handstories

Time

    This was begun last month with beautiful blues from Jude.  It was a good place to rest.

    On Tuesday eve, while scrolling through photos on my phone, a photo of my Iowa friend popped up.  It was her senior high school portrait, taken over sixty years ago.  "Why is this here?" I wondered, and then created a new album of "Favorites" to put it in so that I wouldn't lose track of it.  K. and I talked about her for a few minutes. 

    A friend and I had gone to visit her a couple of weeks ago.  Time has been taking her piece by piece over the last few years, but still her delight and joy in spending time with us shined through.  It was a lovely sad visit.  Yesterday I received word that she had died on Tuesday night.  I will miss her dearly.  I loved it when she called me "Honeybun".  The "Iowa" category will tell you more about her, but this post sums our friendship up best.

    Twinkle has taken a turn, new meds, more "waiting and seeing" for a couple of weeks.

    More nightmares... at first I thought that they were frogs, but no.  The spiders were beautiful and terrifying.

    I keep saying (and feeling) that things are really fine, and they are.  I'm just out of words right now. Life slips by sometimes.

    "Everything Became Home"

(Golden pink moon cloth dyed by Tina.)

Ok for now

    Some things have been started...

...and put aside.  No painting.  No writing.

    Tired on the inside, not sleeping well, nightmares, so tired on the outside too.  Too much thinking, not enough doing.

    Taxes were looming.  Every year feels like reinventing the wheel.  Last time I took notes, but the form has changed, and I was lost as usual.  The helpline person held my virtual hand and did an ok job of not sounding exasperated with me.  Perhaps because she could hear my anxiety and tears brinking.  At least that's done and dusted.  I did take screen shots and notes to refer to next time.  Fingers crossed that nothing changes. 

    "Where the Light Might Go"

    Some things got finished. 

    Including a pair of socks for my sister-in-law.  She's a narrow size six, they go fast.  A purple pair are on the needles now.

    They were delivered during a weekend in Oregon visiting family.  One afternoon, Mom and I went for a drive around the area.  My aunt wasn't home, but a bit of her passion was visible in the front window.  I love how she loves him...

    We also went looking for the house we lived in when I was three to five years old.  I've tried finding it on my own over the years but couldn't.  When we lived there, it was countryside- gravel road, ditches, woods, blackberry bushes, and only a few homes.  Now the fields are filled with houses, shops, office buildings. Nothing looks familiar. 

    It was getting late, almost dusk, and then the road began the curving up around the hill.  There was a body memory of riding in the car on the way home... There was my best friend's house, and her big yard where we ran after her Dachshund.  Around the corner, some of the woods were still standing, and after one more turn, there was the house and its memories.

    The rock wall that Dad built was still there. My brother and I had watched him lift and maneuver the big stones, and "helped" him mix the cement in the wheelbarrow.  I remember thinking how strong he was.   Mom's garden was gone.  Flashbacks of mud pies, learning to ride a bike, "Gumby" on Saturday mornings, Midnight the cat, Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars, and eating the cake that I had won playing musical chairs at the kindergarten carnival.

    I got out of the car to get a better look.  The rain and night beginning to fall.  Standing there, getting wet, staring at that house, recalling other memories, that won't be erased by time or therapy, it was the topper to a week that had felt like a synchronicity of gloom. 

    Yesterday I wallowed in it all.  Today I thought, "That's enough for now," and stitched a red tree named "Carmine," shaking loose the downheartedness for now.  An attempt at "rising above" as a friend suggested.

    Time to start swimming again.

Fortuitous

    K. asked if I get tired of making these little trees.  Nope.  Each one is a surprise with its own tiny story, and I love choosing names for them.  When one is finished, I hold it and wait for a word to come to mind- night, wind, song, light, whisper, etc., and then look up names with that meaning to choose from.  So many wonderful names out there...

    Also, each one reminds me of my wonderful middle school art teacher, Mrs. Trytko, who taught us to draw trees this way.  Tall, wearing caftans and huge framed glasses, she swirled through the room giving praise and constructive critiques.  She offered complicated lessons and projects, treating us with generosity and respect, making us feel like real Artists.  How lucky we were.

    Speaking of lucky... Juliann's name was drawn for the copy of Stitch*illo!  Thanks everyone for sharing your lovely stitching words and thoughts.💙 (Juliann, I've sent you an email.)

Lights in the Dark

    "There Was Humming"

    This one was all about playing... Enjoying circles and the tiniest stitches.  Looking for balance and rainbows.

 

    "The Stars Hold Our Stories"

    This was finished on the way home from spending time with family in Oregon.  It was a different group than usual.  Noticing how the mix in personalities brought new dynamics.  How the same old stories took on new perspectives.  More layers.  

    Mom, who has had such a long, lonely year since her husband died last January had moments of silliness.  Which was wonderful to watch.  And we all enjoyed listening to her laugh as she told the story of how she and Dad met and got together.  How Grandma thought he was a nice guy because he was happy to eat leftovers.  I love how in spite of the turns their marriage took, she has fond happy memories of her time with him.  

