Been away...
Relaxing. Hardly any stitching.
Lots of wave watching.
Came home to a beautiful package of cloths and threads from Deb and dove in.
I'm not sure what's going on here on Typepad, not sure what I should do going forward, and I'm too relaxed to deal with it just yet.
Scraps from the top layer of the worktable.
Unexpectedly, Moon came home for the weekend. Expecting him to spend his days with friends, I was happily surprised that he asked if we could do things together. A while ago, I had told him about Folio, and he asked if we could go. It's a lovely space down in the Pike Place Market. An atheneum- a few quiet book and table filled rooms overlooking the bay.
We packed up writing materials, stitching, and reading, and spent a peaceful piece of time by the window. He shared some of his writing. I may have pinched myself.
Swam three times last week. It's a mission.
Meanwhile, Blue is in winter, enjoying all of the seasons of Chile!
(Screenshots of the video he sent.) He said it was great fun, but was sore for days. Oh, to be young again!
Today a picnic with Chicago friends who are passing through.
Enjoying the calm stillness of this scrap gathering.
The pin bowl has been filling up with things that float across the table- including flower petals, beads and crystals. After finishing this piece ("Connections in Light"), they were strung together and played with in the sunshine. I see now that this photo isn't focused. Letting that go...
Another beautiful sunset from Blue in Santiago.
Two posts in a row... I think three will make it an official roll.
Another pretty sunset with friends on a dock in Seattle.
We dined on Steph's tofu (really squish the water out of the tofu, and cook it until it's really brown (much longer than the recipe in my old stove), Emerald salad, olives, bread, Beecher's cheese, blueberries, spicy sesame capellini, rose, and cookies.
There are so many things with needles in them. It's dangerous to reach around on my table.
There are lots of ways to say "I'm working" without really getting anywhere. This was a half-start of sorting out the thread nest. I showed a photo of the basket of tangles and knots to a friend. "How did that happen?!" she asked. After explaining how I work, and that there are three other baskets of chaos, she just stared wide-eyed at me. "Do you need more corks?" she asked.
"Fortunately or unfortunately, no," I replied.
I've been experimenting with cyanotypes the last two days. Playing really is good for the spirit.
This boot (can you see that it's a boot?), with its cactus began in the late 70's. My uncle came home after four years of being stationed in Germany with the Army. Grandma took his boot and planted the cactus in it. Proclaiming that it would keep him from ever being able to leave again, she put it next to her trailer steps. I always enjoyed seeing it when visiting her, so when she died, I took it.
It has been at the foot of our front steps growing and multiplying for the last thirty-plus years. The toe of the boot is pretty much gone, it's rooted through its rotting sole into the grass, and a few sprouts have escaped the boot all together. It just goes along with no interference from me.
But THEN, two weeks ago, overnight... that growth/branch/arm on the upper left. Nothing like this has ever happened in all of its forty-something years.
Each day it reaches a little further, stretching thinner.
SOMETHING is going to happen.
Small things can make for such a difference in the days.
"And Still... the Moon"
The flying dream was a great one. It was actually more like swimming in the sky. Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...
A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too). Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo. Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms.
When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music. "Here you go. I'll just be stitching in the living room. Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."
"Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to... My sister told me about it, Braiding..."
"...Sweetgrass?"
"You know it?"
"Yes, I've been hearing about it for years. I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it. Are you liking it?"
"Have a seat!"
"Let me get my tea..."
He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come... Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.
"Robin"
Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass. What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift. I'm halfway through. It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching. I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives. I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connection.
Deb's cloth made for an earthy hill on blackberry-ish purples by Tina, with a small scrap of the starry cloth K. gifted me for Christmas twenty-five years ago in anticipation of baby Blue.
There was a bit more boat mending in the wind and the cold under a daylight moon.
In an effort to maybe, just maybe, get this quilt done in time, I keep it on my lap while stitching for the shop. Whenever there is a bit of thread left in the needle, it goes into the quilt. Sometimes it's only a few stitches, but that keeps things interesting.
Speaking of interesting... There was an evening at my friend's condo this weekend. They live near a hospital and a couple of nursing homes, so sirens are common. But suddenly there was siren after siren...
We looked out the window to see that the street was full the length of two blocks and around the corner of her building.
Across the street an old, abandoned house.
We spent the next hours watching out their windows. The hours were also spent with fond and fearful memories of my dad's decades as a fire fighter.
The house is still standing, without some of the roof and floors.
"It's never a dull moment around here!" I commented. We laughed at the crazy their world seems to be full of these days. Over there again last night, we talked about how pretty the fire actually was, especially at one point when snow was falling. We thought it could be their Christmas card... "Our world is on fire, and still beautiful... Merry Christmas!" We laughed some more. Laughter is such good medicine.
And so is stitching! (More of Deb and Tina's dyeworks.)
"There Was Humming"
This one was all about playing... Enjoying circles and the tiniest stitches. Looking for balance and rainbows.
"The Stars Hold Our Stories"
This was finished on the way home from spending time with family in Oregon. It was a different group than usual. Noticing how the mix in personalities brought new dynamics. How the same old stories took on new perspectives. More layers.
Mom, who has had such a long, lonely year since her husband died last January had moments of silliness. Which was wonderful to watch. And we all enjoyed listening to her laugh as she told the story of how she and Dad met and got together. How Grandma thought he was a nice guy because he was happy to eat leftovers. I love how in spite of the turns their marriage took, she has fond happy memories of her time with him.
The change in light seems to be reflected in my color choices- things have taken a turn for the dark. But I'm still trying to stitch light and hope into it. These story cloths will be in the shop at noon today (Pacific Time).
Just in case you missed my last post, there is one more day to leave a comment for a chance to win!
As promised...
Some of you might remember this book from a few years back. I wrote (and jumped up and down with joy) about it here. It's a beautiful and inspiring book that celebrates the work of textile artists. Being included was an honor and a turning point in seeing myself as an artist.
The love/hate relationship with technology continued... Our house has been without internet service for a week. After several phone calls, three new modems, and two trips across town for exchanging... we finally have one that works, with enough oomph to reach the studio, and doesn't hum. Hallelujah.
Meanwhile, there has been stitching. These two nine-patches were inspired by Jude's post. Some of the blues are from her too, the earthy one is made up of naturally dyed cloths from Deb of Artisun, and both have a linen napkin edge from Deb L.'s dyeing.
Not finished at all, with many sketchy lines in blue-grays that have something to do with how the sky might hold our stories. A thought that came while thinking about how the starlight that we see is from the past. There's more to do and think about.
Ideas are brewing on this one, too.
(P.S. Tomorrow, I have a giveaway to share!)
(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"
"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.
