Except for the offer of food and an occasional hug. He prefers to be outdoors.
I have given that back to him. We work it out. The door is our connection. He has his favorite rug on the bench on the deck under the big maple. And a cozy place on the front porch. And the woods. I know in deep winter he will choose a spot by the fire. For a spell. But really this is how it is. Being born outside is different than being born inside.
I keep him healthy. But here in this neck of the woods he is OK. He stays close by, but outside. And very often I find him upside down. Purring.
I have reconnected with the inner Beast. And will be taking some quiet time to stitch through Solstice, the anniversary of Mom's passing, which now gives this shift in season, into summer, new meaning each time around. And at the same time the moon is big and strong. And it's father's day. I remember Dad, how he always advised me to remember well. It's a big shift all around. It pushes me inward for another look around.
A few days back. This one. The one that left an impression.
Because of the simple way it presents shift. How small things begin. How apparent they might become simply through quiet persistence.
But remembering what mom used to say all the time. Mostly about the quiet kids in her class. Still waters run deep. That is what she used to say. It's an old proverb of course implying that a quiet or placid manner may conceal a more passionate nature. But I always remember it. In some visual ways.
And so when I turned this over. Oh! movement. So taken with the arrangement created by the folding back I thought I might try piecing that. First I did a drawing (a drawing that will generate much more than this). Just a sketch of some of the different sections as they happened. Simplifying them as block like designs. And then of course redrawing them onto a square, that basic square size I have been using for 9 (still paperless piecing). The pieces were tiny, but I thought I'll try one, which was tedious. (Probably I'll change the scale before I do some others.) I persisted. Stitched it without contrasting thread to emphasize the thread that already ran through it.
I moved to the thread, I felt, sensed it. How the thread MOVES through it. Many deep things rose to the surface. And we have Nine for the Thread that Moves Through It*. It's all here for me. Patchwork. Nine. Line. Weave. Stitch. Thread. And how I might continue.
So, I notice again, one thing ran into another really. And I have much to mull over. And I need to collect my thoughts about the running stitch again. Time to build the page for that over at Feel Free.
And I couldn't help but notice this old puppet, hanging in between dark and light. In the corner of the loft where this computer now sits. And at least if I decide to be here during the day, I have to run up and then down the stairs to accomplish that. And now, since the Man is away, I will run the lawn mower to mulch the weeds that threaten to overtake the berry patch. It's hot out there but the sweat will do me good.
We live this way. Patching as we go. Using what's here.
Sometimes using the day to find just the right piece that might fit. Or fashioning one.
This is the sleep loft where it meets the stairs. The stairs I just painted white because I do have a lot of white paint left from something. And it makes a small room seem bigger. Photo by my boy. An early one that I have always loved because of how the distance eats the path forward.
I stitched two dyed corner patches together this morning. (dipped in Indigo twice, first clamped, then just dipped to get two tones.) I like the liquid path that formed. And the wings. I need to make more of them so I can complete a new Nine Lives Pat(c)h. I renamed the nine patch that a while ago. Nine Lives Patch. To imply the spirit contained in each one I make. The story really. Now, as a variation, I think Nine Lives Path would be a nice little series. The white linen here is still crisp and new,left over from the first linen blouse I ever made. I used to make all my clothes. I wondered why I am not doing that any more. I think it is because I am still wearing what I have. Yes. I am patching what I have. And I don't need much anyway.
Note to self:
The rectangle, the longer form, makes the Nine Patch into a Path.
It got real hot here, real fast. I let the color go for a moment.
So today we have:
A new Nine in cool linen. Nine for the Tendency to Wander. Just a play on lines, grain, off grain. Woven lines broken by seam lines. Just a simple slight shift brought movement. I concentrated to make sure that when I cut the pieces off grain, the lines would meet up and seem to continue. "Seam to continue" I was thinking. It's quite nice the way it waves. Almost curves, flows, in its illusion. And it's a path. And a kind of self portrait.
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