handstories

Time in cloth & thoughts

    Beginning with one of Jude's moons, this cloth exploded into being... "Cosmic Crossroads".

    The morning paintings are looking more and more like cloth to me.  There are a few ideas about following this thread.  So many ideas, and even with all of the time in today's world, it still doesn't seem enough.

    Moon and I are home alone for a few days.  Still, with most of his day spent at school in his room, other than meals, I hardly see him.  I'm grateful for the moments of connection when he pops downstairs to share something of interest now and then.

    School is going so much better for him (and us!) than last spring.  There is no blame in that statement.  No one was prepared for what happened and everyone did the best they could, but really, for the most part it was a wash.  This year there are expectations and accountability- class, small group and one on one meetings with teachers and other students. 

    Moon even loves most of his classes- especially theater (we're looking forward to the upcoming online productions they're creating), physics and math.  I've listened to his recently written one-act (death, chess and existentialism), tried to understand the existence of ten dimensions (I got lost in the sixth), and the other night, when he came down distressed, feeling that he and his peers are losing this last year of childhood because of the virus, listened, and tried to offer hope, as he hoped that his passion for math and physics lasts, and that "someday, if I'm lucky, I'll figure out a way for kids not to be afraid of time like I am."  His deep thinking has always amazed me.    (P.S.  My time has been spent with thread (with no idea of which dimension I'm in).  These tokens, "Cosmic Crossroads" and other story cloths will be in the shop tomorrow (Friday, October 14th, 9am PST).  Thank you for taking a look!)

Trees & daydreams

    Tina's beautiful dyeing makes a great stormy twilight sky.

    This gave me an idea last night.

    Sometimes every day seems exactly the same, not in a bad way necessarily, but you never know what might change.  Even the smallest thing can matter.

    There are new story cloths in the shop today- lots of trees and daydreams.  

Imagining light

    It's great to have the sky back, the birds too.  I slept with the window wide open under a few quilts- the ones named Story, Serenity and Uncertainty.  It was a great sleep, but then anxiety set in... about the world, Moon having his senior year up in his bedroom, financial worries, my computer, this blog.

    (If you've seen Jude's post, I'm in the same sort of boat, although not quite as far out to sea...yet.  (And, yes, I do believe she's being blacklisted, because her comment was found in my spam.)  I post photos on the phone, text is added on K's computer- which is very touchy, so photos often get accidently deleted, so back to the phone...repeat.  I can reply to comments only on his computer, only on a certain browser.  Also, I can't leave comments on other Typepad blogs, unless I'm on that certain browser.  Since it's hit or usually miss whether my comments make it through to Blogger or Blogspot blogs, I may just be fading/sinking away from everywhere.)

    Given all of the above, it's weird that I've suddenly found the urge to blog often.  Maybe it's the fear that it could all be gone any moment.  A kind of dog-paddling.

    This was a hard week, so much is unknown and being lost, but when someone asks how things are, my usual answer is, "OK enough."  Which is true.  We are healthy, have a home, have each other, have enough. 

    It was the answer I gave dearest friend when we met for a walk today, I asked her the same question back, knowing the answer, knowing that things are incredibly hard for her right now, that she's a special ed teacher being asked to do the impossible as she tries to plan for and teach virtually. 

    She replied, "Fine."

    I stopped in my tracks and whipped my head sideways, "What?!"  Thinking I had misheard her, "How ARE you?"

    "I'm fine."  We took two more steps when she stopped and burst into tears, "I'm NOT fine!"

    We stood on the sidewalk hugging, "Of course you're not.  How could you be?!  How could anyone be?"        After we walked, I came home and straightened up my table.  This surfaced.  I can't remember what it was for?  Some kind of reference for myself, I think, a way of making something make sense.

    And then I stitched.  I wanted to make a mermaid, but couldn't think of a way within my skill or patience level.  So I imagined them- imagined hoping and knowing that they were there just below the surface, slapping their tails, scattering droplets of sea and magic.

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"

stories for selves

   There's been a bad case of start-itis going on around here, but finally some pieces were finished. 

    Trees, moons, ships, and a still life in pink.  Stories of celebration, wonder, connection, and being there for yourself- the tales I tell myself over and over to carry me through.

    If you're in search of a story too, they're in the shop here, thanks for taking a peek.

steps forward

    Moon had a really good day yesterday (even without a hug from his girlfriend or a car).  Blue joined us via Facetime in singing Happy Birthday over candle lit donuts.  We even did a family selfie with Blue on a phone screen.  A sign of the times.

    The three of us stayed up until midnight eating donuts and watching Moon's choice of a Harry Potter movie (which made me happy to know that he's still just a big kid, in spite of telling us all day long that he's an adult now.)

    I've been absent a lot here and on the internet in general.  Between things that have happened for us, and the nothing of most days, my lack of oomph won out.  Really, we are ok enough, and better off than so many. 

