It's the little things.

This was an interesting day that did not start out auspiciously. To quote Leonard Cohen, “I ached in the places where I used to play.” I was tempted to go back to bed and stay there, but I'd had my fill of tossing and turning so I forced myself to get up and get on with what used to be a Good Day; coffee, some eats, getting dressed and out of the house, errands and a walk in the park, followed by some pool time. It's been since the end of June since any more than two of these were possible.

I'm going to be deliberately sketchy about the first event because I was the unwitting participant of a little Robin-Hoodery. Let's just say it was one disgruntled but friendly New-Yorker doing another one a favor in a show of solidarity. And somehow I knew he was going to do it before he did it.

Then it was off to the park. I haven't walked there in weeks and I didn't realize how my writing (what writing?) had suffered for lack of thoughtful footwork. Wallowing in the pool doesn't lend itself to fresh ideas lately, just bliss, too much of which turns the brain to jelly. Ask any opium smoker. 

Less than a quarter mile in, right at a convenient stone perch in the deep shade, I got down a substantial portion of a scene that I have been avoiding since it had a name. I called it good and went to stand on the bridge and watch fish for a while because it was hot and I was out walking will.

I have been a bird watcher, a bird noticer, my whole life. Seeing an unusual bird is meaningful to me. A sign of sorts. There, in the stream, playing on a sandbar with a few flycatchers was a feathered jewel. The small bird was completely

peacock blue and just glittered in the dappled light. I only know of one bird that is so relentlessly blue, the indigo bunting, but I had never seen alive, only in pictures. I can only assume that the greenish light of the glen gave it the turquoise cast, otherwise this was an alien visitation. Tomorrow I'm going back with the good camera and see if I was crazy.

July Dyefest 1

The first one that's gotten the work area cleaned up and tools and supplies organized. I'm a little disappointed in the subtlety of the results, but that's just Me. Never happy unless it's Carnival Time on Acid. 

one note in a score

~

Opposite ends of one small (11x24) piece of damask found folded and tucked down under a couch cushion. Discovered while looking for couch money!

It will serve briefly as inspiration for the dye deck tomorrow, rain or shine, and then, some traveling.

some crass commercialism

I'm diligently spending time each day organizing/gutting the studio. There is a construction sized bag of vintage white cloth under the big table waiting to be carried (by some Oog, not me!) down to the dye deck. Summer will be long and hot, so no hurry.

There are also  four or five 30 gallon tubs of dyed scraps waiting for far-flung new homes and capable hands so they can continue on their journey to becoming Art.  See more about them HERE.

I'm also going to be  listing a variety of (mostly) never-been-touched art supplies and equipment for little more than the cost of getting it to you. The room is only 10x11 and I'd like to be able to at least rearrange the furniture!

an admin monday

all that bill paying, schedule juggling, medical appointment stuff out of the way, I can use the good morning light and work here and think about a name.

When the sun climbs and the light turns green from the trees, I'll venture out for a few more short errands.

Then...

return to color

This has been on the design wall a while now. I think I stuck it up there just so it wouldn't get lost in the flood. I've been studying it  and have decided I'm in love with it again. How does that happen? Poor thing doesn't even have a name yet. It deserves finishing and a name so I'm going to set aside all the fits and starts in the river basket and try to focus on this one, so close to done.

It was built on a piece of polar fleece and will need to be backed and signed. It's pretty large, 30x44 I think. I will hang it on the inside of my bedroom door so I can see it from the bed.

my cure

It's been since Saturday since I saw him last and I was astonished at how much he's changed, but, then again, it may be that he was very subdued today since he's still getting over his first "day care" cold. All he wanted was cuddling, conversation and a little Curious George. I was happy to have help. Babies have always liked Colin. It's like having a circus for backup singers.

A+ day

"Nothing happens by thinking it through."  Who said that? Some damn hero I'd like to thank, but tonight, it's me.

I got up early, slew two administrative dragons and scratched them off the list. Then spent a total of fours whole hours actually writing.

The kinds of things that you say "Yeah, I got that. This, this and that needs to get yakked about here and more of the same there in order for this whole thing to make any sense.

Just having in my head is not all that useful to the reader. This little boring bits of connective tissue are everywhere. I feel Dr. Frankenstein's pain.

Meanwhile, the dye deck has become jungle lush. Who plants sunflowers and hyacinth vines in deck pots? My jars and steel tubs wait patiently.

just going - thank grace & jude

The only blogs still worth reading are the ones where the writer is having a substantive conversation with themselves while staying aware that they have an audience of readers who care. The things shared may be mundane - art fails, garden triumphs, day to day doings - or they may be world changers, which are tougher to share, but I like to think of the sharing, all of it, is an act of affirmation; the affirmation of the commonality of human experience.

I have withdrawn from here in recent months because I felt I had nothing to contribute. My creative focus has been pared down to words on a page and the feedback I get from the e-world regarding writing in general, is that it's a fool's errand. I might just as well finish a good scene and then take it to the crapper, shred it and flush a page at a time so as to not jam up the works.  And yet, I persist.

It reminds me so much of the major frustration of being a fiber artist! All that time and energy going into something that winds up rolled and put into storage! Right now I'm looking at a pile of over a dozen large pieces

waiting to be re-rolled, wrapped and inventoried to go back into storage in a different location leaving me to ponder what has been the real work of my lifetime, undoubtedly, my people.

Meanwhile, the world still spins day to day and chores await. Here's the annual studio in chaos picture. I can promise an "after picture" because life and changes have necessitated that I return to the room on a daily basis. Change your surroundings, change your mind? We'll see.

mending & thank you

I keep missing these!  The moonflowers have opted to bloom on the outside of the trellis this year and I've been sleeping too late to catch the blossoms open. A trend that must cease.

Saw my primary doctor yesterday and he was happy that all of the things that I have been tested for have come back negative and my overall health is good .

That's not to say nothing happened. It was all in my head, yeah, that's the ticket. Whatever "it" was has left me with damage to repair through physical therapy for a while. There will be follow-up visits with a neurologist and I have to go looking for a walking stick but no drilling my skull for the fun of it at the moment.

Deep thanks to all of you who have offered strength and encouragement all along this mystery trip. I did not buy the t-shirt, or postcards and do not plan on passing this way again.

the world spins on ....

....without me. As it will for all of us, riders or not. I am feeling a little better each day even though I have no diagnosis as yet. I'm not being treated for anything specific- all of which makes me hopeful that my body is tending itself and making the necessary adjustments.

I feel suspended in time. When I go outdoors I can't tell by the sun or rain if it's spring or fall, the weather has been in neutral since I came home from the hospital.

I've not done any satisfactory stitching without stabbing myself so here's something that goes back a few months. My contribution to Charlies musical education.

He's had to start daycare a little early and it just breaks my heart even though he's a bold character and ready to meet the world on his own terms. He will flourish.

(If utube tampers with the audio here's the link to the music that was playing )