Spirit Cloth

How age might transform us

 

 

Mom has taken on the appearance of an old tree.  Old trees are quite beautiful in their own right.  After weathering many storms.  For Mother's Day I am going to patch the big hole in her old quilt. With scraps of self.

inside (the) Wind (robe)

Tossed.  During the process of reinforcing.  I enjoy the truth in things like this.   She said to herself. 

And in this moment I also like the sense of order and change that  coexists.

Again

A winter  storm watch they say.    Maybe I will continue with this eye of the storm cloth.   A place to hide, anticipate and record with thread and needle.   This one  has been through many a storm.  A tran-seasonal storm cloth.   It is all one storm anyway.   Life is just weathering it.   I guess life's storm has many eyes.   And many eyes are always useful.  Bring it on. 
This one is made from such fragile old cloth. A big wind might just blow it away.  Be on the lookout for  scraps falling from the sky.    We can all meet up somewhere and sew them back together.  And then  let it happen agin.  Gotta love it. 

Another W day

Warmer today.  Cold but Warmer. And I am enjoying (a robe called) Wind in the Winter light.  On a Warm Wall.  Watching it appear and disappear.  While   fixing some loose bricks in the fireplace. 

And What a nice guy...I am thinking.   This Man  who thinks this dutch door is such a  hard door to deal with and would rather not actually.   It is old and warped and it sags now and again in the frame, letting all the cold wind in,  but I Love it and so he is working to seal the gaps today, sanding, rehanging, Whatever it takes so I can have my Old Door and we might stay warm too.

The sun is out and that makes a big difference on a not so cold day.  We should do some Walking.  But Fixing is first.  It will be colder later.

Good Morning December

I was at Mom's yesterday.  She needs someone there most of the time now.  Although my brother helps a lot,  my days are  way too full.   My back hurts.   The house is a mess.   I am scattered.   Sometimes just putting a few scraps together makes me feel more together.  I enjoy the sense  that all those little separate bits are still  one somehow.   That pieces of a story that fell apart can be put back together in some useful way.  The sun rose warm like a promise this morning.    The view is more open through the storm thinned trees.   It is almost like some trees fell down to give me  a  sense of space and a better view of the old sea.    I suppose any change is a gift of new vision.   It is a December walking day.   Now where did I put my shoes?