what you know

I've been admiring people sharing their skills, knowledge, and experience online. The only word I have to describe it is "grace". The giving and the receiving of it.

 It doesn't matter what medium or technique, someone, somewhere is sharing what they know. Oh, I know some people make a living at it. And well they should. And some people are just talking through their hat and it's up to the viewer to sort it all out. Another layer of life.

I've found myself in a textile rut that I need to work at smoothing out. There will be more sharing as that proceeds. I might take a stab at making videos, but I'm not sure I can stand the sound of my own voice. We discussed this very thing over tea this morning. 

    C: I don't like the way my voice sounds. It's so different from inside my head. 

    N: Everybody says that. To me, you sound like You. I think I sound like a witch.

    C: I thought you were a witch.

    N: Yeah. There's that. 

We watched a video on how to make calzones. We both said, "What's the big deal?" Next Friday, we'll find out. 

I'm not much of a gardener. I have my specialties. But I come from the black dirt Hudson Valley. You do not have to break a sweat or fool with chemicals to grow anything there. Here in Georgia, not so much. 

This red clay really needs help if you want any serious veggie production, and so, this lazy bones has always focused on small flower gardens. Stuff climbing deck trellises. I'm very good at herbs. I'm good with stuff that doesn't need much help, especially if it's in a container. 

This is a two-year-old hollyhock that I've been raising indoors. Every time I get one this far, and then put it out in the garden, it dies from some kind of rusty mildew. I also have a half dozen peonies in containers that I have no room for on the grounds.  So, I'm going to haul them up to Jake's next weekend to see where they want to put some perennials. 

Charlie stabbed a pencil in the dirt for almost an hour, getting some nasturtiums and morning glory seeds going. Easy stuff is good for beginners. I'll teach him what little I know and point him to wider resources should the interest take hold. 

Chair again

Madame Salem is extremely happy about things returning to normal.

Not that I could tell, but the grey chair had been visited by large dogs. The cats knew and disapproved.

connected somehow

*While I was looking for something else* should be a book title...

 I came across a pale pencil outline in the sketchbook and I remembered what it was about and why I had started it. I was stalling going to sleep, but I broke out my little set of Inktense pencils and started layering on color that I couldn't even see correctly, the reading lamp was too dim, but the pencils were factory sharp. 

I was listening to the fabulous dialogue of Deadwood, and thinking about why salamanders in the Tarot are considered creatures of fire. Most likely by someone who had never held one in their hand. 

They were under every damp log where I grew up and they were cold and wet and never happy to be handled. 

I'm afraid to take a wet brush to this image. As much as I like blending these with water, somehow, this one will get screwed up and then I'll have to burn it. 

This book has been unraveling me in necessary ways. Each time I start reading, the trajectory of the story I'm working on is yanked hard in another correction. 

The biggest issue is I do not know the end of the story yet which makes getting from now to there impossible without a lot of aimless wandering. Lots of darlings to kill eventually. 

The Birthday Chair is back in place. Gave it a deep vacuuming, added some padding to the seat cushion, and added a lumbar cushion. If I keep holy with the thirty-minute timer, all should be well.

There's a full moon tonight. If there are no breezes, I'm going outside and light the firepit. 

I've added another handful of sets to the inventory, but there's a serious shortage of blues. I'll be having another dyefest in May.

Fresh starts

 

The new chair is not ever going to be ass/back-friendly and I'm a little sad about it. On the very first test sit there was a statement. I leaned down and left to retrieve something from the floor and a cheaply mounted legs slowly folded under the chair. Glad to have not been spilled out with the embroidery scissors in my lap. 

So, for now, no more entire mornings given over to stitching or reading in the first light of day. The Birthday chair is downstairs and I'm going to give it a close look to see if there is something to be done to restore it. 

On the upside, I'm sitting in the old office chair typing this. Words will flow. Necessary admin stuff will happen. 

One word at a time...

 ...is how the story gets told.

Loose. Easy.

Slow and focused. 

These damask shreds will be a part of it.

Satisfaction guaranteed.