handstories

Second bite.

    The pin bowl has been filling up with things that float across the table- including flower petals, beads and crystals.  After finishing this piece ("Connections in Light"), they were strung together and played with in the sunshine.  I see now that this photo isn't focused.  Letting that go...

    Another beautiful sunset from Blue in Santiago.  

    Two posts in a row... I think three will make it an official roll.

    Another pretty sunset with friends on a dock in Seattle.

    We dined on Steph's tofu (really squish the water out of the tofu, and cook it until it's really brown (much longer than the recipe in my old stove), Emerald salad, olives, bread, Beecher's cheese, blueberries, spicy sesame capellini, rose, and cookies.

 

Working at Playing

    One of the things that I noticed at the workshop is how hard it can be for me to do things in a different way.  Sometimes it's because I can't think of a new way.  I want to practice playing.

    Nancy's fortune teller is helping.  Repeating the back-and-forth movements takes me back to fourth grade recesses, seeing how fast we could whip through the ritual, how tiny we could make them, trying to force friends to choose certain colors, numbers, fortunes...  (I keep picking #4 because I love seeing her searching bird.)

    Other toys on the table- Jude's beast who wanders through rearranging hills, the Venetian paperweight for peering out of the window, and the smokey quartz that likes to catch the light, or just be held.

    Recently, there was a spontaneous trip to the water.  I wanted to tell the driver, "But wait!  I need to stop at the house for stitching, book, knitting, pencil... anything to keep my hands and head busy, to not "waste" time just sitting!" 

    There was no detour to the house.  I told myself it would be ok, and that I wouldn't crawl out of my skin.  And it was.  And I didn't.  A few lovely hours were spent watching the waves, my mind drifting and floating along with them.

 

    Yesterday I loved putting these cloths from Deb L. and Maiwa's together.  Soft, thin, blue and brown.  This morning, wishing for the arcs to show up better in the lower half, I started adding echoes in white stitches.  The dark day was making it hard to follow the lines.

    Seeing that the lines were clear as day (not this day) on the backside, I flipped it over and stitched from the back, noticing that I had to give myself a short pep talk, "It's just thread.  If it doesn't work you can pull it out."  It was weird, such a simple thing, and I pull out plenty of stitches all of the time.  There wasn't even anything complicated about it, just a plain running stitch.  Once I let go of whatever my crazy is, it was fun to let go of knowing what was happening on the other side.

    Loosening.  I'm going to ponder and practice the idea of it. 

"Thoughts of Light"

Blackberries & Sunlight

"Blackberry Moon" 

    "Purple Rain" was hummed quite a few times while making this one.  (Substituting the word "moon", of course.)  I haven't considered myself a purple person for a long while now, but I do love blackberry, to eat or eye.  More and more lavender tones have moseyed into recent stitching.  Much of the credit goes to the allure of Deb's and Tina's dyeing.  

    A recent car knitting moment, when I looked down and realized I was blackberry and plum from top to bottom.  Grandma Blanche loved purple.  Trimmed her trailer in it, chose a purple nightgown to be buried in, and then there's the lavender marble headstone at her grave...

    It was a beautiful sunny weekend.  Shiny things were pulled closer and closer to play with the light and catch their reflections.  I must have mesmerized myself, because I dozed off mid-stitch at one point. 

"Convergence of Home & Sky"

Choosing

    Putting one piece with another, more proof that everything is all part of the same story.

    Last summer a friend, an old neighbor, who I miss having across the street almost every day, dropped off this blue garden sphere.  I love it.  It shimmers in the moonlight and glows in the sunshine.

    Generally, I'm the first one to point out all of the possible problems that might happen in a situation, making me seem gloom and doom-ish to some.  (I like to think of it as being prepared.)  But really, deep down, I do think that things generally can work out with enough thought and care. 

    K's new job was a financial adjustment.  Absolutely manageable, but not the more carefree comfort that his corporate position had provided.  (Have I said what his job is?  Just in case- it's at a foodbank warehouse.  Where truckloads of donations are sent, sorted, repacked, and then local foodbanks come to gather goods to take back to their communities.  He coordinates volunteers, organizes, etc., and drives a forklift (I can't tell you how much he enjoyed learning to do this!))  Not long after he started working there, in an effort to reduce waste, they opened up an area stocked with expiring and excess goods for employees to take home.  It's been great!  Eggs, milk, organic produce, things that we've never tried (the red curry soup above for one).  You never know what might be there... anything from ricotta to the occasional bunch of roses...  

    There have been so many unexpected gifts from this life shift.

    The Christmas cactus has a bud of hope.

