handstories

More cake, rope & a boat

    This year's birthday season came to a close last night with German chocolate cake made by Moon and a family visit with virtual Blue.

    A new boat, sailing into, or with, springtime.

    I had forgotten some of the rope story...  It all started with this photo and a text from my brother to my sisters and me last April.  What you need to know:  My dad's name was Pat, both of them were in the volunteer fire department of our hometown, my brother's son (D) is now in one in his town, and that my family likes to tell stories.  Here's my brother's in his somewhat edited words...

    "Ok, good morning, prepare for some rambling, or delete now...  Couldn't sleep so have been cleaning shop since 5am and drinking COFFEE.  Weather has been 68-74 the last 10 days and thank goodness it's raining today- makes this quarantine more bearable?  At least it feels ok to sit in/at home.  Shop's clean, drawers organized, and drill bits all sharpened.

    "I said rambling right?  When I resigned from the fire department in February, after 35 years, I cleaned out my turnout pockets, came home and tossed it all in box."  ("turnouts" are what fire fighters call their uniform pants tucked into boots, partially turned inside out, with suspenders dangling on the sides, all standing ready to be stepped into and pulled on quickly.)

    "This morning in my puttering, I mean cleaning, I found I needed a section of rope to hang my gnomes on.  The ones I kept from Pat's (Dad's), as the original rope had rotted away (see photo).  I recalled my "turnout rope" (see photo).  Now you ask what is a turnout rope? 

    "Always carry a piece of rope in your turnouts, that way you'll have it when you need it," Pat-ism (Dad had A LOT of sayings).  To tie off a ladder, a hose or whatever.  On one call Pat borrowed my rope (guess who didn't have his), tied open a door, and let it get burned up when we were pulled out of the structure.

    So I proceeded to give him crap about my rope... And where was his rope?  We know who lost mine, etc.... 

    One drill night in a classroom, he sat and end braided a new section of rope.  Not quite half the class watched him- fascinated as they had never seen end braiding and they still weren't sure why or what he was doing?  Near the end of class Pat came over to me, in front of everyone, and handed it to me.

    "Your f---ing rope, don't lose it again!"  A good laugh.  It's still with me.

    It seems funny, I carried that simple piece of rope and used it Many times for 33 years.  I'll never need it for turnouts again.... Can't decide whether to hang the gnomes with it or....  D. can't use it as now everyone carries synthetic webbing....whatever.

    See rambling....simple things that somehow make us tick."

    Love this rope more and more.
 

More flowers

    Hill as home.  Stitch as song.

    Isn't this cloth dyed by Tina a glorious color?  Fuchsia, magenta, cerise?  And Deb's thread pulling all of the colors together?

    The last two mornings drawings have been of something on my table, still not looking at the paper.   I haven't forgotten that I said I would share more about this painting practice, but I'm still gathering/finding words about it. 

    Actually, I've been very frustrated about words this week, that I can't seem to pull them into the shape of what I want to say.   It takes so much work to get to the root of things, at least about myself. 

    "They Returned in Song & Starlight"

    There was a moment of seeing something clearly the other day.  Two friends asked about finding a way/time to celebrate my birthday.  I did my usual, "Oh, that's nice, I don't know, we'll see...."  Later, after seeing my horoscope for the week, "Your desire to make sure no one is left out or lonely...." , and I thought to myself, isn't that the truth that I do that, and then thought, isn't it the truth that I don't do that for myself, and how hard I work to not take up space or want, to not be seen as all of those words that I sometimes still believe about myself.

    I've probably circled around this topic here before, but this time I reached back out to my friends and said, "Yes."

    Sometimes, after stretching and trying something new, it's really comforting to sail back home in, and to, a comfortable spot.

More trees & seas

“It Was a Map of Possibilities”

    Trees and boats, back and forth.  Grounding and going.  Holding on and trusting.  Knowing and wondering.  Strength and bravery.

    I'm really liking the grays lately, and how they add to and deepen other colors.

    This painting makes me think of an inukshuk.

"Anika"

    The tree tokens are being named now.  Names from heroes, storybook characters, former students, and ones that I just like.  Sometimes it's clear who they are while stitching,  others take a while to get to know.  I'm hoping a Ramona will show up.

   How many trees does it take to make a forest?  This small stand will be in the shop in the morning (Saturday, 11/14, 9am PST), along with a handful of story cloths.  Thanks for taking a peek.

Trees, teeth & singing in saucepans

    Stitched, unstitched and re-stitched during the day of the election.  One of Jude's moons, a piece of Deb's cloth and some of my indigo dying.  Maybe it will become more, maybe a moon cabin quilt?  Maybe.

    The next morning I got up early to go out and say goodbyes to two of our trees.  This cherry out front and the big maple behind the house.  Both were not well, dying, and there was a fear that the maple might fall on the house below, where 95 yr. old Mrs. C. lives.  It was time.

    I wrapped my arms around each of them, saying goodbye and thank you.  One of them wept sap onto my sweatshirt.

    There were more tears at the last moments of the maple.  That square of missing bark is where they cut out Blue's initial for me.  He carved it there the day before he left for college for me to see out of the kitchen window.

