the storm that didn't arrive

All morning it looked like the sky would break open. Hot, thickly humid. There was no going outside for anything. I've been plagued by chaos lately, internal and external, so I did what was at hand - a long overdue purge and cleanup in the studio. Even half-finished, I feel a lot better.

During the rout of un-named boxes of unknown crap, I found a collection of hankies and other tiny, hand embellished things from an era before Kleenex. Into the pre-dye secret sauce, they went. I had a full set of threads prepped and ready for color.

An hour outside on the deck and the additional secret ingredient was my sweat. Everything is in the washing machine right now. If the finished products don't hold up to these wet shots, I'll delete them...the heartbreak of wet photography is real.

And Joanne...look at that little linen blouse. I could kill the woman for being so tiny!

down on the farm

That is Charlie's grampa, Papa Doc. He does blacksmithing demonstrations at various venues including nearby McDaniel farm park. We visited with him a bit then toured the park on a hayride and spent time at an amazing new playground. Thank the weather gods for cloud cover.

The parks department has restored and maintained the farmhouse and outbuildings as a typical 1930's working farm. There was a table set up where someone would be giving a talk and demonstration about cotton. No one was around to answer our silly questions as it was early.

That shred of raw cotton in the right foreground got picked up by inquisitive fingers and dropped on the ground, from there to my pocket.

Once I got home, I examined the bit of fluff. I picked out all the bits of dry leaves. pesky business. There was almost a dozen of those little hard beans stuck in the fiber. I'm assuming they are cotton seeds and I'm going to see what I can find out about growing them.

Maybe I will spin the cotton into thread too. Obsessive. I know. There will be dye.

creature comforts

Please tell me I saw this post when it was new and made all the proper, civilized responses. I love what Ann does with my cloth.

I rewashed all the waiters this morning. Sweetie had been nesting in them with her "friends". Said friends are being evicted in a mighty battle. Anyone with pets knows what the hell I'm talking about. Clean cloth stowed tightly in the closet until it's time for more dyes.

Studio archaeology

Small scrap from the tubs. Color by Sharpie & alcohol.

Remains of the day

This is what's left of round three. I'm going to have to make this a semi-monthly thing. Have more on hand when I put them up for sale. This is all that's left of round 3.

From round 2, every wish granted, every order shipped. Most have landed.

I need to get back to the story - there is no such thing as writer's block in this house. Not permitted.