Spirit Cloth

Smaller

The deer.

Among clotheslines. Closer than before. A group of young ones wandered through. Or maybe they are just smaller here? They are more grey, less brown from the other place I no longer call home. Very hard to see against the oak bark. I think they have been more present, just not noticed because not so much in the clearing near the house. This is right outside the window where I put my drawing/drink tea table that sits closer to the ground. 

The tiny iron tea pot.  And not for drinking tea. I bought it from Crazy Richard in Japan, while considering small cloth. Asked if it could linger there before the move. It just arrived. It's actually my new tiny dyepot, maybe big enough for one walnut. And then, I accidentally left my big old walnut pot behind. I did remember my big copper pot though.  But smaller was,is on my mind. Dyeing one scrap at a time.

Scraps of self grow smaller each year.

A Studio Day

A warm one. Before another polar vortex. I put my winter bitch in the closet.

I will build one small fire, warm up the stove. Since the sun is out, that's enough for the day.

On a lighter note, this will be a Stoodio Day.

The lightness took over yesterday. When I patched Joy back to my center.

Stitching, anticipating February, weathering a storm before it happens, stitching, sewing snow, S(new)ing...? Snewing. Probably with out the context, we might read it Snoowing.  Oh ha.

The patches are half dipped indigo, two stitched together seemed to be a snowscape. The cloth is doublewoven, from an old baby blanket, so I did not add my normal extra layer.  Maybe you remember this Cloth Story. More of those to come. Materials are like good friends, every day you learn a little more about them.

Some Old Thing

Years and years ago, I made this patchwork for a pillowcase.

I gave it to my mother.

It was one of my first patchworks where I departed from commercial fabrics. In fact the yellow squares at the border are cut from my high school gym-suit. I clearly remember high school gym. Probably because I was always embarrassed by the teacher because I was not athletic.

I got it back to repair. But time passed and so did Mom. It's not a pillowcase anymore. It's a story fragment. I cut part of it off to use in something else. I don't remember when or what. But it's probably buried in this blog somewhere. The indigo is new. I can say I patch with dye. And of course, there is a lot more to say about dyed patchwork when I pull it together. I hung this on the wall to remind myself to do that.  I've not time for a lot of things right now.

It's raining. Way more rain than we need really. It just keeps raining.  Yesterday, after waiting so long for a dry day, I had some wood dumped. I covered it with a tarp, not having time to stack. And expecting a shower. It's been raining all night and still raining. Like a monsoon. At sunrise, no tarp and a big pile of drenched wood.

Excuse me, but SHIT.