    It looks naked.  The Japanese maple was below that front window when we moved in 28 years ago.

    I probably should've written "mourning trees".

    Later that evening, trying to check-out from the events of the week, a crown came off of a tooth, because Friday evenings are the ideal time for teeth issues.  It was taken care of yesterday.
 

    There was also a conversation with Mom, and a need to revise my last post.  I may have yelled, "How am I related to you?!?"  She just laughed.  Sigh.

    Moving on, and hopefully into calmer waters...

    Lastly, our singing group has gone on-line during this quarantine time, and next Monday (November 16th, 7 pm PST), we are having our second virtual concert.  It will be an hour of  silliness and Seattle.  If you would like to see me in a saucepan (and other makeshift costumes), please leave a comment and I will send out an email with the link this weekend.

    Click here for the commercial...

Can I hear me now?

 

    There was probably more time spent on the phone this week than in the last six months put together.  Several calls with friends and family.  Mostly ok to good.  Verbal skills are definitely going downhill with all of this isolation.

    The words that were exchanged are blurred together, much of the information forgotten, only the gist of feelings exchanged remain.  Details that used to matter so much now slip like silk.

    I feel like myself with cloth, and safe.  Possibilities fill the spaces of not knowing, instead of anxiety and imagined incriminations.  When it doesn't work, it's ok.  There's a knowing that things can change, be layered on, or be chalked up to being an experiment or experience, not a waste.  It's all time with cloth.

    It's swell to be in this relationship with cloth.  I'm still work at getting to this kind of kindredness and kindness with myself.

    I am getting better at listening.

There & here

    It was a very nice anniversary, thank you again for all of the sweet wishes.

    We took a drive up to Bellingham for a lunch of our favorite peanut soup and to spend a little time in the trees (and in memory lane) along Chuckanut Drive.  There was an added treat of stopping by Deb's to wave to her and Lola over her gate!

    It is truly an autumn-blanket-on-the-lap-tea-in-the-afternoon kind of day here. 

    This piece has turned itself around and around in my head and hands.  Carrying home, going home, being home...it's all of it.

    I do think things from the last few days are about being content.

    And those loops of thread are heading back to their natural state.

too much

    The other day a box of unfinished pieces, big and small, was found.  I started to sort out the pieces, which ones I might still want to finish, others for dismantling to repurpose the cloth.  There were so many pins and needles to be reclaimed!  By the time the bottom of the pile was reached, I was completely overwhelmed with myself and shoved it all back in and onto the shelf.  Except for one piece.  I cut it in half to rescue the starry sky from the weird fish/sea monster below.  But even the effort it was taking to figure out how to reconfigure the bottom became too much.

    That same day, all of the plans to get to the beach became too involved- too many steps, things and people were having to be considered.  All I want to do is stand still in the waves.  I called it all off and will try again when things feel calmer and more known.

    So this little boat was stitched instead.  It reminds me of my first squares.  Simple.

    And then yesterday, this piece below began with the roots.  I got quite lost in them, and then a red tree grew.

    I don't know what's going on.

journeys

    Business first... These story cloths will be going into the shop tomorrow (Wednesday, August 19th).  

    There has been a lot of staring at these photos, and a wanting and trying to write about how things are at this moment.  Strong feelings of happiness, and sadness, and deep wishing.  The word "clinging" gathered itself and rose to the top.

    I found this when I cleared my shelves in the school basement seven years ago.  Where did it come from?  Floating amongst 23 years of teaching- books, supplies, plans, projects, props, backdrops, etc., and one little boat.  It came home with me, and sits here on the windowsill above the studio table.  It was beyond time to leave that job, some of you might remember.  As awful as that ending was, so many great things came from sailing into the unknown.

    Not long after leaving, this matchbox art was found in a shop.  The message inside might seem sad, but I love it.

    It tells me stories of longing, faraway lands and treasure, and whenever I read the words, "It took me too long to start",  "But, I did." is always tagged on in my mind. 

"Sharing Light"

another Tuesday

    Eighty-nine squares to go.  I paused on this one for a while.  Indigo, walnut and tea, I think.

    A couple of squares begun.  This one with one of Jude's stars, it had floated to the top of the basket.

    This strange thing happened yesterday in response to Jude's post about wrinkles.  Not quite sure what's happening.  It felt like birthing something, maybe myself, but looks like a rock garden, too.  Maybe my mind is a rock garden?  Now I'm remembering childhood stops at a rock garden and museum- an attraction the family would stop at on the way to visit cousins.

    The book of loved things continues, but at a slower pace.  Some pages take longer, like this one of a retired favorite mug.  It was the perfect mug- size, image, handle...sadly, the glaze has worn off on the inside making it unsafe to drink from.

    Just a bit of Rosee...

    "Every night after work, Stew and all the girls in the beauty shop and I went riding before bed time.  It got so hot that summer that the whole bunch of us took a blanket and went out and slept in the pines.  It was a lot of fun.  The summer of 36 came along..."

drifting

    A moon from a lovely bit of Deb's dyeing.

    Trying to float for a couple days.

    I do want to write about the wonderful event I went to last Saturday, and some self-realizations... Just as soon as my brain recovers from the computer stuff (there were a few more issues to wade through).