handstories

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.)

Stitching by Snowlight ❄️

    This morning's view...

    It seems I think about bowls and glass a lot.

    The snow continued off and on until midafternoon.  K. measured thirteen inches on the car top.  Meanwhile, Blue says they only have a few inches where he is in Michigan.  How strange.  I remember Michigan snow lasting six months when we were there.

    This morning Moon was putting on all of his winter gear.  "I'm going to go dig the car out."

        "Why?  You're not driving it anywhere."

    "It'll be fine, I just have to roll down the hill to the main street..."

    That's our car across the street.  There are only footprints and sled tracks on it.  No one is going up or down our hill, let alone a teenager who's been driving for less than a year, and never in snow.  His plan was kiboshed, and he hiked up to the snow route bus stop.

    I loved how bright the day was.  Stitching by snowlight, while listening to neighbor kids squeal on sleds sliding down the empty streets.

Snow, Sister & Stitch

    A surprise for Seattle this morning!  We woke to ten inches, and it's still falling...

 

    It's also my sister's birthday today, and her gift arrived on time!

    Often I bring along mending supplies when I visit her in Rhode Island, stitching up a jacket elbow, shirt sleeve, whatever...

    Not knowing when I might be able to tend her mending again, I made this little mending kit for her based on a sweet pattern by Ann Wood (find it here).

    Stocked with possible patches and thread in her colors, pins, needles, etc.

    She doesn't enjoy mending like I do, but at least she'll be able to... or there will be supplies ready for my next visit.

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.

March blur

    There was an idea, but this isn't quite what was imagined.  A way to see the roots below, but I thought they might be more visible.  Roots take time.  I wanted to consider them more.  Hmmm...

    These were put together yesterday, and they've been staring at me ever since, like a blank eyed triclops.  What do I even want to see here?  The lines in the bottom left one make me think of the railings in Munch's "The Scream".  Better not stitch on these today.

    And this morning we woke up to snow.  In March.  It's a confusing day.  It's raining, and melting now.  Maybe that will help?  And definitely more tea.

ends, ending, endless

    A very big heart-full thank you for all of your lovely supportive thoughts and wishes.  I'm here in Oregon.  The drive yesterday was a little precarious, but to my great relief and joy a very good dear friend, who likes adventures and driving, said she would drive me and then take the train back to Seattle!  Can you believe it?!

    The view and company were beautiful.

    But now I am here.  My brother, who lives here, had to work today, one sister arrived this evening, my Rhode Island sister was delayed by a storm and won't be here until tomorrow.  

    So, I was alone in Dad's house today.  Some of the time was spent packing up the kitchen for donations, some of it was wandering aimless through the rooms learning some things about him.  Overwhelmed by the task, grunge, emotions, I took breaks.  Went to the grocery store for boxes.  Went for a long walk in the rain through my childhood streets.  Stood under the tree next to our old house.  Remembered dad up in it, trimming the branches, one falling on his face and breaking his nose.

    This was my bedroom, there were pink gingham curtains back then.  The house was light blue.  At night, I would crawl out and sit on the roof, looking at the trees and street lights, the park two blocks away, the sky, trying to imagine a bigger world.  One night I wrote a poem about it.  It was in seventh grade.  (I know that because I remember it was in the spiral notebook with a scratch-n-sniff dill pickle on the cover.)  When I showed it to a friend the next day, she didn't believe I wrote it.

    I wonder what it said?

piece & peace (& lack of)

    Yesterday was a pretty and peaceful day.  Our hill was quiet and calm.

    We got about seven inches.  The day was spent stitching and not thinking about Tuesday's trip.  

    Last night anxiety attacked.  Nightmares of Dad and guns, me trying to keep others safe, and another of fragile wombats and premature babies that I was responsible for keeping alive, and failing.  Today there is a headache and stress for the weather, the drive, some of the people to be with there, the task to do, and for the work left to do inside of myself.  

    It's looking like I should leave tomorrow, a day early, between storms.  I don't like driving in good weather.  I don't want to leave home.

    Time to start packing, and searching for some inner peace...

storm watch

    Here we go again...  It started at noon today, ending by four tomorrow, maybe a little more on Monday, and possibly a new storm on Tuesday.   My sisters are flying into Oregon on Tuesday from Rhode Island and California, and I'm supposed to drive down the same day.  We're meeting to empty out Dad's house, and then have the Gathering.  The weather report for Portland is much the same.  I'm not worrying about it all yet.

    Some stitching.  Moving from piece to piece as the stories come.

    I've been to the grocery store, moved the four-wheel drive to the flat main street a block away...the city is shutting down.  

    Now just watching the prettiness, and thinking about the things that we'll find in his house... Pendleton wool shirts, deeply stained coffee mugs, old western paperbacks, and the last of his salmon catches in the freezer.

snow & sense

    Two snow days with no school...what a treat!  Self-indulgence abounded, including hot chocolate.  Yesterday there was knitting, and today one of Jude's moons is becoming a personal talisman.

    Twice I had to go out and deal with foolish drivers.  We live on a steep hill.  If it's snowy and icy, and there are no tracks in the snow, do not try driving up or down it.  It's not rocket science, people.  But, if you do, I will come out with a shovel, roll my car backwards down the hill so you won't hit it, offer guidance to help you get down, and be kind (but I will raise my eyebrows at you).

ghosts & hope

    This morning, in that place in between dreams and waking, there came old feelings and memories, tiny flash-backs of moments.

    The clearest was from thirty years ago, while visiting a friend...

    "What's the hardest part?" she asked me.  

    We were in her backyard, on our backs looking up at the stars.  I can't remember much of the house, or even where it was, but I can still feel the cool grass on the edges of my face and the heaviness of the depression I was struggling with.

    "Waking up and knowing that I have to get up and do it all over again," I said staring into the night.

    

    In the fog of this memory, opening my eyes to the dim light of early morning, I was glad to know that there was plenty of time for a shower, oatmeal and making tea before the sun was all the way up.  That there was a whole morning with cloth, without a wasted bit of light, to look forward to.

  How swell it was to realize things are so different now, that often there are too many ideas, plans and wishes for each day, and that the dark skies usually hold hope and possibilities.

    And now it's snowing!  A tiresome burden for much of the country, I know, but it's a rare treat here in the northwest.

    Wishing you all some peace-filled dreams and days, oxo.