spinning the tale

 This was once snow-white. Part of a bridal trousseau. Italy, c. '30s The fact that it seems to have been never worn, creamy now with time, hints at heartbreak. 

It's made of the finest cotton lawn, delicate, yet still strong. Ankle length. Once I pulled that satin ribbon from under the spider webs of lace under the bustline, it might fit me, so she was no sylph. A woman of substance. But I won't put it on. Won't ever wear it.

Cursed? Perhaps. This would have been the last layer between the blushing bride and her husband. 

Did he leave her at the altar?

Did he die in the war?

What tragedy befell this bride?

That will be part of Angel's story.

I'm going to put this away in the closet for some time.

The tiny slip stitches securing the satin ribbon in place. I actually put this through the washing machine. The other half of the ribbon is in there somewhere. 

These two tiny buttons are all that secures the shoulders.

Elements mercy

 

Yesterday was my day off from the whine mine and I was determined to seize the day.  The candidates for transformation were already gathered up. I should have known there would be weirdness when I had to drag the container down the stairs because I couldn't lift it.  

Those containers. I got them to grow stuff in on the deck but they also make great cloth buckets. Good handles and soft sides make them easy to cram into tight spaces 

I mixed blends this time. Quick and dirty. All nine little cheese shakers topped off.

Got a large tub of soda ash ready, the new umbrella unfurled. Rolling Stones on the box in tribute to Charlie Watts, who  I always thought of as the Dad of the stones. It was hot and I was cooking. By noon there was a table full of witch camo, demon hides, and dragon skins. 

After the last scrap was dyed, I went down the steps and got straight into the water clad only in my Provence schmatte. I felt like a mermaid with the cloth swirling around me in water. I swam laps until I couldn't, drip-dried a bit, then made ready to meet up with Charlie after school. 

We hashed over the ongoing tale of Ace & Little Bea, watched some Larva, and played Twister until Jake got home with a pizza. I grabbed a slice and ran because a storm was brewing. Before I was halfway home, it was like driving in a carwash. When lightning looks a foot wide and the car shudders, you know it was close.  

Just as I pulled into my neighborhood, the street lights cut out. I came home to three cats standing around with all their hair frizzed out and eyes bugging. No power, no AC, no internet, but bless these solar lights....plenty of hot magic out on the deck getting a blessing.

Hear it?

That summer sizzle. I can still tell the difference between NY and GA cicadas. Here, they all seem to yak over one another in a hot white noise. In New York, it was more like a gospel call and response that cycled up to a frenzy. Then, when the others were taking a breath, one loud one would grab the mic and TESTIFY until the sound spun out into a shocked silence often punctuated by thunder. They knew what they were talking about.

I was hoping for a twofer with that peace sign, but the kids were skittish today. There are a pair of big bombers with five-inch wingspans patrolling the area that I have angling to charm. So far no luck. I may flinch if one of those lights on me. 
 

This arrived today. Maybe a dye fest tomorrow.  All I have to do is remember to crank it down when I'm done with it so the rain and winds don't trash it. 

amendment to that stitch

this one. I should have mentioned that it's best to use a tapestry needle when wrapping the base stitch. Little to no chance of snagging the stitch or the cloth.

I'm going back and adding a little bling here and there. Waiting on the 20x20 pillow.

I'm going to need a bigger bed.

"It's the heart afraid of breaking

that never learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking

that never takes a chance."

 

The last of the Dirty Threads (until Fall)  have been reorganized in the shop.

the dogless days

I have taken up this sampler again. I love the words and the making of it, tinkering with the letterforms as spacing and mood allows. 

If I can score a market umbrella, there will be another dye day or two this season. Fred did take out the tent. Permanently this time. 

Hurricane Fred mostly gave us a pass but for one rainy day which was overdue. And trashed my deck tent.

Summer slithers, but the shift is on. Charlie was here on Sunday. We were thrashing about in the pool when he stopped, looked around and said, "Something is burning."

Yes. I had tried to ignore it, but someone was burning leaves nearby. Fall. 

"I like it, " he said. He grows wiser. I grow older.