Some Januarys are cold. This one was more like February. I found this photo of Mom and the Old Sea. Taken one super warm January not so long ago. I like to remember her like this.
I know she was thinking of Dad. Dad died the January before. Her hair was as white as the crest of the waves. Like the clouds if there had been any.
And I am caught in the white of winter. White and not so white. Which is the way it happens. And caught in how we honor days.
January was deeper this year. There was cold that moved through me in a different way. There was young death. There were old sadnesses. There were way too many new questions. There was the noticing of the whitening of the man's hair. And mine.
I am finishing January with this sense of whiteness.
Over the quiet time in December, I stitched a little on this cloth. It is an oldie. Goes back to a simpler time, one of my earlier what-ifs. Like many cloths rolled and stored, it surprised me a bit. It is not large, about 22 inches square. And it is more "quilterly". Like things I was making back then, I put it away for that reason actually. I felt I had outgrown that I think. I was swept up into something and lost touch with work that didn't seem to fit that ideal. Still, after sitting with it for a few days I came to know it again. As me. And wondered who was I? Who am I? Who will I be? I added to it. Like the line of text above. It once was something about edges. I can't remember exactly but the edge that was is no longer the edge that is now. Which makes the words edge that are floating around rather funny actually. Some of the other edge words were removed and used for edges of other things as I recall. So it was edgeless for a while as I was on to something else...Many something elses.
Thinking about edges today. How sometimes we use them to define finished. In between. Use them like fences. To mark a safety zone. A boundary. To compare. Measure. To stop. To accuse. To reassure. To look back. To go forward. And even to make time stand still.
In this year after The Year I Became Old I feel the need to erase my sense of edge. The line, that is, that separates things in my mind and encourages fragmentation. Comparison. Judgement.
I only have a sense of this. So that is all I can say.
Except I added this today. And made a note to self...I am the edge....
This old house, like any old house, is slowly falling apart but still holding together. Like people, that's ok. If it is slow enough, falling apart is quite beautiful. There is time to witness a kind of lightening. A peeling away of layers. But of course some things just won't do really.
And so, after a small meltdown, there is no power in the studio. At least for a while. Some serious work needs to be done in the walls and that cannot happen now. I moved everything that needed to be plugged in. The man has all his electronic stuff on a table in a spare room that we have not been heating. On warmer days the room is somewhat usable. On colder days he uses his laptop in the warm room. I moved all my wired stuff in there. He has a table at one end and I now have one at the other. We are not facing each other. We can work as if alone. Since the room is mostly cold, I simply do not sit there in my "plugged" chair as much. And I think that is actually just fine. Checking email etc... once a day is enough.
And so, maybe a simple and perhaps surprisingly pleasant inexpensive solution. A quiet room. I cleaned up, got rid of more stuff. I pushed the tables together. Made room for a few things but really a lot less. I like being able to walk around the perimeter of the table space. No wires to run to the walls. Not even a lamp. Room to work on some large cloth. And now I am sorting through pencils and paper and books! A change. It's good. This quiet room. No technology hum. It's been warmer too. One small fire keeps it comfy when the sun is out.
But still the rain comes in. We have to do something about that. Soon.
It's been a strange week. I feel as if I gone somewhere I can't remember and returned renewed.
Needle and thread, paper, paint, books are all waiting. And Soul-o is just fine.
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.
It snowed all day yesterday and into the night. But it was a very fine dry snow. Like salt. Or powdered chalk. And it didn't amount to much. Accumulating temporarily. Where the wind didn't catch it.
The light coating process was fun to watch. The slow erasing. But then the wind came and that was beautiful to watch too. Which parts would appear. How they seemed a focus then. These common cracks and meeting places. Now speaking. How the slow uncovering had me looking closely at the way things meet. Touch. Sometimes almost. What tender places.
I was inspired by that.
In this quiet unrolling and undoing that fills my winter here, I have uncovered some pieces that were started while I was considering white. And now I am undoing or should I say REconsidering the white of them. Like a kind of winter that might not be forever.
So. Yes, at this point we are both "under the weather". Which is big at this point. The under and the weather.
The roof is leaking . The sky is falling. The wind almost picked up Chicken as he went out to pee. He didn't mind. He loves wind and climbed a tree in the rain before coming back in. He promptly went to sleep.
The man finally fell asleep at 3:3o AM. I stitched by lamplight which made my eyes ache and my head hurt. I fell asleep with a needle in my hand and the fire went out. I fixed that and then decided to bring more wood in because of the dampness and the fact that THEY just predicted 3 more days of the same. Another chapter for my neighbors to add to the book as the old lady in the bird robe went out at 4AM to haul wood.
But I stitched more and a little long cloth began to have a story. The thing that runs through it. The dark and light of it. And a wish for balance. A little solstice cloth , then, as it happened. I would like to talk about it more but not today. As soon as the man wakes, I'm going to sleep.
Later I looked at two cloths touching. Which gave them a new sense of season. A trans-season stray emerged.