Resolute in a way, about going, not just going, but almost marching.
I did a bit of Snowman Storming. Not on paper. But with bits of cloth. here are 9 of them. I let my mind wander. What a simple thing. Child's Play. I think about simple things. Snowman. What a great exercise in Building. Balance. Alignment. And now Diversity. I think it is surely worth the time taken. To consider the Snowman Snow Being. At any age.
So here there are 9 stray snow beings. Which one would you start with?
Feel Free will be moving to a website for better support of media. And community. Once I figure it all out, Loose Pages (the journal) and Spirit Cloth Language (the personal dictionary) will be added to the mix.
Thank you all for your kind support in this past year. Dream catching. Yes we can.
And the last of the home gown indigo. Because the deer ate the last clump. Before it bloomed. No seeds. They ate the daisies too. Before they opened. That's it. The last garden. The planted kind.
I'm not exhausted, just Tired. Tired of dark days. But let's not dwell on that. Mom's words, don't dwell on that.
Ok. I noticed again the seasonal deck shibori. I closed my eyes and said across moons quietly to myself.
Consider how one thing becomes another.
And so with the last dips, that always work themselves more towards turquoise, I began to consider how one thing might become another. The indigo over rust. Moonish, but a bit like a world. And then I thought about worlds apart. Focused on the space between worlds. But then the line emerged on the fold that seemed to highlight the in between. And then, all the while trying to engineer a blurred edge. To soften the difference between what is and what isn't which always encourages what might become...I returned to some old considering of wings, how becoming is about living in between. Embracing not this or that but reaching outward in all directions blurring the edges of that and just going.
On thing might become another if there is enough time.
Vibrating outward is life.
SunMoonStars is a home base for witnessing change.
If we have enough time will SunMoonStars become anything. Everything?
Is focus really limited to itself, or just an anchor to the that which moves through us?
Can focus add the not just going to the just going. Intention?
Here. I like that the stitch seems to hold such intention. Running walking straight through it. Standing there.
Acorn found. Acorns dropping. Time to begin gathering. I make ink, and use the tannin rich bath for dyeing. I did a bit of stitching here. To build that cross from Nine. Part of my Nine Forever/Crossroads and how it implies endless expansion of center. And the balance in that. But that is way too deep for today. Today is a be outside day.
This one has been hanging around for a while.
I want to say that I look at it and I think the moon made her blush. And eventually she will find her new face. A stray might have many faces, but they are all who she is. At the moment.
He was here. Somewhere in Maine. (photo by the woman) He's been working so hard. It is good to see the "away" smile.
Today. Here. It's a quiet day.
Technology has been tamed. The shop is ok. It'll just be there, when I need it. No more time thinking about that. Nope. Just for the record, I do not take reservations or commissions or money up front. It is not a business and I am just going. Not planning where really. I don't want to think about it that much. I think, after thinking too much yesterday, that my work has evolved into the freedom from that and that's why I love it. Take my advice, it is better that way.
And so, as I am UnRolling things here, they are like reminders.
Heat index of 106 today. That is not good coupled with the unbearably high humidity. And days and days of it to come.
Not much more than that going on. Except the fan.
The rambutan (new at the market and obviously not local) rinds gave up some color overnight. Just to see. Ok.
A little stitching with sweaty fingers. Nine seems to be vaporizing. Along with my ability to hold a needle.
Because I am back to this. This time I cannot even hold a pencil. We all have that something to keep us grateful for everything else. This will be mine. The arthritis is managed with diet and exercise. It is always there to remind me. Things get out of balance easily. Of course housework is also out of the picture at the moment. That's a plus. Floating. We'll float. You with me? A slow flow. Flowing rhymes with going. .
Here he is with his I'm not sure about you posture.
Things are green and lush here. Yet they don't seem right. The garden looks great. Smells great. But I feel uneasy. Fruit and vegetables hang so heavy they pull the branches to the ground. Yet don't ripen. As if in defiance. And I feel out of sync with it all. Helpless and Strange. I can't help thinking maybe, yes, it IS time for me to leave. Leave it be.
I made this pillow years ago. Before the blog. The Secret Garden Pillow. I posted a pic over on Instagram the the day. There was question about how I made this one. I think, since it was so long ago, I will simply make another. I can't help but imagine how different it might turn out. But I might get to show you a lot of the process it holds. It really was a sampler of things to come.
There really needs to ne a stray in there.
I have some stuff to finish up so I think it will be my August project. Maybe it might be a "stitch-a-long"? Secret Garden 2. Aka The Last Garden. Sometimes I name thoughts before they materialize. Because the dream is caught so easily. What would you name yours?
After huge night rain. Before the blistering heat to come.
Only one sunflower this year. A small one that grew up beneath a tangle, escaped the bird snack attack. Sunflower sprouts are a favorite. Since we keep the hill by the garden clear and cut, there are so many more visiting birds. The raspberries were gone in a flash. But that's OK. Birds are nice. And we are not starving.
She's become a path. A full summer gal. I added some bits of silk. (silk is so thin and works so well in layering) Playing with the new compositional element of splitting components. Off the edge and back again. A moving through thing. And the idea of being caught, even held safe by that. I'll be on paper today doing some off the edge and back again storming. I have some more to say about that.