handstories

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..."

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.

Full days

    "Ruby" for the gem-like feel to it.

    Someday I'm going to find the perfect clear pink glass bowl that lives in my imagination.  Some days it will be empty except for the rosy light glowing inside of it, other times rose petals might float in it, or a few special marbles will roll at the bottom, and once in a while it will be filled with sea water.  Someday.

    What happens when you have five minutes in the bathroom and a pair of scissors...

    It went much better than the last time.  K didn't have to repair any oddly cut angles, and I can roll over in my sleep without getting tangled again.

    Autumn is going full blast this week- wind, rain and dark dark mornings.  I love it, except for the fact that my studio room is cold.  It has the best light, and the worst temperatures- an added on room that holds summer's heat and winter's chills. 

    I've been wrapping myself up in this length of knitting.  A few of you might remember it... Knitted eight to ten years ago from some of my first handspun, over six feet long, and called "Breathing" because of this moment.

    (I do own a shawl pin thingy, but have no idea where it is.)

    And there's been more moon play.  The story changed over and over as I worked on it.  Actually, I guess that the cloth just grew somehow, because all of the stories are still here.  No name yet... still thinking on what words will hold all of the layers.

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....

falling

    I am out of words and thoughts.

    Just going.

    One slow stitch at a time.

    Grateful for moments of light.

    And for remembering that they are there.

    There is a corner downtown, enclosed, when you step inside... waterfalls, trees, flowers, ferns, chairs and small tables to rest among.  A lovely world away from everything in the middle of it all. (Here)

    A token of love, thoughts and prayers was put into the mail yesterday.  I hope it gets there.  Because I don't know what else to do.

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.

pink skies and silver rain

    Out our window, a week ago at sunset.

    At the same time, across town, K. saw a double rainbow.

    It was a very nice Christmas day.  One of our (my) traditions, is that I go into the living room first, and take a photo of Blue and Moon as they come into the room and see the tree with the filled stockings and gifts below.  Not to be undone by distance, with Blue zooming on the computer, Moon carried Blue on screen in, and I got my photo.  For the next hour, he "sat" next to the tree and we opened gifts, made jokes, and took a group selfie with one of us holding the computer facing the camera.  Technology was the very best gift this year.

    These are the Wise Guys, my favorite childhood ornaments (except for the beautiful glittery glass balls that my brother has).  If you look closely, there is a single silvery strand draped above and over the top right guy.  I took it off of Mom's tree one year.  She called it "rain" and our childhood trees were dripping with it.

    You see what I mean.  My brother and me, 1967. 

    K. was quite concerned when he first saw my family's tree style.  Lucky for him, this single strand of tinsel is enough for me.

    Mom doesn't do a tree anymore, and passed the angel topper on to me.  I remember shopping for it with Mom and Aunt J.  Mom pointed it out on the top shelf, Aunt J., being taller, reached for it and I held it in front of me as I sat in the shopping cart, asking if I thought it was pretty?  I did.  Mom doesn't believe I remember this, because I was only two, but I do.

    This is Christmas Night, after the photo above.  I'm four.  I remember what led to this, too. 

    I had brought my new doll, dollhouse and their boxes into my bedroom.  Crawling into bed with the new doll and the old one (so that she wouldn't feel replaced), I looked at the dollhouse on the floor...  (Here's where I'm going to tell you one of the strange things about me... I have always personified things.  I don't know what this means or says about me, but there it is.)  So, on that night, looking at the dollhouse on the floor, I worried that I was hurting its feelings by not bringing it to bed with me, too.  So, I got up and brought it into the bed, and then returned for the boxes, because how sad for them to be empty and alone on the floor...

Dreamy

         After watching the full moon rise the other night, there was a really good dream.  K. was surprised, and couldn't remember the last time that had happened.  He's right, they are usually murders and mayhem.  But this one was lovely, with an edge of sadness, but even that was ok.  I was a widow, and had made a tiny handmade paper book that was to be a gift for a new love, who was both a prisoner and the jailer at the same time.  I came to visit each day, sitting in a tiny cottage just outside and stitched while we talked and sometimes danced.  Once while turning slowly to the music, I wept, remembering my first husband.  There was a pregnancy, too.  We watched as the baby rolled and stretched in my belly.  During all of this there was wondering about what to put into the book... pressed leaves, paintings, poems?

    In the morning there was a little more work on the tiny book.        The next night's stories were of visiting Wes Anderson sets-  rooms with pink walls hung with pretty paintings and antlers... all the while trying to convince family members we weren't so different.        Then, in real life, but just as dreamy, came wonderful mail from Deb Lacativa.  This sky is just a bit of a length of cloth that holds so many stories waiting to be stitched, and I wish you could feel and see how silky and soft that moon cloth is.        And I am absolutely in love with this beautiful piece.  I just keep carrying it from place to place with me.

skies & writing

    Still dreaming in pink skies.

    Some dipping in blue.

        Yesterday I realized that I had grabbed the wrong red thread in the middle of the quote on the SJSA block.  But, even with an opportunity to redo some of the words, I'm noting that my handwriting isn't any better in stitch than it is with a pen.  Still more work to do on this.  How I wish I could sit side by side with the young artist and do this together.  This is an exercise in letting go.