A book. A book might be a thing that measures the time spent giving it form.
If I cross paths with Book, we will both be going. In motion. Maybe for a moment seeming still. But not.
Note to self: Thingness is only a temporary measure.
In going through things. Lessening. I came across this old photo collage (the not digital kind) done by my son in high school way back when he first started taking pictures. I like how it moves and stands still at the same time.
Speaking of measure, I had no idea what day it was when I woke up and I love that.
A hoot around here lately. Really. Just Going all wrong. It's too cold for too long, which is grating on my nerves. The pipes going to the washer which is in the garage froze up. The tarp blew off the wood and it is all wet. Soul-o scratched his own eye which is now all swollen. And then some small electrical meltdown in the studio. Hopefully not a big expense...
But we are not sick or dead and I can still sew, so I guess I will shut up now. I am thinking how we are ultimately how we solve problems.
A mobile upload here folks. And a link to Small Journeys which was posted before the meltdown. Sometimes a bit of extra technology is a good thing. Too time consuming though... probably would be easier if I knew how. I will be back again when I can.
So here I am. We all are actually, where ever we are. Another day.
Here it has turned cold. With the biggest cold yet to come as the days grow longer. I've been quiet. Without words for why. That has not changed really. I wrote in my journal today, waiting for January. And then I wrote why?Why am I always waiting? Undo that. This is the great Undoing I think. The hardest. Undoing the definition of patience.
This is the month when shadows are long. Now I see where my stray cat inspiration has come from. The shadow of going. Which seems here a bit like standing. Without waiting.
I have learned a lot from this little beast. The first cat I have rescued from the wild. My wild. This place where I live and watch how it changes. This place that challenges me in so many ways. I marvel at how he knows it. He has no schedule. No place. He goes out. He comes in. He sometimes does not come in. He is fine. And he knows how to take care of himself. I like that about cats. I have tried hard not to break him. I am just here for him.
This one has been headless for too long. Inspired by this, I think I found a solution.
Pulled Across Moons is a good name I think. I like this one very much.
And it is raining again. And then it will snow. And rain. And then snow again. With a little rain mixed in. December soup. I think there might be some sun on Friday. Soul-o hid my little Solstice Cloth. When I find it I will talk about it.
Seasons are passing so quickly. One turning into another. Lives lived. Lessons learned.
This morning, the last of the dyepot(poet) water. Continuing. With an older idea, the more intentional ecoprint. Considering again, the redefinition of patchwork. Without seams. I'v been hovering here for a while now, show and tell soon. This time and once again inspired by the ever InspirationalIndia Flint. It is out of place for me to teach this. For an introduction to bundling. You might consider this. Learn. Respect. Support. And take it from there. Which is the gentle natural order of things. At least in my (unwritten) book.
Today, I noticed and loved how the morning light made a little story more obvious. How cloth can soften hard lines simply by the way it falls. Because it can.
I thought again how cloth softens me. How that has happened. How I might learn again from that.
The curtain climber is wild today. Must be the wind.
November. I always casually think of September and October as the big change months here. Physically everything is becoming different. But November. November is when it really takes hold. Inside. Something like a chill. But really a pulling INward. This November it feels more obvious. The movement. The change in the dance. The coma effect.
A glance at the wall this morning. I saw, without looking that the rain had gone. But as the shadows danced I knew the wind was still here. And I can hear the wind. Big wind. Pieces of trees free falling. Pieces of me shifting. Finding a more comfortable new arrangement. So the wall looked like this.
But felt like this.
It is going to be that kind of day. Month. And then some. I am going to try being be a bit less present with social media and the blog and a bit more present with myself. Undoing expansion. Less, yet a deepening. So, then more. Some shift, but a natural shift. That fits with my own evolving natural sense of order.
I couldn't update my newsletter yesterday because this sense of season had not yet settled in. Today then maybe. And I think it is time for a little patch of wind. Or maybe a big one.