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It rained and rained and rained. Still raining. Still cold.
Cold enough to dull a mood. But not cold enough to stop the flow.
Yesterday, again too gloomy for video, I stacked some running stitch (walking stitch actually) on one of the dyed patchwork corner experiments I talked about here. A sort of double flow on this one. In sympathy with the day. It's a slow process. It took all day. And that was OK. The day was so liquid I lost track of time.
I worked the stitch in sections, changing direction. Filling in one color section that moved through the patchwork. And then connected the areas by filling in rows. You can shift the stitch as you go, to make gradual curves, bridge rows, or just be free and less even. It finds its own flow. It shows you how it might go. Don't you love how it has softened the grid? Because of how the thread runs through it.
Outside the studio, the overhang protects part of the deck, especially if the rain is light.
(Continued from here)To celebrate the rain, the rain we really needed, I stitched the next section diagonally. Two strands of white, since one didn't seem to say rain. I found an unexpected opportunity to follow the printed dot pattern while stitching. And then I stitched the window of opportunity to celebrate that. I followed the shadow of the folded back cloth so it isn't centered or straight. Opportunity is like that I was thinking, not planned, perfect or as expected. Just suddenly there to notice. To go with.
I love how she seems to hold so many moments at once. And I can remember what's missing.
And winter Soul-O. Just plain comfortable. Young and unashamed.
Yesterday. The day seemed to melt into early spring. Most of the snow has gone. And with a day of steady rain, we will be left with mostly wet earth. The smell of that.
And winter me. Not the Winter Bitch from last year. No. Softer, grayer, not caring one bit, spending time trying to make my hair seem like thread. I did spend some time, late into the night, by firelight, stitching the old bitch.
An older and wiser Winter Bitch. Resting in a nest (basket) of lines and wrinkles and patches... I just decided to lose the pen completely. Let the lines form. See what emerges. And just love it. Acknowledging with joy that she is simply still here. When the ink runs out of my pen, I will not buy another. There is always walnut ink. Or no guide at all.
I am using sewing thread for the new dark lines, split back stitch, one strand of thread, splitting hairs.
It is February. I am very in between coming and going. With lots of loose ends to tie up. There will be gaps.
Winter Bitch continued from some old Small Journey here.
Reconsidering that. And blanket. And holding center. Vibrating outward.
Many things might be considered at once. It's always that way I suppose.
But what I'm considering more often these days is Considering itself.
I like the word Consider. It has a softness. A lack of judgment. Defined as thinking carefully before making a decision, I am thinking maybe not even needing to. And Reconsidering is like a return to this soft beginning. A way to continue without rejecting. It is just about going. Considering is like taking a step toward something. Leaning in. Reconsidering is a kind of step away. A rocking outward. There is a quiet rhythm to it. This process. Small Journeys that add up to something. Anything. Anything is OK.
On the right, the beginning of the first perpetual grid cloth that I talked about yesterday. A cloth about dividing space. The center. Just white cloth, white seams, 9. Today's Nine. On the left, looking at a Long Time, continuing from here. In between. Me. As a doodle.