handstories

The sea and the sea and the sea...

    A long while away to the Oregon Coast.  With Mom and my two sisters.

    For Mom, who turned eighty.

  

    I thought of Deb and her clouds on this eve.

    There was only a little stitching.  Lots of walking on the beach.

    Even more wave watching.

    Great views and weather.  Better each day and the sunsets more beautiful each night.

    "When She Dreamed"

    I started this piece there but got stuck.  Thought about taking it apart.  Fortunately, decided to deal with it when I got home.  A personal piece to add to the few other faces made a year ago, after last year's ocean trip for Mom. (The others can be found by clicking on the "Her Stories" category below.)

    There was so much to think about on this trip.  Some things were said that surprised and silenced.  It's fascinating how the same and different we all are.  How we hold, hide, or hide from our truths.

    This one is about making our own skies.

She did, and she did.

    I went, got in, and alternating laps with and without a kickboard, went back and forth for twenty-five minutes.  At the end of the first length without a kickboard, so happy that, oh so slowly but without stopping, I made it to the end, I started to cry.  (I don't recommend doing this in swim goggles.)

    Back home, I started this piece about water, waves, sunsets, and memories of nighttime skinny dipping in the ocean long, long ago.  Jude's moon swam to the top of the basket at just the right time to float above Deb's sunset.

    Those front waves are from this Maiwa cloth from our last trip to B.C..  I just love the crackles of blue in the white.

    Pencils were sharpened.  It always seems like such a chore, but so satisfying once I sit down to do it.

    There was a phone call with Mom.  She had been to the beach with her sisters and had an "awesome" time.  She talked about waking up at four in the morning and watching "the brightest and fullest" moon set into the sea.  It was nice to hear her happy.

    And remembering our recent ocean trip...During our time together, we visited old haunts- the beach camp we kids went to for years, and a beach town where Mom had lived growing up.  The whole time, as we drove there, walked on its beach, and driving away- she recounted story after story of her time there.  Where she played with friends, the hideout in the rocks on the shore, where they caught the school bus, the boy that lived down the road...  On and on her happy clear memories poured out.

    Later, we were surprised when we asked her how many years she had lived there?

    "Only about nine months, when I was nine."

    How the ocean has held my family is really something.

    I went back to the pool this morning.  It was harder.

    I think I'll start this summer's indigo vat today.

    Have a good weekend. 💙

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.

No rhythm, but still...

    Flow and time are sporadic and come in patches.  I feel like a crazy quilt.

    But there was a trip to M's house across the water.  Leaving the city and all of the things behind for a day.

    Soon it felt like another world.

    (Except for one moment...  There are signs everywhere stating that masks are required inside the ferry, you may be outside on deck or in your car without one.  Also, multiple announcements are made stating this, and that masks are available if needed.  The man sitting across from me did not have one on.  We moved to another part of the boat.  A while later the man was walking throughout the ferry, still without a mask.  We watched him pass one of the pursers, who was walking towards us. 

    Yes, I am a rule follower.  Yes, I think everyone else should be too.  Yes, I am a bit high strung these days, with things feeling somewhat out of control.  Yes, I may have been desperate to control something, anything.  Yes, I called out to the man, "You need a mask!"  Yes, I was ignored.  Yes, I called out to the purser who was sauntering by, doing nothing about the unmasked violator, "That man needs a mask!"  His eyes smiled, seemingly thinking I was just admiring his epaulettes.  I waved him over, "Excuse me!  That man isn't wearing a mask."  He then patronizingly began to explain to me that there was nothing he could do, other than offering a mask and a reminder of the requirement.  "Well, did you?"  I was met with a questioning confused look.  "Did you offer him a mask and a reminder of the rule?"  Silence.  "Do you have a mask to offer him?"  (I probably should add exclamation points to my last three statements to convey the tone I was using.)

    "Uh, yes, I can go find one..." and he quickly scurried away.

    "Sorry if that was too much," I said to M.

    "Nope.  It was just you being you.  Let's go down to the car."

    The rest of the day was wonderful.

    She gardened.  My height and long arms came in handy for dead heading the sunflowers threatening with their weight to break the stalk before the rest could finish blooming.

    Inspired by beautiful gifts (Deb, Jude, Tina), I stitched for the first time in days.

    It felt so good to notice beauty everywhere.

    We wandered through a flea market.  So many pretties and memories.  We found sets of our childhood dishes sitting right beside each other in one display.  A very good day.

    Autumn has arrived.  Bright glowing days and crisp air.  There are things to look forward to soon.

"Imagining Beyond"

Gathering light

"How it Would Be"

    A thin moon layer of Heike's dyed silk allows Deb's wonder cloth to shine through.

