first day of fall

The first gray day in ages lent itself to indoor stuff. The studio even got (mostly) cleaned. Seeing half the work table, all of the birthday chair and 95% of the carpet...that's lots. Other things got done.

Still up there in my banner,  Revisions has a sleeve and will probably be on a plane in a few days.

My sampler finally became a proper pillow. I found one of the

mates to the cotton dinner napkin I worked it on. Nicely dyed, of course. I think there were originally six of these and I need to track the rest down (somewhere in the cloth closet) they are a strong, dense woven cotton. Soft, forgiving, yet strong and serviceable. I was just telling someone that embroidering text requires unwavering focus, at least for me. There is no walking and chewing gum if you want to come anywhere close to Heather Cameron's excellence.

you can even see my 'maker's mark' discharged on the backside of the pillow.
The cloth has a wonderful hand, grainy. Some kind of warm, old skin, tough, durable and loving.

I also did a small batch of dyed thread on the kitchen table. I really thought the "B" on the container was for brown. I needed blue too. Sone of these will be over on Dirty Threads after I make my stash bigger.

If you ordered over the weekend, your thread will be on a plane by tonight. Unless the USPS has returned to camels and ponies.

summer's end

We went out early this morning to see where the birds are hiding. There's a big clay dish full of water up there in the grove for them.

Normally the front yard is full of birds busy snatching breakfast out of the grass. For many days there have been none. Creepy scary none. After so long without rain, the ground is hard as a rock.

But there were birds. All we had to do was look up. The canopy was alive with them.

After we went inside I saw a few of them taking a bath in the drinking water. Salut!

It's gone from the mid-nineties to mid-sixties overnight. Rain soon we all hope.

the Mabons get blessed

A change-up

This day turned out differently than planned. Charlie caught a bad nugget or fry and needed a day off from school. We took the sunshine-in-the-park cure once his tummy settled.

Later, I picked up my day where my imagination left it. This pool closes October 1. You'll know where to find me.

...

blurred borders

Thank Jude for reminding me that the work of my hands can have a point, a purpose beyond busywork or something to soothe the eye.

Mabon is upon us and yet Summer waddles on here reminding me every day of the precariousness of life on this Big Blue Marble. Feels like August in the daytime and late September after dark. Confusing.
Unsettling.
 Like having a foot in each world.

















The morning report from Brisco Airfield.

and just a few minutes later.....

Post psychedelia

This image is to remind me that I'll be happy after the chaos of remodeling the kitchen has passed and we haven't even started yet. I did catch a rat in one of those old-fashioned traps last night. I am certain Death was instantaneous. The kitchen upheaval is their fault and they will pay.

Be assured. This is not TV style remodeling. It's gonna be 'rip out the old and live with the mess for months' stuff. As we can manage.

Feeling hungover this morning for no real reason, unless red potato salad made with Bermuda onions has such properties.
Overnight temps in the 60s out of the blue contributed to deep sleep with bottomless dreams. I woke up not sure of the year for a long string of heartbeats. Not lost, but poised to choose.
Contributing to this time traveler feeling- scanning new photos from Mom's stash.
I love the way some Polaroids eat themselves while others just spin away to mist. 1971.

the midweek peach

First, we do a quick selfie to check in with Mom and Dad, letting them know I've retrieved Charlie from after school care.

Then we decide what the adventure for the rest of the afternoon will be. Today's first stop, the car wash. Endlessly entertaining for a five-year-old to have the car swallowed into the swishing belly of the sudsy beast complete with a light show and our own rock and roll.

The whole back seat of my car is awash with various forms of entertainment. A small basket overflowing with little toys, books, compass, magic wand. Over the summer I stocked it with a couple of spare blank notebooks and a set of markers which he ignored.

The first thing he did after clicking his own seatbelt (another first! "I got this, Nana.") was open up the notebook and break out the markers for the first time. I asked what he was writing. "I like the numbers the best, but there's an A." Not bad for writing in a moving car.

Once finally home, I was warmly received and righteously worn out. A great day.

The Night Garden

Nothing left but the dirty work. Truing, backing, picking cat hair and lint.

Some decent photographs. Maybe a little peddling somewhere.

Bringing this one to life, to reality, was a challenge.

It should finish out at 35"x22". I don't have anything suitable that's large enough for the backing so I'll do some scrounging this weekend.

Then, the river basket and the toolbox have to go in the closet for a bit while I get this story off the runway. Time to get the other side of my brain back in the game.

Sweetie

For a little while, she was on the front stoop watching our resident red shouldered hawk working the chipmunks.

She just rushed in here to take over my lap - stitching be damned. Lately, she's been anxious. Coyotes in the street before dawn. Me too.

Caught between

Summer and fall.

Writing and editing.

Less and more.




