was a big deal, I was just having A Day.

    Well, none of it was a big deal except for The Basement.  The plumbing issues are not over. It’s not the plumbers' fault. K and I took a gamble and lost.

    The Basement, where I am vigilantly babysitting the washing machine, waiting for the moments that it drains into the utility sink.  Each time switching out the buckets that I've placed under the hose, alternating them as they fill, and running them out the back door to pour into the woods.  Repeating this activity over and over so that the water doesn’t overflow out of the new drain in the floor into a 6-foot-wide puddle across the new cement.  The drain and cement that will need to be jackhammered out again to fix the problem.

"A Place of Through"

    Today I am resigned and resolved about it all, while running buckets to and fro.

    Earlier, I thoroughly enjoyed the process of finishing this piece.  Hours and hours of stitching without direction, filling in crevices between stones, beside starlit water... switching from French knots to Jude's thread beads willy-nilly, enjoying the surprise of color changes in Deb's threads, and nothing has been thrown... yet.

    "The day's not over," as Dad would've said.

Friends & playing

"Cara"

        A few trees have sprung up this week, brought to life with Deb's rainbowed scraps and threads.  I do love the surprise of each of them, the not knowing who they are until they're finished.  Once done, I hold them and see what feeling or word comes to mind.  In Cara's case, it was the connection between the tree and star.  There seems to be a conversation, an understanding, a connection... which led to thoughts of friendship.  "Cara" means friend in many languages- Irish, Spanish, Latin...

"Yawen" and "Linnea"

    "Yawen" is a Chinese name meaning cloud patterns.  Do you see the faint cloud line that I followed in blue stitches?  "Linnea" is where I landed after a search for pink names.  It's Scandinavian for a small pink mountain flower.

    I wonder who will show up here?

    A blue moon playground by Tina.   I wasn't sure about my ability to stick with and pull off a tidy stretch of Jude's stacked stitches, but ended up enjoying the process, and could see that I improved as I went along.  Practice, practice, practice really does work.

    Twinkle is so glad that I'm home, but not happy that I'm spending time at my table, rather than on the couch with her.  She tried to balance and make do on my lap, but not for long.

    There was a beautiful glittering silvery dream last night- a boat ride near waterfalls and a new version of Portugal.

    

    And more waves for Barbara....

Weaving self

    There was a day in the drear of August, at a loss of what to do with myself (or in spite of), that I went looking for old projects.  Looking for something that could be continued without much thought or effort.  Many half-starts were found, including three made of six, nine or twelve inch square pieces.  Another with random pieces patchworked together, a few with appliqued creatures, and strips of hills from this pattern, begun more than a decade ago.  Just looking at the stack of starts and stops made me weary.  Was there a way to mishmash them into one?  Just to get a useful blanket if nothing else?  Without math or planning?

    The rotary cutter was grabbed.  Much of it was cut into three inch strips.  A strip quilt was in mind.  In the aftermath, looking at the pile of long and short lengths, I knew that I didn't want to spend hours sewing long lines on long strips, so I put them in a box, put the lid on, and shelved it all.

    A week later, I woke up and thought of weaving- a possibility.  I was remembering Jude's workshop years ago, and that day she mentioned weaving on Instagram- a sign.  I spent the day re-reading and re-watching her Cloth to Cloth workshop- a path.  

    And begin, again...

    It seemed to fall together so easily. 

    The weaving will continue in and lengthen out of the white cloth.

    I can't tell you how good it felt.  Forget to eat-stretch-call people back-or start dinner good.

    I remembered the joy of those early days in this community, Jude's generous sharing, the excitement of learning a new way to be with cloth, getting to know many of you, the photo of Grace up on the ladder stitching into her huge cloth weaving for her daughter, finding my own way with cloth while holding hands in this circle... it was filling.

    It's so good to feel the glow of autumn again.