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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?
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.
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.
... 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.
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.
At the time of this spring Moon, the ground begins to soften and earthworm casts reappear, inviting the return of robins.
Algonquin.
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.
Carried by the wind no doubt.
x
x
x
first study for the Wings of Vision
cloth.
........
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung