handstories

The Coast

    Stitched last week on the Oregon Coast with my mom and sister (who I usually join on the east coast).

    We had perfect weather, wonderful views, lots of walks, memories, laughs, and food.

    The house was on the beach, a dream place for all three of us.

    It was the first time in decades that it was just the three of us for any length of time.  Fascinating to observe and be a part of new dynamics.

    It seems that the neighborhood heard that I was coming.

    There was a night that boats scattered near the shore (and an egret, I think).  We made up all kinds of stories of what they might be up to before deciding they were fishing boats.  (The stories were much more interesting.)

    One day we drove up to the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  Growing up, the family would stop there now and then.  We enjoyed watching the cheese makers pulling giant wires through the cheese, seeing the curds and whey, all through a large window over their work area.  Afterwards, there would be sample cheese squares on toothpicks.

    Now it is a huge building with large windows, displays, etc. looking down through rows of windows onto modern machines that hide much of the process.  There were sealed samples to take, a LARGE eating area featuring cheese sandwiches and many kinds of ice cream, with a huge gift shop nearby, and a cheese truck to pose for a photo op in.  A kind of a cheese Disneyland.  It was interesting and a fun stop, but the quaintness and charm were missing.

    I did love seeing that one of their symbols is the silhouette of the Morning Star.

    "1854-  Tillamook's farmers had butter and milk to sell- but hauling it over rough mountain roads took so long, that it would spoil.  The fastest route to Portland is by water, so they built Oregon's first official ship- the Morning Star- to carry their dairy goods to market."

    Home now to a short heat wave, but there's hopefully a storm brewing tonight.

    But I keep thinking of the ocean.

    And thinking about all of the different kinds of light.

Dream Days

"Sip of Dreams"

    Many swell happenings over the last few days...  Friday- to Bellingham for Moon's a cappella concert.  It was great to hear him sing, watch him have a great time, be so happy.  And then the treat of meeting up with Deb for dinner.

    After that, a night in Vancouver, B.C. in a room with a city view (across the street from the Coliseum-ish library), strolling Granville Island (Maiwa's!), a delicious Italian dinner...  It's been so long since we've gone somewhere, just the two of us.  It was a very nice time.

    On the way home, there was an extra dose of Deb time!  Tea in her cozy sweet house with two of the friendliest cats you'll ever meet (Widget wasn't interested in socializing).  

    Her GOOD Enough quilt is even more wonderful in person (as is she!).

    Today I potted up her gift of indigo plants, with hopes for their survival under my blue thumb.

    Sunday night I dreamt in cloth.  The memory became the morning painting.  By afternoon, the image was fading, but not the incredible feeling.  A cloth began...
 
    I didn't refer back to the painting at all and was surprised this afternoon to see the differences.  The tree had completely slipped away.  Dream to paper, paper to cloth, maybe I'll complete the circle and keep going, back and forth, forward and back, in and out of the dream.

Heading into Winter

"Hope"

    The days whirl by.

    A friend and I headed over the pass.  What a surprise to see snow.  My head hasn't caught up with the season.

    The other side, central Washington, the Columbia River.

    I love this river.  Growing up, we drove an hour's ride along the Gorge where it divides Oregon and Washington every month or two.  Sometimes stopping at Bonneville Dam, the fish hatchery, and/or Multnomah Falls, eventually, crossing the Bridge of the Gods to the Washington side, to visit our dear Great Aunt Peggy, the entire family's favorite relative.

"Sea Songs"

    Stitching as much as I can... because it fills me in many ways.

    There was a bunch of tiring time spent with screens and words the last couple of weeks- figuring out shop things.  Business thinking is NOT my cup of tea, it sucks energy and civilized behavior out of me (ask K.).  All I want to do is stitch, but I suppose it's good to stretch my brain with unfamiliar thinking.  Of course, I have spent much more time and energy avoiding some of these things over the last months than the actual deciding and dealing with actually took.  Fingers crossed that all the ducks, cows and hedgehogs are in a row now.

"Ayana"

    (These pieces and a few others will be in the shop tomorrow, November 12th.)

Swell

    Cape Cod was lovely.  Hours and hours, and days and days, spent doing very little.

    We stayed in a cabin on a small island, accessible by a one lane road with a small wooden bridge.  Comings and goings had to coordinate with high tide, which would cover the road in a few feet of water.  There was a miscalculation on the first day and we had three unexpected hours on the mainland side.  That didn't happen again!

    So many beautiful beaches.

    Way too many photos of waves were taken, trying to capture the lines, rolls and feel.

    There were a couple of days spent on one beach, whole days of staring at the sea.

    Seals played close to shore (the blurry black spot in the center).

    I feel rested.

    An unexpected lodging option discovered on one of our many beach walks.

    Just before this sunset, this is the spot where I took a dip in the ocean, head under the water and everything.  I can still taste how salty it was.

