Spirit Cloth

Forever changed

Today.  a Cloudy day.  Caught by my own Whisperings.  I thought about whitewashing.   I covered my existing work with white.   Or white-ish.   Un-dyed actually.  Not sure if I will be the same.   I might be forever in between.  Understanding and not.  And perhaps wordless here for a while.   Or longer.

Have you ever just known. That everything had changed ?  Like in a clear way? It is quite alarming.   And explaining  is not an option.

What if this is it?

Cloth on a sunny day

 

The winged shirt  is still in process

leftover from a workshop.

I  like it as a curtain.

I am simply exhausted from  being outside prepping the soil for planting tomorrow.  It was a very sunny day.  The windows were open for the first time since autumn. 

a simple thread

 

We. Started out making shoelaces.  I held the string . He showed me the plaiting.  We talked about what we learned as children.  Many things were the same even though we grew up on different sides of this earth.

He made this.  For me.  It holds a rock he found at the Grand Canyon.  He went without me.  And learned to fly.   Came back a pilot.  He is like a bird.  A natural feel for it. 

 

It amazes me.  The work involved in holding lives together.   We have so many differences.   But we also have a a lot in common.   And he has beautiful hands.  Always did.

Feathers in March

... these little plain birds.  Just blending in.  Having wintered the storm.  Enjoying the new spring warmth.  Sometimes when I stand  really still and act like a tree they land on me.  But not today.  Hard to get a picture of that anyway really. 

The season is changing. I feel a lightness returning... like new wings, or old ones well rested.  The Feather cloth  is finally back under the needle.  Its name is Home.   And it is nice to be here.

A link to the Magic Feather project is up top.  Home is a category if you want to look back.

Weaving home

I did this small weaving , maybe , well, too many years ago to remember.   And it was a little cloth  made to be what I imagined home to be like...  some place out in the middle of no where. Some where,  where living a simple life and breathing clean air and growing food would just be the way it  is.    I gave it to Mom and Dad long ago, because they imagined that too.  Although they never  really got there.   They made the place they lived in as close to it as possible.  Built a life on a dream.  That worked for them.

I live in a nice place, but I know I will leave.   Mostly about the cost of living but also other things too.   I am thinking of  doing a series of little tapestries  depicting this place.   Keepers of the  sense of it.   Before I go.   I still have a lot of bits of hand dyed wool.   Going grows closer.   I figure,  if I live long enough, maybe  a few more of these with a sense of  where I  end up might be nice as well.    Because  weaving has a bit of home  built into it  for me.   And  weaving yourself into a place really  says a lot about  Home .   Woven right in,  Unraveling,  Reweaving.   Holding together in the most basic way.    I hope that when I go, I will have sheep.   Or find  them nearby.  That would work out real fine.

I am planning some Weave Whisperings.

Imagining that.

 

Meanwhile, do you know Nancy?  She has the most beautiful sheep.  I want to meet them someday.