Love

 

Putting special pieces of cloth to work this way is easy. Just tuck them in. I tried some random stitching on one and immediately picked it all out.  Anything beyond the color and the weave was just distraction.

Colin and Jake don't often work together. Just hearing them outside muttering and puttering warms my heart.

Even as I struggle to get the next book some legs, I have to do marketing stuff for the first three. In case you wondered what it was all about, the e-version of this one is free this week, just click on the link in the sidebar. Read the blurb, read the reviews and if it's your cup of tea, you're welcome, but be ready to shell out for two & three for the whole story as Prophets Tango is a serial.

Mending

 

Nothing to stitch on, but Bailey is recuperating from an infected bite wound to a toe. "Through and through," the vet said. Giving him 2ml of amoxicillin twice a day is exhausting and dangerous. 

Dangerous in that it all doesn't always get into his mouth and Jake is deathly allergic to any splashes or spills. I have to do this alone so it's easiest to hold Bailey down with a towel caped tight around him. He seemed calm and receptive this morning so I neglected that important step. Now I have to strip my bed and wash both quilts and the pillowcases. 

We've had two overnight near-freezes so I've brought all the tropicals inside. This Mandevilla flourished all summer in an outside planter with a geranium and a hollyhock that grew from a seed. All three of them are sharing a fiber planter in the living room. It would be nice to get them through the winter alive.

We continue to soak up warm afternoons outdoors despite both of us having lingering colds.  I feel like we got off cheap, two of my sibs in NY are struggling with covid. Virgins no more, one vaxed, one not, but both finding firsthand that it's no picnic. I hate being so far away at times like this. 

                            The changes in the air here are palpable. All good things. 

The Experience

 

Here we are, House Lacativa at Queen Something-or-others castle not a hot fifteen minutes from ours. 

 

In all the years we've lived so close, we never went to Medieval Times. 

Even though the date of the show fell on my birthday, this Experience was for Charlie's birthday. I told him back in August when he turned eight, no more toys or things as presents. Experiences only.

I was deeply relieved to hear him say that he's always wanted to do this. We had ringside seats. It was easy to suspend disbelief and cynicism in favor of admiring the bogus pageantry and the players' skill, two and four-footed. At one point in the show, her Majesty's falconer brought out a raptor - too large to be a falcon - and launched it free. It swept over our heads so close you could feel the breeze of his passing. It was thrilling. 

There are just a few pictures. Amazingly, very few people looked at their phones. All eyes were on the show.

A fine time was had by all. Memories made.

See a heartful

 

What became of eight years? Sweet life!

A weekly

 

This was taken from the front lawn, just looking straight up through the big water oak. Here the leaves just brown off almost overnight and rain down. We don't rake them, they are too small. A few passes with the lawn mower will take care of them.

Charlie's school has a fall break. Just a few days, but they've been glorious. We've been to two of his two favorite parks and gone in a lot of circles now that he's discovered Balance. Next comes the bike. 

I've had a productive visit with the ortho doc. Procedures planned. Drugs doled out. Referrals for the dreaded physical therapy in play. I have to correct my thinking around that kind of work if I ever want to walk properly again. 

And I will. I need to if I ever want to get the next book up and running. I've tried to do things differently this time and plotting from a chair is NOT working. I need to be on my feet and write on the fly. That's where the stories spin from. Where the joy lives

I have a few pieces of cloth that will never be cut or stitched. They each remind me of how much serendipity matters. 

Bailey, Mr. B., aka Killah, gave me a few sleepless nights with something that made him growly and sullen. I hoped he only smoked the wrong sort of lizard or licked the wrong toad.

 I gave him 24 of self-care, cat style, before promising a trip to the vet. He did what he needed - sleep and fasting - and has come out the other side well, his feral highness restored.

At this time of year, there's no better place to catch up on missed sleep than to catch a nap in my car at the bus stop.

Milestone. I transcribed an inch-high stack of index cards into the computer today. 

my turn to catch up

 

I was going to do a time-lapse or speeded-up video of this process, but really, there's not much action. Just me making choices on the fly. 

I have a square yard of linen toweling that I hand hemmed on all four sides. It has just enough texture to grab and hold like a felt board.

