Wednesday, November 30, 2022


 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.

Monday, November 28, 2022


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. 


Wednesday, November 16, 2022

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. 


Saturday, November 05, 2022

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.

Friday, November 04, 2022


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.


Thursday, November 03, 2022


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.