    I'm still feeling storyless, actually, that's not true- yesterday triggered bad memories from my 18th birthday, but I don't want to write about that.

    There has been stitching.  These patchwork pieces keep coming.  They surprise me and I like them.  Onward...

crows & cracks

    That storm is still on my mind, looking at the images from it, trying to capture the fractured brilliance of the lightning.

    Today started dark and rainy...dreary.

    K. goes for a walk most mornings.  Lately he's been having encounters with crows.  Along one block they yell and swoop at him, close enough to feel the wind off their wings.  He wrote the crow guy from the newspaper.  A reply came with possible reasons, such as a nearby nest.  He said that they won't attack if you look at them.

    This morning there were three crows cawing in a repeated cacophony outside our house.  Over and over.  Something was wrong.  K. left for his walk with his hood on.  He returned a minute later.  There was a dying crow in the parking strip.  I called animal control to see what to do.  She thought it was probably a fledgling with parents guarding it, and it would be fine.  "I don't think it's fine."  Fledglings can look pretty bad, she said.  I sent a photo.  She called back saying it wasn't fine at all, and could we get it into a box and bring it in?

    When I went back out to get it, it was face first in the grass, dead.  The other crows were silent (I'm hoping they were friends, not foes).  A few minutes later, returning with a shovel to carry it to the woods behind our house, it was on its back, face up in the rain.  (I wonder what happened?)  I put it in the woods and thanked it for its spirit.

        A search for "What does a dead crow mean?" led to this, "While many believe that seeing a crow is a harbinger of death, others say the presence of a dead crow means the end of bad things and the beginning of all things new and good. ... There are also websites claiming crows symbolize change, intelligence, prophecy or strength."

    Oh, I hope so.

"Struck & Still Standing in Starlight"

balancing things

    Yesterday brought news for us, not unexpected, but still, it has tilted things.

    At the same moment a beautiful email came, from a soul who does such good in the world, creating space for healing.  It was a reminder that in the big view of things we are ok.

    The rest of the day was spent stitching, finishing up pieces, thinking about the many possibilities for how things might go. 

    There was a new start, too, and a recognition of that moment at the very beginning of a cloth, when I don't know what will happen, and of how much I love the wide openness of that.

      Gratefulness for Jude's moons, star and scraps, Deb's cloths and threads, Tina's cloth, and so much for the centering circle of this community, oxo.

some story of Story

    It was finished on Saturday.

    Most of yesterday was spent curled up in it- reading, knitting, petting the cat, napping, and finally sleeping under it.

    I know it's not a complicated or fancy blanket, but I made it for me, from my stories and those I love, and it makes me so happy.

    There are lots and lots of places where the stitches run into, cross, or weave to and away from each other in odd inconsistent ways. Unplanned.   

    I don't mind.  I kind of like the meeting places of selves from different days and moments.

    My crazy wonky stitches make me happy.  Sometimes they were lines of getting through, carrying on or finding purpose, and other times- like a laugh of "I'm here!  Having a good time, making marks of myself!" 

   It was started in October 2018, because someone told me to make myself a quilt.  I rolled my eyes at her, but a week later stitched the first few squares.  In a blog post I wrote, "Maybe a very slow quilt, a square here and there, of cloths that are gifts, memories, and loved.  A way to hold them, and eventually they might hold me back.  We'll see."

    It's a good blanket.  (And there are a few stories about this old bed to tell on another day.)

Binding Story

    Not wanting to cover up the edges of the squares on the "Story" blanket with binding, I quilted up to about an inch or so all around it.  When that was done, the three layers (squares, flannel and backing) were trimmed even with each other.

    Four inch wide strips were folded in half and slid between the squares and flannel layer.

    A row of stitching through all the layers.

    Followed by more rows, filling in that unquilted inch or so.

    With the quilting finished on the squares side, it was flipped over.

    The binding folded over and whip stitched into place.

    A finial whip stitched row on the front (just to be secure, or because it meant being able to keep going on it for longer).

    This shows the finished edges from both sides.  Three sides are done.  Probably another day or two for the last one, or maybe I'll stitch another few rows into the binding on the back to keep it going?

    No stories today, but I have been working on writing down a long ago travel misadventure, told a friend on the phone the other night.  We had such a good laugh from it, she made me promise to write it down.  It's so much longer on paper, and I'm not sure it's as funny without my dramatic presentation.  We'll see.

    I'm noticing that more stories are being shared these days.  There's not a lot to share with nothing much going on in most of our lives, the same people, activities, walls... day after day... so the past is coming out to entertain us more and more.  Moon has been shocked to find out how many times teenage K. and I broke up before finally settling down, a friend wanted to hear all about my Camp Fire girl days, and my mom shared (for the first time!) Dad's strange proposal.

    I've always said stories can carry us through...