She drew the two of swords and knew it didn't matter then. Right or left. Sooner or later, there would be bloodshed. The only question was whose.

Old Wheels keep turning.

We are all grateful to see the backside if this weekend that started in the wee hours, Friday night. In the first rainstorm that we've had in weeks, the pickup croaked and had to be towed home the next morning.

The Honda had languished for about a month due to its lack of AC. As payback for the neglect, it decided to puke up its radiator the very next day.

I would rather have an ace mechanic in the family than a doctor. Doctors are not supposed to treat their own family members. I don't know what we would have done without Jake's skills and patience.  The car is running, the truck will be in a few days.

this is my Saturday

Some of you may know that I work the day(night) job every weekend, so your Tuesday is my Saturday. This puts me at odds with the world sometimes, but most times, I can do what I please with plenty of breathing space around me.

Filling a thread order this morning I couldn't imagine how I let this one get away! Just the amount and intensity of chaos that usually grabs my attention. Somebody beat me to it!

Good music, errands, and stuff, beautiful things, and later, a date with the Gooby. There might be pictures.

 

stopping, or not

I always struggle with when to stop, especially when I'm working down at the one or two-thread level of embroidery.

 Choosing to place a needle to the right or the left of a single thread, it's easy to lose sight of the whole.

Step back, feet away and see if it feels done. Is the story complete?

So goes the book editing. What looked like just the right word yesterday, grates on my nerves today.

Resolving to NOT, keep second (third, fourth) guessing myself. Trusting that 99% of those first words came from a well-informed place. I'm off to the wet office with a fistful of pages to chew on.

Things are thinning out over at Dirty Threads. As long as summer seems to be holding on, I'm prepping for one more batch. Blues, roses, brown and greens....what else? Let me know.

no Dorian

Don't be fooled. That Caribbean tinge means I didn't spend enough time working the long-handled scrubber around the floor today. The later into the season, the more work, but I'll take every day Summer has left for me.

I've been sleeping badly since coming home. Disjointed, post-apocalyptic dreams that never go anywhere but in anxious circles.

Thinking too much about the wrong
things. Have some images instead.

and back

It was a great trip, fun and relaxing because my people all went above and beyond for my comfort and safety.

But it's always good to get home. Back to the things I like doing, the stuff that needs doing. I didn't get much stitching done as I'm getting pretty fussy about lighting and, as bright as it was at the beach, it was really too damn hot! The TSA didn't nab my scissors, so, it's all good.

I cleaned up the work table and finally am releasing some of the last dyed threads into the wild. My personal stash is overflowing and if I look at these one more time....

The quest was for greens. A lot of gold crept in. The Rubies and the Amethysts are too dark with little variation, but it's not like I'm going to throw them away. There are a lot of plain crazy players too. You can see them all here.

I was missed.

away

the Casino Girls terrorizing Foxwoods. Except for feeding ourselves so generously, we (for the most part) broke even.
I don't know where my beach pictures evaporated to, but the day was perfect.

It was a treat to spend a little time with the nephews that I don't often get to see.

Two charming and delightful small humans.








Every room in the house has art or quilts I've made. This was my mother's lap quilt in the nursing home. She dragged it around with her everywhere. I slept under it for a few nights.

Ocean work

homefires

Someone is wise to the fact that I'm heading out of town. Right after this, I had to pull her out of my half-packed suitcase.

She's going to need some extra coddling while I'm away.

Paying attention

For about a month, we’ve been trying to find a home for a fiberglass truck cap that’s been hanging around outside since, oh, 2001, leaning up against the house, lending that Tobacco Road charm to the place. The truck it came with died and the hope was to transfer it to a replacement vehicle. We paid nearly 300$ to replace the large rear window on the cap, not a week before fatal transmission failure made that expense moot. I’ve had it on various websites under FREE and CURB ALERT. So far, no takers and the weeds are getting tall around it. Good thing we have no HOA here.

I’ve told a couple of people that Jim’s been close these days. Yesterday proved it for me. 

I lolled about in a housedress until nearly noon, doing as I pleased. Something, someone said, “Get your shit together and go get the things you forgot at the store yesterday. Like deodorant, laundry detergent and a hairbrush. The basics of civilization will escape me from time to time.

I dressed with whatever was lying around that was not befrigged with cat cooties, pulled on the non-favorite sandals instead of hunting down the beloveds. Rather than wait for the AC, I opened the roof and windows wide and headed out. Timing was everthing.

I had to wait for a few cars to go by before I could pull out of the community. When I did, I fell in behind a small pickup, black, older. As I got closer I could read that it was a GMC Sonoma, same model, and color as Jim’s. They are very plain so there was no telling the year.

We sat and waited at the train crossing for a freight train to rattle through. Twenty-some cars instead of the usual eighty or ninety and I debated jumping out of my car and running up to speak to the driver. “Hey, mister, does this old truck need a matching cap?’ The gate came up and traffic moved out. I resolved that if he made a right in the direction of the grocery store, I’d follow and engage.