    The change in light seems to be reflected in my color choices- things have taken a turn for the dark.  But I'm still trying to stitch light and hope into it.  These story cloths will be in the shop at noon today (Pacific Time).

    Just in case you missed my last post, there is one more day to leave a comment for a chance to win!

Joy

    We strolled through the local botanical gardens for our anniversary afternoon. 

   A place we've gone often.  A place with memories of good and rocky times, alone and with the boys.  K likes the dahlias, for me it's the water features and wispy meadow like spots.  An old timer made a cheesy jokey compliment to me.  Something my dad would have done.  It made me roll my eyes and smile.

    "Asra" meaning "nighttime journey".

    Speaking of journeys... I'm off for the next bunch of days to attend/assist another workshop with Christine Mauersberger.  I'm looking forward to days of making and soaking in inspiration, to sitting still, spending time thinking and wondering, gathering some thoughts and sense of where I am and might want to go.  It's a tall order for a few days, but a soul can dream.

Seeing the waves...

    More seas...  I'm resting in them, I think.  A way of keeping going, no matter the to-do list, anxieties.  Things are fine, just still more of a tossed salad rather than a smooth soup.  K started back half-time today, that will help both of us.  Stir crazy does not look good on him.  Nor does my constant, "Are you leaving the house sometime soon?"  We both need routine.

    It's our 39th anniversary today.  We're both glad about that.

    There were four years of off and on before we got married.  There was a time during my senior year of high school when he would come home from college every other weekend.  During which he would break up or get back together with me, depending on what he had done the last time.  Over and over.  Two girlfriends wrote to him, asking him to end it for good, because being around me during the aftermath of these visits was making them crazy.

    We all made it through that year, and then I went to Alaska for the summer, and new drama began...  but that's another story.

    Sorry about all of the loose threads on this photo.  Didn't have my glasses on.  

Crux

    Walnut ink painted onto cloths dyed with fresh indigo and in that turquoise wash.

 

 

    A moment from yesterday. Rainbow in my blue room (on a wall that could use repainting, just like the rest of the house), Story quilt, and the bedpost of the childhood bed. I should say childhoods...Moon’s, Blue’s, nephews, brother’s, mine, and Dad‘s in the foster home that he grew up in. 

    I’ve been thinking about the soul this week, what it is, how to stay in the space of it.  I was told that it’s a place of who we are, all we are, all we might be.  That all the things that we think and believe about ourselves are just thoughts, reactions, responses, and often judgements. So, I’m spending moments trying to step outside of thinking, and observe the What and Why.

    During the first attempt, I remembered watching Dad at his mom's wake as he struggled to grasp timelines and his past.  Suddenly, I could see the small boy of who he had been, who didn't know what had happened to his world or where his parents had gone.  It was the first true understanding of the why he was the way he was, and the beginning of feeling some compassion and forgiveness for him.

 

 

    I’m also trying to understand walnut ink.  It was dried, ironed, wetted, and then smooshed with a couple of indigo leaves and salt.

 

    What a beautiful green it was.

 

    After drying and rinsing, the rings were barely visible.

 

    And begin again.  I don't know anything about this ink.  It is from a workshop a few years ago.  Maybe I need to make my own?  Either I will figure this out or just keep the ink away from water.

    A Table Story...  Years ago, at a craft fair, M., a friend, bought the bear necklace.  I loved it too, but there was only one.  Recently, M. gave it to me.  She lives on my worktable.  Her occasional adventures are photographed and texted to M.  Yesterday she and the "Story" doll (made by Cathy Cullis years ago) celebrated the finishing of this piece under a sunny scrap of Deb's cloth with party favors of a jay feather and a piece of a tumbleweed from a road trip with M.

    It's funny how elements of stories that have been looked at over and over can suddenly take on new meanings.  That memory of Dad, after all of these years, seems to have opened a door to some understanding and compassion for me too.

"Soul Work"

    I'm keeping this one.

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.

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..."

Something is more than Nothing

    After finishing the piece in my last post (Which I loved making, but it did require a lot of focus as bigger more involved things do.), I relaxed with these three tree tokens yesterday.  I really was thinking of birds but didn't have the wherewithal to figure out how to stitch them, so I gave them bird meaning names- Byrd, Quetzal, and Mavis.

    Mavis was the name of a woman in my hometown.  She wore baggy dresses, a big, long coat with drooping pockets, and bright lipstick.  We would see her out walking her little dog while we waited at the bus stop.  She was somewhere else in her mind.  Often talking to herself or yelling something we didn't understand.   I wonder what her story was?  

Yellowstone Falls via Blue, who facetimed me from a gas station where he had cell service finally.  Tonight they're in a yurt in Bryce Canyon.

    So, I guess tea painting became a thing for me.  Light brown from chamomile and yellow lime-green tea were added.  More flavors may be needed.

    Today has been a slow lazy one.  I did clean a bit of the bathroom.  K and I realize that we've become quite lax in doing what used to be the boys' chores.  Now that they're gone, all of those half-assed jobs that they did at cleaning every week are missed!

    Today a moon start.  Tomorrow, maybe more.  Happy weekend!