handstories

A dusty picture of things

    Received the best text from a wonderful someone this morning (probably because I was thinking about him yesterday, wondering when I would hear from him again...).   It sums up some of how I feel here...

"HOLY CRAP! Hi! Good morning! Missed your birthday, missed your dad’s birthday, missed a whole bunch of other days too, including Pi Day, April Fool’s, and I think national Pizza Day too possibly—all my misses keep building up like tiny bricks and then I find myself behind this wall of “well it’s been too long” and “I’m a terrible correspondent” and those big bricks hold down the little bricks and the wall begins to feel nigh on unbreakable, but I think of you and K and the boys and the tree house and wonder about you all the time, and wonder what you are wondering about, what you are doing and making and all that…so here I am trying to break through my own wall, but I’m afraid the effort of breaking through may have taken most of my energy and now I have not much interesting to say…;) (I’m humming the tune of Tiny Bubbles but singing the words “tiny bricks…in the wall…”

Whew!  And now I have to go downstairs and head out into the world for work…but at least there is brick dust everywhere…;) I will try to keep the construction noise down to a dull roar…love."

    And so, here is some of the dust of my life...

    Deb's wonderful paints, with thanks to her for sharing them and a lovely evening with me.

    I really love watching the blue bubbles through the window on the side when it reaches the boiling point.

    It was awful.  Eventually, there is a nightmare about absolutely everything it seems.  All of my quilts and stitchings cut up into piles to be used in someone's workshop.  I was screaming.  She wasn't sorry.

    I'm working at getting healthier- moving more, and less of other things.  I get in the car as K is heading off to work in the morning and have him drop me off on the way, forcing me to walk if I want to get back home.  

    I didn't paint the frozen mother and child that were on the bench in this nightmare.

    Someone said that all of these dreams are processing my days, that they are a way of working through all of the thoughts so that I can face the next day.  I don't know.  Sometimes I wonder if my days are ways to balance out the images I dream up at night, that I try to look for light while awake so that I can face another sleep.

    Onward...  Hope you are all swell.

Reshaping

(There are all kinds of wonky things going on with photos, comments, and spacing right now.  Crossing my fingers that I found a workaround with this post...)

    

    "Holding Memories"

    Yesterday I was thinking about how my stitching is about creating possibilities.  That stories can come together to make new places.  

    Recently, when asked if they liked me, I was told that I'm "a mixed bag".  My first reaction was sad and hurt.  Then came the thoughts, "Who says that?!" and finally, "Well, who isn't?"  Realizing that every experience is a learning adventure, I decided to be grateful to know more... about others and myself.

    "Mystique" Tree Token

    I think my stitching is about believing in the possibilities of and for stories.

    "Time, love, and work.  That's all you have.  And, hopefully, a few trips to Italy."- Maira Kalman

    Maira Kalman is a favorite soul of mine.  There were hours of listening to (gobbling up) old podcast interviews with her this week (again).  She's funny, charming, wise, and so talented.  I found out that someone I know knows someone who knows her.  Even though I will most likely never meet her, just the idea that she's only a few degrees of separation away makes me giddy.

    Nights have taken on a strange pattern.  Waking around 4 am from intense dreams (a sky full of pink moons, starlit gardens, terrifying shadowy corners...), and then drifting off again around 5 am for an hour or two more of dead to the world sleep.  The morning paintings have become reflections.

    Also, I've started playing in this "seeded notebook" made a while back.

    Really, life can be rearranged and reconnected in so many ways.

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.

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.

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..."

Turquoise

    "1: a mineral that is a blue, bluish-green, or greenish-gray hydrous basic phosphate of copper and aluminum, takes a high polish, and is valued as a gem when sky blue

    2: a light greenish blue" (merriam-webster.com)

 

    Also called sea, sky, river, jewel, lake, beach glass, pond, robin's egg, ocean, and a deeply loved blue.

 

    One of the things brought home from Maiwa's was a packet of turquoise iDye.  Really, I'm not a dyer.  There is the midsummer indigo vat and the bucket full of the neighbor's walnut husks.  But there was something about the idea of "turquoise" and it being a small packet that could be done in the washing machine that created a craving.

    Even though the directions were simple and straight-forward, I was nervous.  Waiting until K. left town for a few days, so as not to have any witnesses if it all went haywire, I went to the basement.  Before getting the load going, I accidently knocked the directions and the packet behind the washer and dryer.  There is no way to reach behind them.  Ugh.  I considered climbing on top of them and leaning way over, but wondered how long it might take for a rescue, or body discovery, if I slipped?  While wondering if it might be a sign to abandon the plan, I was reminded why you do want me with you on that desert island.  A long dowel was found, duct taped around one end (with the sticky side out), both items were retrieved, and... ta-da!

    A pile of dreams.  I wish that I had taken a before photo.

    It was a mishmash of scraps of many colors, including some of that childhood rosey soft sheet.

    Moon is home for the summer.  We are settling in, figuring out routines, remembering how to be with each other again.

    This feels like stitching fresh air...

Dream Days

"Sip of Dreams"

    Many swell happenings over the last few days...  Friday- to Bellingham for Moon's a cappella concert.  It was great to hear him sing, watch him have a great time, be so happy.  And then the treat of meeting up with Deb for dinner.

    After that, a night in Vancouver, B.C. in a room with a city view (across the street from the Coliseum-ish library), strolling Granville Island (Maiwa's!), a delicious Italian dinner...  It's been so long since we've gone somewhere, just the two of us.  It was a very nice time.

    On the way home, there was an extra dose of Deb time!  Tea in her cozy sweet house with two of the friendliest cats you'll ever meet (Widget wasn't interested in socializing).  

    Her GOOD Enough quilt is even more wonderful in person (as is she!).

    Today I potted up her gift of indigo plants, with hopes for their survival under my blue thumb.

    Sunday night I dreamt in cloth.  The memory became the morning painting.  By afternoon, the image was fading, but not the incredible feeling.  A cloth began...
 
    I didn't refer back to the painting at all and was surprised this afternoon to see the differences.  The tree had completely slipped away.  Dream to paper, paper to cloth, maybe I'll complete the circle and keep going, back and forth, forward and back, in and out of the dream.

Taking Time

    Waiting outside of the post office this morning at 8:58, waiting for it to open at 9:00, a man approached with his package.  Read the sign, sighed heavily, stood behind me. 

    At 9:01 he announced that it was 9:01. 

    9:03 a woman with her letter joined us.  "Isn't it after nine?"

    "Is anyone in there?!" he asked. 

    I looked through the window, "There's a light on in the back."  I knocked politely on the door.  (In the past, the regular postal worker has said that sometimes she gets so busy that she forgets to open the door.)  Nothing happened.

    9:05- The man approached the door and banged on it.  Woman and I raised our eyebrows.  Yelling something about google reviews he stormed off.  Woman and I looked at each other, more eyebrows.

    "The post office has a lot going on right now," I said to the woman.  "We don't have a regular mail carrier right now.  We seem to only get deliveries every other day now, after 7:00pm.  They're just doing the best they can."  She agreed, pointing to the "Help Wanted" sign on the door.

    9:08- A postal worker (not the usual one), scurrying, keys in hand, opened the door and held it open for us.

    We told her to take her time.  

    I have poked away at these stars off and on for two days.  Looking for something in them?  Answers?  Hope?  A path An escape?

    Liz saw a pendulum.  That feint pink line--- all of it hanging by a sketchy thread.  Will it swing back?  Crashing everything in its wake?  Or is it secure?  Swirling in the sky, sharing its light?

    I think I need to make some boats.

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"