For the Solstice

 

Studio cleanup

 

Valiant effort yesterday. I can even see the navy blue carpet and most of the work table. 

The trouble started when I open the closet and took out the river basket. The intention was to empty my little project bag into the river basket, but both were already overflowing. So I start started weeding both out putting a good portion of each into the basket that I pick Fat Baggies from.

Then I got crazy.

 I made up a bunch of scrap bags each with two random skeins of Dirty Thread. Each mystery bag is $35 including postage in the US. Email me.

All that heavy weight linen I have, acres of it? None of it went into the scrap basket because it's not hand stitch friendly. Even after dyeing. I tested two squares and just gave up hand hemming them into kitchen towels. 

It takes the dye well. Would make good tote bags. But the plan is to break out that heavy duty Singer 99k and make a big deck sail. After the trees that loom over the pool are gone next week, it will hopefully give us some shade. I won't waste dye on it. 

storm season

 Tropical storm Claudette will be on us soon. A week of clouds and rain, some heavy they say. The plants and wildlife around here are grateful. 

From the stitching chair, there was a brief splash of sun before the cloud cover solidified.  I held this piece of cotton up to the light and did my best to capture what my eye was seeing.

Some times there are pieces that you cannot cut, use, give away, or sell. This is one. 

I was folding and putting away all the cloth that's come of the latest dye sessions. Taking some time to make some order here in the studio and life in general. 

The store will be closed for a summer vacation. 

Writing and family stuff taking precedence for a while. One thing I've learned, cloth and thread are patient.

 

Things got 💙plum💙 out of hand on the dye deck yesterday. 

I remembered the unpredictable fun of discharging freshly dyed cloth. The great Put & Take.

Tomorrow is shipping day so if you ordered recently, some of this will be in the bag.

Meanwhile, Charlie has mastered the art of dragonfly taming. They love him.

Drifting through time

 

Killing time is a hideous expression. I've always thought about not having enough time. And the people who ran out of time when they thought they had more. 

 There was a bit of waiting for time to pass today, but I can't bear the thought of time passing without something coming of it -  something being done, made, created.

I've been sick for a solid week with an ornery cold that wanders between my head and chest depending on nothing. I have been cranky and anxious. But walking around stoned all day on a string of the most luxurious, cinematic dreams

compensating for the day-long sigh heaving.

While waiting for the medicine to kick in this morning, I mixed colors because it was easier than making coffee. Had two satisfactory appointments with contractors before 10. Landscaping and gutters scored. 

Transformed more  of that vintage cloth on the deck while waiting until it was time for my Covid test. Watched parts of that old movie waiting for the results (negative) and the dye to strike (positive). What else is there so easy to discover these days? And for free.

Just finished committing this latest piece to a canvas, every stroke telling me that I've made a mistake, but I know better. I also know what I'm procrastinating about, of course.

abundance

Another 30 pound box of vintage cloth arrived yesterday. Our mail lady (who might weigh a hundred pounds) was grateful that Colin met her up at the street. It was pouring rain. He had all he could do to hold the package and an umbrella.

I used to think I had a pretty sharp eye when it came to cloth. Silly me. I spent too much time with my nose in the air only consorting with fine vintage damasks. 

I have little to no experience with what might be called "common" cloth. The everyday stuff that people used to make their own clothes and household linens with back before store-bought was anyone's first option. 

The yellow is an almost lawn weight, yarn dyed cotton. The yard I have is pristine and I'm told there is a rainbow and yards still to be had because I told my source "no colors". I'm so glad he didn't listen. I may go back into the Fling business, this cloth is so nice.

The creamy cloth at the bottom is so intriguing. My first impression was a silk noil, but not as nubby and more tightly woven. Loomed at only 28" wide, it's a service weight linen, possibly flax. I left the picture large, so zoom in and tell me what you think. I have maybe fifty yards of this cloth. I'm going to do a burn test later, just to see what I can learn. Then dye a square of it. See how it likes color. 

It's heavy enough that I can see people using it whole as a base. I'm thinking flags, banners, even waxed floor cloths. 

Meanwhile, almost all of the cloth in the previous post has gone into the scrap basket and is available. It's been some time since the basket has hosted such a vibrant and varied batch of cloth. Nothing takes dye like vintage fabrics. 

 

All Aces

 

Updated. Tomorrow is ship day. If you've ordered Fat Baggies of Scrap, some of this lot will be coming along for the ride!

10ish. Rain is bumping on the roof, the Night Jazz channel on the TV is murmuring, cats and a child snoring beside me. 

As this day started at dark o'clock, I'm done. Enjoy.

Wheels redux

 

One more time, Jake has revived Jim's pickup. A major engine rebuild this time. Here's hoping we can wring another 100k mile out of it. It still has to be driven a bit, then pass emissions, then update the registration. All doable tasks, one at a time. 