    (In real life, there was a swimsuit!)

    The bit of stitching that happened on the trip was finished up yesterday.

October days & nights

    It's been a blustery autumn day here, a wish I could take a nap kind of a day.  Instead it was a day of packing and repacking, wondering what might be needed for a week on the other side of the country, tying up some loose ends before leaving tomorrow, and a little bit of stitching of a wild sky on some of Tina's dyed cloth, with a bit of Deb's thread twinkling in the swirls.  

    A quiet anniversary this weekend- a nice Italian dinner, a ferry ride, and an afternoon on an island.  Thirty-eighth.  Quiet is good these days.

    The dream last night, a crazy adventure with a friend, so long it felt like a book- silk shirt mending, magazine proposals, old people swimming near floating dead birds, a poem writing, beetles, June bugs and a single bee, mannequin mimicking, stitching the word "wonder" on waxed canvas... on and on it went.  I woke up exhausted at 4:30 am and have been awake(ish) since.  Perhaps it's my body's way of practicing for tomorrow's 5am departure for the airport?

    Wishing us all sweet dreams and happy trails...

Week before last

    Monday and Tuesday I drove to Whidbey Island to attend and assist Christine Mauersberger's "Meditative Stitching" workshop.  

    Two peaceful quiet stitching days listening to Christine's insights with lovely women.

    Tuesday's sunrise seen on the ferry. 

    I probably drove more last week than I have in the last year put together.  I have such anxiety about driving, especially now that I do it so infrequently, but it was good to rediscover that I'm capable-ish.

    One day at home, spent packing myself and Moon.  Thursday we drove him up to Bellingham.  Because of COVID restrictions and his being SO READY to start this new chapter, the three of us made three trips with his boxes to the third floor dorm room, and I barely had time to even get misty-eyed during the quick goodbye hugs, in the rush to get us out of there in his thirty allowed slotted minutes.  (Deb, I did wave across town to you!)

    And then I drove back to the island, returning home on Monday night.

    My work table during the four days of Christine's "Binding Time" workshop.  More lovely women, and much more active.  Indigo pots, cyanotype, stitching, gelli plate printing, collaging, and more!  (Including dyeing some thread in my tea (above).)

    There's not much call for sequins in my life, but I do love them.  It was great to have time to play, to work and share with other makers, and to spend time hanging out with Christine during prep, clean up, etc.

    There was a crazy wind storm one day.  The kind of wind that tries to move your car off of the road.  Power was out for some of the island that evening, including the place where I stayed.  Leftovers were wrapped in foil and heated up on the barbeque, and I was in bed at 7:45 due to the dark and cold.

    The clouds were incredible.

    The workshops were held in this spacious building.

    Each day was a new story in the sky.

    There's more to say, but this is a start... hope you are all well.

Far & Near

    (Apologies for yet another marathon post.  Someday I'll get back to posting regularly and briefly.)

    Thinking about hills, again.  A lifetime of thoughts and memories of them.  Using Deb's threads to wind a story through... The front hill is from her dye pot, too.  The sky is from a class a long while back.

    This week I've been missing people, groups of people, faces.  I try to smile at people with my eyes, hoping that they know that it's an effort towards connection.

    Continuing on Cameron's block using Susan Fletcher Conway's tutorial here for stars.  They're not easy for me, requiring really good light and focus, but I wanted larger filled-in stars.  They're kind of wonky, but hopefully, with a few steps back, they will shine together.  There will be 26 of them, one for each year of his life.  

    Hands representing his, holding the names of his three young boys.  Grateful for Tina's gift of a rainbow of cloth to choose from for the hearts, and wishing that I had Liz's writing-with-thread skills.

    Another day trip with and to my friend's sweet house.  She's received both of her vaccinations, which added even more ease to our time together.

    The views from the ferry were amazing that morning.  The mountains seemed so big and close.  About fifteen minutes after this photo was taken, we were crossing this bridge.

    I gave her my most recently knitted socks and she put them on straight away.  Happily they fit.

    It was a beautiful day, including a stop at a nursery.  She studied various plants, knowing exactly what she wanted to look at (and the scientific names of everything).  I pointed out the fritillaria, "You had some in your yard when you lived across the street."  She was surprised that I remembered the name.  The word fritillaria is a fun one, making it easy to recall, not to mention that the checkerboard flowers are unforgettable and magical.

    It's a marvel how a four inch container can hold a whole complex beautiful world.  This is just the feeling I want to stitch into my little story squares.

    Sitting in the sunlight stitching moonlight and starlight was delightful.

    It was approaching dusk, so the lights were lit this time.  Still want to come back at night to see them really glow.