"She Chose Starlight"

Many many moons & blessings

    It's all about moons lately... the moon and my Moon.

    Our Moon is wrapping up his senior year of high school.  Each day is a "Last Something-or-Other" it seems.  Tomorrow is his last in-person class in the school building, then a few more days of on-line, a couple of on-line AP tests, and an abbreviated distanced outdoor ceremony next week.

    This week has been all about the ending of his time with the theater group.  They have meant the world to him.  Finding this group his sophomore year finally gave him a place he felt he belonged.  It was the same for me forty years ago.

    Eleven years ago as Poseidon for an ancient Greece study...

    Last week as King Triton in "The Little Mermaid" school musical.  It's the same crown! (with the addition of shells).

    They did a wonderful job of creating this on-line musical.  Filming in their homes, parks, and a few at a time masked on stage.  I don't know how the editors put it all together?  My heart swelled every time he sang.

    I try not to talk about the fact that his mother has been saying "theater" to him most of his life.  This boy who loved costumes from the get-go, who loved all of the plays and dress up days of elementary school, and who chose the catcher position for baseball because it had the most involved uniform.  Of course, it took a girl to get him to finally audition.

    He's looking forward to the fall auditions at college.  I'm looking forward to seeing him in a musical in-person.

    I'm sorry that I've been absent, and have missed feeling connected... I'm hopeful that things will settle down and back into a routine soon.  There are more good things going on.  I'll share next time.

      This is "Winifred"- a name meaning blessed, joy and peace.  Such a good name!  She will be in the shop update on Tuesday.

    Wishing you all blessings, joy and peace.

Far & Near

    (Apologies for yet another marathon post.  Someday I'll get back to posting regularly and briefly.)

    Thinking about hills, again.  A lifetime of thoughts and memories of them.  Using Deb's threads to wind a story through... The front hill is from her dye pot, too.  The sky is from a class a long while back.

    This week I've been missing people, groups of people, faces.  I try to smile at people with my eyes, hoping that they know that it's an effort towards connection.

    Continuing on Cameron's block using Susan Fletcher Conway's tutorial here for stars.  They're not easy for me, requiring really good light and focus, but I wanted larger filled-in stars.  They're kind of wonky, but hopefully, with a few steps back, they will shine together.  There will be 26 of them, one for each year of his life.  

    Hands representing his, holding the names of his three young boys.  Grateful for Tina's gift of a rainbow of cloth to choose from for the hearts, and wishing that I had Liz's writing-with-thread skills.

    Another day trip with and to my friend's sweet house.  She's received both of her vaccinations, which added even more ease to our time together.

    The views from the ferry were amazing that morning.  The mountains seemed so big and close.  About fifteen minutes after this photo was taken, we were crossing this bridge.

    I gave her my most recently knitted socks and she put them on straight away.  Happily they fit.

    It was a beautiful day, including a stop at a nursery.  She studied various plants, knowing exactly what she wanted to look at (and the scientific names of everything).  I pointed out the fritillaria, "You had some in your yard when you lived across the street."  She was surprised that I remembered the name.  The word fritillaria is a fun one, making it easy to recall, not to mention that the checkerboard flowers are unforgettable and magical.

    It's a marvel how a four inch container can hold a whole complex beautiful world.  This is just the feeling I want to stitch into my little story squares.

    Sitting in the sunlight stitching moonlight and starlight was delightful.

    It was approaching dusk, so the lights were lit this time.  Still want to come back at night to see them really glow.

Making days

    There was a tiny bit of practicing of Jude's wrapped bar stitch on the rooftop with Deb's thread (matching her sky cloth above), while remembering the tedious work of trying to do the short and long satin stitch that Grandma used to fill spaces.  Jude's method was much more manageable and doable.

    Another ferry boat day with a friend, from downtown Seattle across the bay and through an inlet to Bremerton.  I always enjoy the waterbirds... especially the cormorants, with their long elegant necks.

    (Aside- A customer from Australia wrote because a piece mailed at the end of November had not arrived yet.  After some investigation it appears it made it to the post office, but there was a mix-up in the address (we're not sure how), and it's on its way back to me...  Hopefully, it will make it here and have the energy to make another trip!  Can I just say how kind and upbeat her emails were, and what a difference it made in my worry levels.)

    On the other side of the bay, we sat by the water eating our sack lunches- talking about our boys, books, recipes, moderation vs abstinence, etc...  A clear day with seals barking and a quick glimpse of one (it's under the water here, if you would care to imagine it).

    A view from the walkway that leads off of the ferry to downtown.  This alley must be so pretty at night.  