I fold the linen base in half because my working surface is small. I take pieces of cloth from the big bin and lay them out on the linen like this, rolling the base up as needed. Then I take all the pieces off, stack them tidy and repeat the process to get a full yard of scraps.

A quartet of threads is selected to tuck inside the cloth. 

MB, these will be on their way to you tomorrow.

Grateful to be missed

 

Once again I'm trying to make friends with the seed stitch.  This was just a little something to hold on to and fiddle with while listening to the storm news. 

I've already taken the snips to it once - the red patch was stitched to the wrong side of the purple base at first. 

Now that it's clear we won't miss a sunny day to Ian, I'm going to set it aside before I do any more damage. No heart in it. Saving that for the page.

I have a busy schedule coming up in October. Accepting invitations and obligations as they come without worrying about a work schedule is fun even if the first thing I do each morning is check to see what day of the week it is.

The beasts were acting up a little. Lots of murdering going on what with the chilly nights reminding them about stocking up for winter. I pull into the driveway and before I can turn the car off, Bailey jumps through the window for his afternoon portion of love. It's always nice to remember that they have no worries, just goals to be grabbed, moment to moment. 

~serenity~

Summer's shadow

We don't get too many sunrises around here, but Colin did a double shift and grabbed this one. The beautiful weather persisted and belied the sailor's warning. 

The mailbox garden is set up to bless our senses with gardenias and butterfly bush blooms until we have some hard frost.

Christmas gardenias will always be magical for this Yankee gal.

Everyone who ordered bundles should be getting them by Friday. While I was making them up, I pulled some drama to keep in the River basket until I'm moved to thread a needle. I've made a mess of fancy damask in the past so I'm going to let them ripen in the closet. 

It's the Autumnal Equinox. I savor it one day at a time because I grew up in the Hudson Vallery with a short, capricious fall.  My birthday is smack in the middle of October. On some birthdays, I could still go swimming in the lake. Other years, frost crackled underfoot making sneakers treacherous.

Summer looks back on herself and smiles at the miracles she's wrought. Bright wings. Water in the air. Bounty.

Fall puts his arm around her, pulls her close, and whispers,

"Hang with me a while. You won't regret it."

The cure

It's day four of this malady that a second test said is NOT covid, but I have my theory.

My body, equipped with vaccinations and booster, recognizes this invader and deals with it, but imperfectly.  The Rona symptoms (respiratory struggle, no sense of smell) come and go within hours. In between, it manifests as a five-alarm head cold.

Nothing for it but to sit out in the fresh air and sunshine and hand wash chunks of cloth. And nap when needed. 

Washing soda ash solution and excess dye out of cotton damask is labor intensive but tactilely satisfying. 

On the first pass, an orange-sized ball of cloth feels slimy and will jump out of your hands and splat color on your bare feet.

 Add just a drop of Dawn to the second pass and trouble doubles. The damask weave and the density of the fiber whip the detergent into foam.  

A hot water pass calms everything down and soothes my paws. Back to cold water for the final two or three passes to make sure the water runs clear. 

Then I snap them out and hang them over whatever; lawn chairs, railings, the old thyme and lavender shrubs (you may smell them.)

Then, the next day I found that a lot of these had dried to a pale mess so I set up for overdyeing. What caused the color loss? Old dye? Not enough time in the soda ash? There's no telling. 

 Washing these out today and then most of it will get blended into the Hot Scraps inventory. 

Next gen art

 I was sick enough this morning to cause me to take a covid test. Counting on that negative to be fact because I have stuff to do.

Charlie's school had a digital learning day today. As if all of the second grade wasn't enough. Five hours in a semi-darkened room at the laptop. Fifteen-minute assignments drag on past an hour because he hunts and pecks. 

The worst out of the way, I found a Learn To Type for Kids game and left him to it. He's delighted that his fingers have brains. What bothers me is that he'll never learn cursive. I will teach him his signature. With my favorite fountain pen. Eventually.

It was really fine out today. After the traditional lunch trip to Sonic, we hatched out the dirty threads. The Cassiels.  The reluctant angel from Wings of Desire. 

They were pretty murky looking at first. The carrying cloths all circles and stripes. 

Hopefully dry by this time tomorrow.