A year of unexpected grace

 

2022 was very hard on people in subtle ways. 

There was no pre-pandemic normal to go back to.

People craved escape, in any form. Some creators came through in astonishing style.

Some of us makers muddled along.

Little birds grew strong wings. Families found new nests. May 2023 be gentle on us all.

Home

 

Look familiar? 

I'm in the process of moving out of the studio and back into the master bedroom. It's going to take some getting used to.

Remembering the studio's morning light and the street view. Moving personal stuff out. Leaving art/writing stuff there.  Remembering it was all scattered anyway. So much less stuff than before. 

While I dragged stuff to and fro, he keeps tradition.

The seven-degree weather was belied by blazing sunshine this morning and I got caught up in adding another reveler. 

The TV was already gone. Just music, sunshine, and list-making

Last night was the first night back in the big bed. As if I'd ever get it all to myself.

Merry Christmas!

Away

 

I spent a few days with Charlie at their new place. We wandered, investigating the territory. Found a grand library where the let him borrow books and a game before he even had a library card! 

Three stalemates at Connect Four makes me think chess could be next.

Bad weather and no internet led to shenanigans. 

Charlie's sky

 Never in this lifetime have I seen so many stars, but it's so achingly familiar.  

Then there's this

They Fly!

Tonight, they will sleep in their new nest.

I am so happy for them.

 

I didn't cry until the truck disappeared around the corner.

Full sleeve?

 

Maybe using up all the thread in my stash will be the spur for an indoor dye fest. 

I have to do some digging in history to find when and if I tried dyeing thread in my kitchen in the past. The memories are not good ones. Weak colors. Skips and misses. Tangles?  A mason jar half full of turquoise sprung a mysterious hole. There was blue and blood everywhere and I never found out why.

There will be research.

In the meantime.

I may be one of the few people you know who does NOT have a tattoo. I wouldn't put anyone's art on my skin permanently. But this star fell a bit off-center and needs to be balanced with something. Then something else. And more. I could have a full sleeve, but I'm pretty sure that's going to involve opening the seam to have room to work. 

***

It was 75 degrees by noon.

I put some of the houseplants back outside. We'll chance a few more days of moderate temps. 

The shift is on

 

On Friday, Jake met Charlie at the bus stop after school. They packed for the weekend and drove to their new home. Missy met them there and they spent the whole weekend painting and whatever else a house needs to start looking like home before the stuff arrives. Smart.

The official moving day is still in flux. Fortunately, their furniture is in storage with family only fifteen minutes from the new place. More importantly Granny, Aunt, Uncle, and little cousins are also that close. That is an immense comfort to me.

It was quiet around here. Colin was at work and I was left with four felines who couldn't seem to settle anywhere, hunting from room to room for their housemates. In and out the cat door, fussing over previously shared territories. 

I will learn how to be alone again. It's only an hour and ten minutes' drive to visit and you know how I love to drive.

Cloth & stitch is better than getting a tattoo. 

a gathering place

 

Some people journal. Looks like this is where I'm going to spend the early morning light. Gathering thoughts, ordering them, organizing the day. Priorities. 

Remember the Magic InvisibiIity Cloak? It's long past wearable, gathering dust on the back of my office chair. I remembered how I rushed it into existence. Paving it over with whatever shouted the loudest from the River Basket.  I'll be salvaging the tasty bits that stayed strong. 

I'm not going to rush this new one. A stitch here, a stitch there, as time allows. Images that resonate, colors that thrill me. And never shying away from picking out a bad or thoughtless passage of stitching. 

Nothing lasts forever. 

And that includes inventory. 

On the one hand, the next hot summer day feels a long time away. 

On the other, how the days fly by!

Home

 After taking time to straighten up the threadbox, I found just enough heat to start my engines. Didn't even draw the shape. Always mindful that I could remove it without harming the cloth. Also not referring to the original once I got started.  It's good.