"Third Quarter" by Liz Tran

    Before parting ways, we went into a gallery where Liz Tran is having an exhibit.  A local artist who's work I find joyful- full of color and textures.

    (Aside:  I first saw her work last summer.  She and other artists installed beautifully painted paper lanterns in a local park.  A place where folks play basketball on the court, garden in the pea-patch, and some call home.  It felt like a happy gift to the community.) 

    And then I came home and stitched a tree.

    I think her name is Hilda.

    These have been good days.

A day edged in pink

    An old neighbor and dear friend owns a little house across the water.  Normally she rents it out, but it's empty this month, so we took the ferry there yesterday, she in her car below and me as a walk on.  (Just to say, before you wonder, the entire day was spent with much social distancing care.)

    It was 7:30 in the morning and only a handful of others were with me above deck.  It felt strange and lonely.  The city was shiny in the early light.

    Stitching on this and listening to Jude's post, about being able to "find yourself in anything," warmed my spirit.

    The night and morning until this point had been filled with anxiety, but that all drifted away as we moved through the water.

    Her place is lovely.  A tiny 1940's space that is sparsely furnished between renters, but everything that is there has been placed with care.  The vignettes that she's created in nooks make magic.  I made the piece above for her after my first visit, just after her mom had passed.  It's titled, "The Light of Judy's Daughter" (more about the piece and her place here).

    Even the light fixtures are enchanting.

    The kitchen's reminded me of a crystal punch bowl.

    When I commented on the sweetness of the draped window cloth, she said that she'd hung it there just for me.

    She spent the day working on her garage and house maintenance, while I sat in the "sun room" area.  A cozy sunny spot where sweet peas were sprouting amongst her flower and blue bird pots.

    I stitched, drank tea and watched birds in the yard.  The sky of this cloth was dyed in a class years ago.  I remember not liking it much at the time.  It's grown on me, and how perfectly Tina's cloths in the patched stripe near the bottom match.

 

    When it was time to go, we said goodbye to her friends in the kitchen.

    We were only gone seven hours, but it felt like a vacation, as time with her always does...

    Such a rosy day.

Tools for Light

    The table today...  One of Jude's moons, with some of Deb's indigo silk, a rainbow of threads from Tina, works in progress, and all of my scissors.  They are each good at different things.  The black forged pair are able to rip through cloth with a tug, creating rough edges.  Long straight sharp cutting is done by the big heavy shears.  Only a blue speckled ring show of the small embroidery scissors, probably the most used because of their size, comfort and ability to cleanly cut small shapes.  Finally, the snips that are poking out on the right that are good for quick thread cutting and travel.  Good tools make me really happy.

    The dreams have calmed down some, still busy, but without much anxiety.

    Wasn't this morning great?  To not have that holding breath feeling that has especially hung over the last weeks.  To see and hear hope and joy- on faces, in words, songs, and the amazing beautiful poet and poem...

"...For there is always light, if only we're brave enough to see it.

    If only we're brave enough to be it."

-from "The Hill We Climb" by Amanda Gorman, National Youth Poet Laureate

Trying to get a grasp on things...

   

    And then there was the dream of coming home from blueberry picking to find a pile of octopuses (yes, it's octopuses) on the front room floor.  They were beautiful, the colors of sea stars- purple, orange, rust, gray.... dozens of them intertwined and slowly wiggling in and out of each other.  Thinking they needed to be in a safer spot, I kept trying to pick up armfuls of them, with them sliding and dripping out of my grasp, creating a trail of them as they slithered under furniture and into secret crevices.  

    Later in the day, I was not surprised when the glass I blindly reached for in the cupboard turned out to be the octopus one.

    (FYI- you can refer to them as a tangle, knot, sucker, armful, or a grasp of of octopuses.  Although, the collective noun is rarely needed, as they are usually loners.)

    Speaking of grasping.... There was a sudden decision to grasp and chop off the end of my ponytail today.  It's been a year since it was last cut.  It's been making me nuts, especially at night.  Turning over it kept getting caught under my shoulders, or would wrap around my neck or face.

    Six inches later, and a follow up trimming by K. (because it turns out that reaching behind your head with scissors does not a straight line make), things feel much lighter.

    These little rose branches are traveling all over the house with me and are lasting well.  K. brought them from the grocery store on one of the dark days, just before things turned around.  The painting in the background was a gift to myself a few years ago.  "She Kept Herself Safe" by Amanda Blake.  I consider her a good friend and a reminder here at my making table.

    The frayed edge in this moon makes me think of fringe, which makes me imagine it swaying... a dancing moon.  It's good to be thinking about light again.