I'm sure the neighbors are glad to see it put back together instead of up on jacks with its guts strewn about the driveway.

There's nothing like getting drunk on fragrance with my morning coffee. 

And this valiant little sunflower popping up in the middle of the venerable mother lavender. Only three feet tall and grinning at us already.

                    My small flower beds are coming on strong and summer has just begun. 

Of course, the water is still too cold for these old bones and the pump is having a small fit for itself. Issues. I know I'm going to hate it after the landscapers scalp away all that greenery, but it has to happen. That's poison ivy hanging over the back edge of the water.  I went to the grocery store for apples and came home with pool noodles.

It was a grand day

 

Forty-five years ago we threw a party in the backyard, invited all our friends and family and a judge.

It was a day just like today and it still feels like yesterday.

those cloth envelopes

It's going to take more digging. I was all on board with the idea that these were intended to protect silk stockings and other delicates, 

but, on closer examination, each has a different monogram. 

I can't even make out what the letters are, the font is so elaborate. Any guesses.

The camera has brightened reality. They are yellowed a bit. I'm sure never used for whatever intended purpose.

 The stitches that join the sides together are so very tiny.

She made the nuns proud, I'm sure.

Aged and spiced

 

I got mine. Posed here on some of that Sicilian trousseau. The same dimensions as a modern business-sized envelope, I wonder what these pockets were intended for? Wedding cash?

There was a breeze in the night and this lot of loose loops was flipped off the table down to the dirt and detritus below the deck. I'm not the least bit pained.

But don't look for a repeat of this as a technique. I had to wash slug slime off the top one! God only knows what crawled over them or tasted them in the night.

I was looking for another set of stone and sand colors. Instead, I got dark deeds, old cemetery flowers, magic, and fading hope. 

The cousins are here.

Homage

 I'm so honored to have my raw materials used by Liz in honor of Eric Carle and Lois Ehlert. 

Her little caterpillar makes my heart ache.

water life

 

He makes it So.

A smooth and gentle Friday

 

One of these days I'll have a phone that will see what I see in the dark. The moon was setting through the trees and the sky was still dark. A shift in temperature had caused all the night speakers to go quiet. I was off to get Charlie. 

It was a big day for House Lacativa. 

A lawyer came to the house and I put my pawprint on a lot of paper to finalize the refinance of the mortgage. Imagine a closing taking all of ten minutes! The interest rate is half of what I was paying before and I took some equity out for some much-needed and long delayed repairs. Now to start lining up legit contractors for the stuff Colin can't do himself. 

Charlie wanted to know why the Businessman (he had a briefcase) did not wear a black robe. A long conversation ensued about judges, courts, etc. It's always word domino with him and I love it. 

No school and no organized daycare this week, but that's okay. As of next week, we'll keep company only on Wednesdays. Perhaps more as things shift for me, workwise.

A fan of Waffle (Awful) House, he gave in to my suggestion of someplace a step up to celebrate the end of school. We both struggled to get the word "croissant" out of our mouths with the proper accent, but he had no problem fitting one into his mouth.

For those who have been enjoying the Briscoe Field sunsets that Colin shoots almost nightly, this will be among the last for a while. His shift is changing to the overnight, so we'll see what magic he works with sunrises in the days ahead.

The shocking passage of time

 

It's been four or five years since I bought this gardenia. It was an Easter leftover and marked down for Death when I rescued it from the grocery store.  It was only two feet tall and half of that pot.

The peonies had finished their annual show and I put it in the ground between them, a foot or so behind the mailbox. Gave it a good watering and told it "Good Luck." Last year it was July before it surprised me with a couple flowers. 

We haven't had a drop of rain in over three weeks and for the first time, the gardenia is covered with buds. Colin has been carrying five-gallon jugs of water up there for me. I'm afraid if I don't give it and the struggling butterfly bush water, the buds will just fall off. 

It's time to invest in a few hoses. 

The back deck garden is taking off. Not wasting my time on peppers or tomatoes this year. Something took bites out of everything that grew last year. Flowers and herbs are enough. 

Here's that rascal Petaluma, portulaca, proscuitto, pontificator............PURSLANE and her potmate Lanata, discussing the eggshells and coffee grounds that I was too lazy to spade under the dirt. 

Caving in to bad judgement, I'm working on a new piece of witchery, I mean, stitchery. If nothing else crosses my mind for an hour these days, I consider myself fortunate. 

Somewhere I read about a Bring Sleep mantra used by soldiers who must sleep when they can, no time to waste. Slow your breathing and think "Don't think....don't think......don't think." It works for me.

The first batch of cloth from the Sicilian Trousseau batch of cloth has already gone into the scrap mix.

If you ordered anything in the last ten days, I went to the post office yesterday. The two-foot-long receipt listed Saturday as arrival for all of the packages no matter where they were headed. Thank you all for supporting my madness.

Today is the last day of first grade. Celebrated yesterday with a summer haircut.