On to the big news. Jake, Missy, and Charlie have found their home. The closing was yesterday and they plan on celebrating Christmas there.

Home will always be where the heart is.

Juiced

It's in here somewhere.

I have a new denim jacket - my Dixie Mink - and I want to either stitch this high on the sleeve or stitch another (as if) directly to the shirt. Problems abound.

A. I can't find this one.

B. I have NO red, even warmish, dirty thread in my stash. In fact, my stash is so vanilla these days, every time I open the box, I get sad and just shut it.

That sad thing. I'm at a place where I'm deciding if I want to eat a big hunk of the shitty, sad pie that I have been baking for myself daily. 

Or not. Decision made.

The remedies (and the results) are much tastier. 

I hate being web-coy, but it's not all about me, so, more facts in time. 

As I rummaged through my stash for the heart, I found snips of red-hot fun everywhere. For now, I'm resisting the urge to build a heart from these scraps because I won't be happy with the outcome. 

Doing for the sake of doing never does it for me. Ever. 

Patience.

 

All hands

So much inspiration everywhere. 

I cleaned out the River Basket and found a few UFOs that I barely recognized. A few that only need finishing touches.

The base is a piece of that modern, super-light linen. The pieces that fall into place as I cut and bend them to my will, damask. All of it dyed over this wonderful, one-of-a-kind summer.

The stitching is helping me find balance. A groove and an anchor in the face of changes. 

 

Carving out time

I knew it would happen. I fell victim to @brediculousyarns from Instagram. This is "Interstellar". Her colorways are a lot like mine.

"Fiber: 75% Superwash Merino / 25% Nylon
Knitting Gauge: 7-8 sts = 1" on #1-3 Knitting Needles
Hook Size: B1 - E4"

All of that is greek to me. I think a sheep was involved early on. Everyone knits fabulous socks and sweaters. I will settle for crocheting a pair of mittens but I have a sneaking suspicion this ball will only yield one.

It was warm and muggy so I took a book out on the deck. Instead of reading, I spent time weeding all the deck pots and hilling up some fresh dirt around the old Mother Thyme and Lavender.  Wrapped a few stems together for spellwork, maybe. Chasing mosquitos is more likely.

Little unknown seedlings have sprouted in all of the pots. No clue what they might be so I left them. If they make it through the winter, more power. If not, more compost. 

I ordered a bunch of perennial seeds from Baker Heirloom today. Now to find a half-ton of chicken shit and a few pounds of clover seeds. 

The book is very good, but it's making me nervous about the two trees that we left standing. 

I'm not even certain of their species and I'm doing weird shit to the soil over their roots, planting flowers where nothing grew but briars and ivy. 

The arrogance.

Threadbare

There are just ten Dirty Thread sets left in the shop. They are pretty green-heavy,  but I have other foursomes set aside to be included in cloth bundles in a wider range of colors that will be as random as I can make them. I have to keep from peeking in that basket because it gives me itchy fingers.

We are poised for change.

 

Halloween

First things first. In and out, my ballot was cast in under ten minutes.

Then on with the business of the day. 1. Find a pumpkin to carve and get some dry firewood for the firepit. Between Ace Hardware and Publix, mission accomplished.

 

We waited for Charlie to get home to carve the pumpkin. I wielded the blade, and he spooned out pumpkin guts.

We put all the guts and seeds up on the woodpile with the cosmos. Maybe a wicked pumpkin patch next year!

I have not lost my touch. Freehanded and no blood!

It was my job to sit by the campfire and hand out candy to those brave enough to cross the dark lawn and engage at a house with a ten-year reputation as a place to NOT stop on Halloween. 

While Jake, Missy and Charlie toured the neighborhood with another band of beggars, I saw fifty to sixty kids between sunset and nine.

As time passed, the tricksters got older. 

Jake doused the fire and we decamped. 

This was the first time since the boys stopped trick or treating that I participated and had a good time.