A day edged in pink

    An old neighbor and dear friend owns a little house across the water.  Normally she rents it out, but it's empty this month, so we took the ferry there yesterday, she in her car below and me as a walk on.  (Just to say, before you wonder, the entire day was spent with much social distancing care.)

    It was 7:30 in the morning and only a handful of others were with me above deck.  It felt strange and lonely.  The city was shiny in the early light.

    Stitching on this and listening to Jude's post, about being able to "find yourself in anything," warmed my spirit.

    The night and morning until this point had been filled with anxiety, but that all drifted away as we moved through the water.

    Her place is lovely.  A tiny 1940's space that is sparsely furnished between renters, but everything that is there has been placed with care.  The vignettes that she's created in nooks make magic.  I made the piece above for her after my first visit, just after her mom had passed.  It's titled, "The Light of Judy's Daughter" (more about the piece and her place here).

    Even the light fixtures are enchanting.

    The kitchen's reminded me of a crystal punch bowl.

    When I commented on the sweetness of the draped window cloth, she said that she'd hung it there just for me.

    She spent the day working on her garage and house maintenance, while I sat in the "sun room" area.  A cozy sunny spot where sweet peas were sprouting amongst her flower and blue bird pots.

    I stitched, drank tea and watched birds in the yard.  The sky of this cloth was dyed in a class years ago.  I remember not liking it much at the time.  It's grown on me, and how perfectly Tina's cloths in the patched stripe near the bottom match.

 

    When it was time to go, we said goodbye to her friends in the kitchen.

    We were only gone seven hours, but it felt like a vacation, as time with her always does...

    Such a rosy day.

a very nice road trip

    Yesterday began with a little tiny tree stitching.  Her name is "Aster", a wintery word that means star.

    After breakfast we started off for Oregon.  It was a cold, but mostly clear day.

    Bright sunshine made seeing stitches easier on this "Queen of the Night" purple yarn.

    A quick stop at Powell's is always swell.  They had very clear protocols and arrows to follow, and with only a few people in the store my fifteen minutes there felt very safe.   Only six of the rooms were open, but they were the right ones for me (children's, literature and new arrivals).

    Another stop just outside of our home town was at Bob's Red Mill for a 25 lb. bag (much cheaper this way) of the oats that I eat six days a week. (K makes bacon waffles on Saturdays, a tradition from his father.) 

    (A bit of hometown history... Bob's used to be in the town, but it rebuilt next door after an arson fire in 1988.   Dad and my brother were two of the fire fighters that tried to save the mill.  Everything was destroyed except the mill stones... "Almost indestructible to begin with, the stones were saved when hundreds of pounds of stored grain fell on them from the second floor during the fire and snuffed out the flames, keeping them from shattering in the heat, as well as preserving the gears that turned them.")

    At K's sister's, we were met with a cozy set-up on her front porch- comfortable chairs, blankets, heater, the tv trays from their childhood, etc. and plenty of social distancing.  It was fun to knit while covered with an afghan crocheted by their grandma.  (She was a wonderful strong woman.)

    K's sister loves to entertain and is an amazing cook.  We were happy to oblige!  Homemade pot pies with the best crust (made with the new to me ingredient of vodka).

    After three hours of good food and company, we said our goodbyes among the twinkle lights and candles, and drove the three hours back home to Seattle.  I suppose it might seem silly to spend more time driving than at the destination, but it was worth it.

Coupeville & Christine

    Things are so strange right now.  The virus... How much to worry?  Events being cancelled, going to three stores before finding toilet paper (we were down to our last roll), Moon says a third of the school is staying home, K.'s office has told everyone to work from home for the next two weeks... Where is the line between panic and reckless?

    Meanwhile, I took myself on a short retreat.

    Traveling companions- pincushion complete with guardian girl, Velma's bear, Jude's star, a piece of smoky quartz (I don't know what it does for me, but it feels good in my hand), and the "ease" cloth.

    A whole two days to myself looking at the water and trees, listening and watching the many birds, and stitching and stitching in a cozy comfy room.

    I watched the neighbors frolic during breakfast.

    For lunch there was a walk into town, a table by the window overlooking the water, and eating in a restaurant alone for the first time ever.  Yes, ever.

    And more stitching, knitting and a little painting into the twilight.

    The next morning, and why this getaway happened, there was Christine Mauersberger's  "Stitching a Small Story" workshop.  Christine is a wonderful teacher- inspiring, generous and she creates a warm rich environment to work in with wonderful kindred folk.  I especially love her prompts and how she shares her own process.  It was really good to step out of my own "boxes" and stretch my abstract muscles.  Everything informs and enriches everything.  Also, what a gift it was to be able to see and hold so much of her beautiful artwork.

    "Yesterday in Coupeville" in progress.

    The water, trees, birds...  What a good piece of time.

    There was even a hot pink sunset (pinker than it looks here).

    This photo, with its glowing moons of light, is just how it all felt and was.