I love this knothole, it can even wiggle within its space a little.
The silky moon, and much of the blue framing the view, came from the basket of Jude cloths... more things to be grateful for.
It was a lovely afternoon stitching at my table with the window above wide open to the trees out back. Two crows were gathering for a nest, woodpecker, jay and chickadees were spotted (and listened to), there was a rabbit in the yard for the first time, and now and then a soft breeze carried in the sweetness of the neighbor's wisteria...
Thank you so much for all of your thoughts and touching messages. It means so much.
Today I am still out in an ocean of memories, trying to stitch some of them into this twilight blue cloth, with threads named "deep sea" and "blue spruce," and a golden boat. Green and gold were his favorite colors back in the 70's, I wonder if they still were?
When I think of him being happy- he's out fishing on his boat or in the woods hunting...in quiet stillness. I hope he's surrounded in it now.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