 Just before the intersection, he made a hard, unsignalled right into a different shopping center and parked. I followed. I was committed. Or should be.

He wasn’t an armed madman. A younger Dave Grohl type – dark, hairy and grubby, but I’m sure I gave him pause when I blocked him in, rolled down my window and asked what year his truck was. 1998, just like ours. What were the odds? I felt like Jimmy was in the passenger seat laughing and had to laugh myself.

So I told the kid about the cap, offered it up for free and gave him the address where he could look it over and help himself, or not. He was non-committal, probably relieved I wasn’t the Law.

I tried.

I'll let you know.

It's 5:00pm Sunday. Sad to say, it's still up there. 
Guess he decided he didn't need to accessorize.

PS...Craigslist is dead. Long live Facebook Marketplace. The same day as I decided the cap would be headed for the dump, I listed it on FB marketplace. In an hour I had six people interested. Inside another, two nice men with a small truck came, fitted it to said truck and spirited it away to a life of continued service. I'm so happy. They even scrawled a thankyou on the FREE sign. 

Sun chasing

Shifting around in the chair, reaching for the light as the sun gets about his daily transit.

The strong light sifts through the limbs and leaves of the water oak in fits and starts forcing me to pay attention.

lost treasures

Dug up from the back of a drawer. The whole crew of elders, my bowlegged groom, that Beast, me and my crew. I was keeping a grip on Shag (Jim's dog) so he wouldn't put his nose up under my dress, his favorite pastime, aside from knocking me down and nipping at me to confirm his dominance. I think my Dad was standing on a tree root, but my Grandma in her floral glory was nearly the tallest chick at the party. Bless her genes.

secret messages

"He watched as she stalked a wide, slow circle that took her all the way around the car. She was wearing something short and black. Magic again? Without taking his eyes off her, he took off his St. Christopher and hung it from the rearview. Gripping the steering wheel, he leaned forward, mesmerized.

She stopped a few paces in front of the car. Her hands reached for the stars, then she crouched low and brushed the wet grass with her fingertips. No candles, no incense. Then she spoke into the darkness like it was listening.

Hear me sisters, Fire, Wind, Water and Earth, in all your names and guises.

Light the watchtowers for us. Hold back the night.

I ask cover from all quarters.

Bless us this circle and we within."

He’d covered the cracked plastic upholstery with a plaid flannel blanket. Like a bird on a wire, she perched on the edge of the seat. He reached under the dash, a motor whirred, and the patched convertible top lifted slowly, folding back on itself.

“You got it fixed!” The sky was clear, full of stars, and cooler, less humid air washed over them. They were in some kind of clearing; the grass manicured. “Where are we?”

“A golf course.” Jack looked around, pleased with his choice. “Listen. When I called before, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. To talk, you know?”

He was about to light a joint, but she took it from him and tucked it into the ashtray, then put her fingertips on his lips. She couldn’t say ‘fuck’ and wouldn’t say ‘make love’. He sucked her fingers into his mouth, then they stripped each other out of their clothes. The confines of the front seat of the Skylark was nothing to two people hell-bent on taking up the same space.

"Prophets Tango"  by Deborah Lacativa 2021

good night

embarrassment of riches

This is a deep basket!

I'm going to be putting these up in sets of four and six. Curating is the fun part. I'll post them to the Dirty Threads page as time permits.

If you have any colorway requests, email me.

Now all I have to do is keep my hand out of the candy jar.

building the moon

 A very old piece of damask that had been dyed, discharged and coveted for years convinced me that, no, the moon doesn't have to be a perfect circle.


How it looks is all in where you are standing the moment you look up. I have some silver and gold metallic threads, but I'm going to hold off on those until the very last minute.

Being mindful that the moon casts no light of its own. It can only reflect.

Night garden at sunrise

The better to actually see what I'm doing.
There's going to be a lot going on in this sky. A lot of handling, moving the hoops around.

To protect the central gardens, I've rolled the bottom two-thirds of the piece up and stitched the roll in place for a while. Hope I don't lose sight while I work in the clouds.

It's easy enough to do, no matter what medium you work in.

While I'm stitching,  I'm thinking through issues my incredible beta reader has pointed out. Places in my writing where I've obsessed over the right word, forgetting the purpose of the passage.

I've done that with stitching too many times to think about.

When it gets down to agonizing over spearing the warp or the weft, I need to put the work down and take a break. It's Friday after all.

Satisfaction

There it is, J. Those greens I've been casting for.

I've always been a sucker for jewel tones. Who isn't.

This lot was outside drying on the picnic table while I was a half-hour away heading into this. A second rinse wouldn't have been terrible, but now I can get back to the Garden.