handstories

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.

"cultivating peace"

    This is a photo of a photograph by Ishiuchi Miyako.  One of her many beautiful and poignant works on display at the Spirits Rising: Hiroshima exhibit at the Portland Japanese Gardens.

    "...documenting cherished items and clothing left behind by victims of the atomic bomb detonated in Hiroshima at the close of World War II that are now housed at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum." 

    More about her work can be found here.

    We've been in Oregon for a few days visiting family.  The gardens were part of a lovely day with K.'s sister.  I hadn't been there in decades.

    The Heavenly Falls.  (To see & hear them in action go here.)

    It was a bright sunny cold day, and I don't know how to adjust for that with the phone camera, so please imagine all of the lush green that surrounded us.

    There was a view over downtown Portland, looking towards Mt. Hood.

    Such a blue sky.

unexpected wandering

    A friend was going to Portland this weekend, and there was a spur of the moment decision to join her.  She had booked a swell waterfront room, where I enjoyed the river view in a sweet rose covered and pink piped chair, while she went off on her plans.

    It was good for stitching, too.

    We strolled by the river, and around the city a bit... appreciating the walkability, great old architecture and quirkiness of the place.  I took her to Mill Ends Park, which claims to be the smallest park in the world.

    Many cute animal statues that cavort in the fountains along one street were patted and posed with, and we smiled at the happy doughnuts painted on the garbage cans.

    There was also a discovery of a carefully curated upscale GoodWill store, where I just may have bought a glittery wallet, and just outside was parked this very cheery bicycle.

    We laughed much of the trip, mostly at our own quirkiness, including the disoriented feeling that came over me, over and over... a sudden unsureness of where I was, or why?  Not a bad sensation, just wandering in the unknown maybe?

a blur of Joy

    The wedding was in beautiful Whistler, BC.

    Everything sparkled.

    And twinkled.

    And glittered.

    Young and old danced and sang until midnight.

    Including Moon and me!  I hadn't danced in years and years...  It was a perfect party. 

    I loved every minute of it-  all of the details from tying ribbons around the bouquet to into her hair, cutting fleecy "snow" for the stumps we attendants sat on, convincing the bartender that even though they only ordered wine, "surely" there was a bottle of bubbly somewhere for the happy couple (there was!), talking with strangers (who felt like family), the ceremony, dinner, dancing, watching everyone be so very happy (the couple, Moon (who charmed all of the girls, from five to thirteen), everyone) ...All of it.  I couldn't stop smiling.

    Before falling to sleep, I wrote "Joy, pure joy!"

    We came home Sunday night, and I slept for eleven hours, and then yesterday, began really stitching again, all day long.

    I'm back, and feeling better than I have in months.

playdate for new old friends

    After years of "knowing" each other on-line, Deb and I have finally met!  How great it's been to spend time getting to know each other in real-life.

    We're spending time in Coupeville, WA, as students in Christine Mauersberger's workshop.  She has brought us a world of techniques to explore.  

    Here are just a few from the first two days...

    Cyanotype prints- this one had seed beads and buttons on it.

    Geli plate prints.

    Strike-out poem.

    A happy accident with a piece of Velma's beautiful handmade paper.  After dipping the edge into the indigo, it caught on itself, folding up into a wave... more to come with this page.

    The indigo drying tree.

    There's a lot more, too... Christine is filling our minds and time and with creative play, with two more days to go!

gambling

    Vegas.  Wow.  What a different world.  There was fun, heat, and a wide variety of folks to wonder about.  Twenty-four hours was more than plenty.  

    There was another trip there, twenty years ago.  K. had a week long conference, baby Blue was one.  We invited K.'s recently widowed conservative mom to come along.  It was August.  All of it...what NOT to do. 

    I am not a risk taker.  I like to Know things, see where I'm going.  And how I'll get there.  

    Cloth has helped in loosening that.  But still...

    There is work to do.