"Unexpected Rainbows"

    Bigger than usual, 9" x 7".  More of Deb's cloth sailing in the breeze.

    My favorite spot.

    Life is in a tunnel right now, but there are a couple of lights twinkling at the end of it. 

    Spectrums.

    I have the hardest time photographing paintings.  The light is rarely right.

    Two friends, by two favorite artists.  "Story" made by Cathy Cullis many years ago (resting in a bluebird tea cup that matches one belonging to a dear friend.  She gave it to me so that we could imagine having tea together anytime), and a painting by Amanda Blake, "She Kept Herself Safe".  It was a rare spontaneous instantaneous purchase a few years ago.  I named her "Lucinda," and just looked up the meaning- light, of course.  They are across the table directly in front of me as I stitch.  Keeping company and an eye on things.  There are a few more friends here, but these two are giving me meaningful looks today

    The teacup friend texted today, "Are you ok?" 

        "Nope.  But trying to be."

"Gathering Light"

   Or "Audrey the Third" if you're Dee (ha, inside joke).  A Threadcrumb moon, deep purple wave by Tina and the sky, and reverse-side patch in the bottom corner, are a Maiwa cloth.

In Seattle & thereabouts

    There are days when you just need soothing.  Stitching this silky moon from Jude was just that.  Like stitching water.  It grew into the tenth moon cabin block.

    Favorite fabrics, some took a while to find.  Somebody really needs to get some ducks in a row over here.  That pink cloth looks like it might be too much, but I'm hoping it will be balanced out once it's surrounded by other blocks.  Or it can come out later.

    A visit to the Bainbridge Art Museum...

    Upstairs, in the Sherry Grover Artists' Books room, there is an exhibit going on... "Every Day & Special Days".

    What a happy honor to be a part of it!

    And to share a space with so many wonderful works, including dear Velma.

    There has been some searching for my best Self .  She seems to be M.I.A. a lot lately.  It seems Moon and I are working hard to create many memories that we will hopefully laugh about some day.

    Also on Bainbridge Island is the beautiful Bloedel Reserve.

    Most of the photos I took were of water.

    I just love this willow.  It holds the memory of another willow, that held a memory of another willow for my mom.  All of the willows held/hold happy moments.

    The day ended with a beautiful ferry ride.

    Wishing you the bluest skies.

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.

Making days

    There was a tiny bit of practicing of Jude's wrapped bar stitch on the rooftop with Deb's thread (matching her sky cloth above), while remembering the tedious work of trying to do the short and long satin stitch that Grandma used to fill spaces.  Jude's method was much more manageable and doable.

    Another ferry boat day with a friend, from downtown Seattle across the bay and through an inlet to Bremerton.  I always enjoy the waterbirds... especially the cormorants, with their long elegant necks.

    (Aside- A customer from Australia wrote because a piece mailed at the end of November had not arrived yet.  After some investigation it appears it made it to the post office, but there was a mix-up in the address (we're not sure how), and it's on its way back to me...  Hopefully, it will make it here and have the energy to make another trip!  Can I just say how kind and upbeat her emails were, and what a difference it made in my worry levels.)

    On the other side of the bay, we sat by the water eating our sack lunches- talking about our boys, books, recipes, moderation vs abstinence, etc...  A clear day with seals barking and a quick glimpse of one (it's under the water here, if you would care to imagine it).

    A view from the walkway that leads off of the ferry to downtown.  This alley must be so pretty at night.  

"Third Quarter" by Liz Tran

    Before parting ways, we went into a gallery where Liz Tran is having an exhibit.  A local artist who's work I find joyful- full of color and textures.

    (Aside:  I first saw her work last summer.  She and other artists installed beautifully painted paper lanterns in a local park.  A place where folks play basketball on the court, garden in the pea-patch, and some call home.  It felt like a happy gift to the community.) 

    And then I came home and stitched a tree.

    I think her name is Hilda.

    These have been good days.

Waves of thoughts

    Missing the ocean.

    From a place deep inside.

    Is this is a moon or a sun, maybe it's both?

    We're trying to figure out a way to go for a couple of days that will be safe, work around Moon's online school schedule, and won't cost too much.

    Mending an old old favorite linen/cotton shirt.  The best thing I have to wear in tomorrow's 95° weather.  A few years ago this shirt was donation pile because of never being worn, because it was beige.  Thankfully, it caught my eye while there was an indigo vat going.

    The old wavy glass windows of the house made a beautiful reflection on the studio wall today.  Remembering swimming pools on a hot summer days.

    Jude's posts about understanding, eyes and insect shells, led to the idea of winged eyes.  New points of view and understandings.

    I am all over the place- in doing and thinking, but seeing and being in the sea is a very focused thought.