handstories

sights & sounds & silence

    In the middle of my time on the island, I realized that this was the first time I have ever been away alone overnight.  It was very deeply swell.  

    No internet, housework, appointments, to-do lists, etc...  Just the wind in the tall tall trees, eagles, hawks, a heron, birds calling at dusk, and later frogs in the darkness.  

    There was stitching, successful fire building, and a delicious second breakfast.

    Painting happened for the first time in weeks, bad painting, but still, it was good to move a brush.  The guys thought I was crazy for bringing that little Christmas cactus along, but after two years of waiting for blooms, and having them finally show up last week, I wasn't going to miss a minute of them.

    And there was time in a fairy tale with a couple of friends for company... one of Jude's strays marked the spot, while Velma's bear weighted the pages of Snow & Rose by Emily Martin.  ("Snow and Rose didn't know they were living in a fairy tale...people never do.")

    And more stitching and some writing, too...lots of beginnings.  

    During a nice long beach walk with the guys once they came, there was some wondering about how to stitch barnacles? 

        It was all really really good.

inactive movement

    Being much bigger than the usual little squares and too small for a blanket, someone asked, "What is it?"  

    "It's restful,"  I replied.

    Adding a backing layer for support to the thin loose linen base.  It's more of a speckled basting, rather than Jude's invisible-ghost stitching.  Each dot a mindless thought, moving through, and on.

 

slowly sailing

    It was a very good time away with my sister.  We did so much... a three-day road trip to The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, Mass MoCA, Storm King Arts Center, and more, including some time by the sea.  I'll share more once the too-many-photos have been edited, and the head cold from the flight has passed. 

    At Jude's very good suggestion, I'm floating slowly back in after being un-plugged for more than a week.  Today was spent with a thermos or two of tea, a box of tissues, and starting the stitching on this piece for a friend who was diagnosed last week.  I'm trying to stitch deep strength and bejeweled wishes for her as she sails through the waves of this storm.  Jude's moon holds both, I think.

    I hope you are all well and swell.

calming

    It was a very welcome quiet weekend.  Moon caught a cold, and decided not to go to his double-header baseball game yesterday (There may have been some silent cheering going on in my head, and no, I'm not competing for Mom of the Year).  Instead there were hours of stitching (rather than 5-6 hours of driving across town and sitting in bleachers (when there are bleachers)).  

    All of the sewing in the previous week felt like a frenzy of bursting stars, which were cathartic and fun, but it was so nice to settle back into a peaceful floating along ship that kept company with some slower breathing.

    And there was a beautiful sunset.  I'm very grateful for lovely still moments these days.

brimming

    Under a blue moon's glow.

    It should be held close.  Gazed at so hard you can see yourself in it.  Wandering the woods.  Deep in the silence and the cool stillness, with the soft sounds of quiet life.

    I wish I were smaller.

finishing in the morning light

"Feeling"

    More and more I really don't like to drive, especially at night, but taking Blue to the airport last night, a different way than usual to avoid traffic, there we were on a big on-ramp to the freeway.  It was a long curve, up high, and I was so nervous.  It was just like one I'd been on in a dream.  With glaring lights below, and the fear of going off over the dark edge.  

    "This is just like a nightmare I had!" I exclaimed to Blue.  

    He talked me down, saying it was all fine, and fun, and that the lights were cool, and he was right.  

    Moon and K. left last night for a campout this weekend.  So, this has been a quiet morning of knitting, painting, and a few texts back and forth with Blue as he made his way across the country, and feeling fine.  

    And remembering . . .

    When Blue was a month shy of two, realizing he hadn't nursed for a couple days, I asked him about it.  "All done nursing," he said, "Big boy now."  I must have looked sad, because he brought me a plastic toy horse, "Here, Mama, horse nurse!"

    There is such a sweetness in him.  

grounding

    A piece of smoky quartz, bought a few years back, a stone I'm drawn to.  Years ago, there were smoky quartz earrings that were worn non-stop, until one was lost in Venice.  This chunk sits on the window sill next to me, catching the light, or on hard days, in my pocket (It's not quite comfortable there, but its lumpy sharpness brings grounding thoughts to mind.).

    I worked on this for hours yesterday, and a couple this morning.  So much was done, but looking at the big picture it changes so slowly.  All kinds of things are seeming stuck, but I'm taking it as a sign that I need to be more still.

    The sea is finished.

    And the garden it waters is almost planted.  

Guemes days

    We're back from Guemes Island.  Blue found a piece of lavender sea glass.

    There was some time at Square Harbor, where the guys threw rocks, sticks, rocks at sticks, and hit rocks with sticks, as they do every time we're near water. 

    There were sunsets, stars, owl calls, herons in flight, and one little mouse who ran up to the open door, saw me a few feet away, and scurried away.

    Some sea was started, a sock knit, a whole book read, a puzzle half finished, early bed times, lots of naps, and several rounds of our family's crazy obnoxious version of Apples to Apples.  We're all quite rested, I think.  Amazing what a few days of being disconnected from it all will do. 

how to make time for being still

    Today-

    Wrestled with oil paints.  Neither of us going where or how we planned, but ending in an acceptable truce.  At least until the next layer.

    Scurried from painting class to an appointment.  It was a new driving route, to a place where there is frustratingly little parking, so allowed for plenty of time.  Arrived in plenty of time and found a perfect parking spot.  A spot under nice trees to stare at, with a breeze.  Time to sit still, breathe, listen to the radio, stitch and think of the sea.

    After appointment-

    Because of that time of sitting, staring, stitching, and listening, the car was dead.

    Called AAA.

    Phone died.

    Borrowed stranger's phone (she had to show me how to use it).

    There were two more hours to sit, stare, stitch, and to imagine the music of the sea and the hum of the moon.

the hum of home

    Other than Twinkle, I didn't speak to another living soul yesterday.  No neighbors, phone calls, anyone.  Very strange, but fine.  Stitched most of the day, the piece above, "The green of home was calling".  There was little bit of putzing, tidying (found the missing pair of jeans!), reading, texting with the guys, etc...

    Today will be much of the same, plus the biannual haircut.  She only works two days a week, so when I tried to schedule a month ago, the first appointment was in August.  Really wishing it could be sooner, I sent her an email last week, asking to be put on a waiting list for any cancellations, please.  She replied "Yes".  I replied, "I will visualize someone not being able to make it, for a happy reason, of course!"

    The next morning there was another email from her . . . someone had had their baby early!  Things like this happen often, but the connecting and vibrating of things still thrills me.

    We will also talk about my next show at the salon.  Between the new pieces that have been started and those left in the shop, I think I can get it together in the next couple of weeks.  I do wish I were more organized . . . sighs.

    Today there will be silvery silky shiny clouds.