Spirit Cloth

What is a life?

I so relate to a basket of scraps.

There is a mirror across from the bed, on the closet door. This is a pic of the reflection. I was trying to get a pic of soul-o, but the pic was snapped before I was ready. So here we are. Me almost 71 and he is getting older too. Sleeping in again. 

We are about to remove that mirror. And the closet wall it hangs on.  Maybe ourselves. With a hammer. It'll be a mess. But we don't care. This house is just too "house", if you can get that.  Who needs closets?  Not me. I prefer baskets. Or just less stuff. We need light moving through.  The walls without heating vents, we think they need to go. At least that is the thought caught today.

Meanwhile, looks like a bigger snow coming at the end of the week... so off to the market we go. I made a note to self, to grow and freeze or preserve more veggies next season. Get organized in that regard. 

I needed some sun. I will talk about this one eventually. Maybe I said that already when I started it

10 years

or so

ago.

December 11 and it has begun

The dreaming. The kind you do with your eyes open. 

The long stare.

Sometimes there cannot be talking. I am ready to hold my words. Wait. Like Magnolia.

This mapping, the other side, perhaps is a way to explain some new thoughts. But not yet.

What interests me today is the stitches you don't see, cannot see, don't need to see. And how that is part of form and even identity. 

The truth in not being sure.

That part of form.

That's it.

I think this is my last post of the year. With words.  Maybe photos then, no comments. Let's take a break from trying to explain. See what form that takes.

Talk to you on the other side...

Again

Yesterday, after an all night rain.

He is growing up. Big and strong and almost friendly. 

Now it is raining, again, like I have never seen. Expected to continue until tomorrow morning. 

We need not more rain. Maybe if the porch roof falls in, we will save some money on demolition. 

An old dream that was in need of some seasonal adjustment. A scrap of cloth used in The Deep Pool of Thought on the lower left corner. Almost like a question, will snow come early this year?

And this one.

I love it just because it has no real agenda. I just enjoyed it. Has a circus feel, doesn't it? I added scraps of self as they appeared. The curved cloth weaving, I like it and might try something larger with this concept. And the sun will come out eventually, though the garden is taking a beating. There will be work to do and that is how, why, we keep going. 

It needs fringe.  I'm running low and will have to make some soon. 

I lost this post twice already, let's try again...

just Being Part of It

 

 

Mostly I planted perennials this year. They will return. And reseed, populate.

But I also did a lot of dead heading and trimming, I brought the spent blooms in to make pretty and and consider the in between. And then they dry.

Soul-O likes to sit near them. Likes the way they smell.

Likes them so much sometimes he butts them with his nose. Seeds fall out, if they are ready, I collect them.  I lump them all together  and store them in jars, put them downstairs in the cool basement. So many from one flower. I will plant them before deep winter, spread them around at wood's edge. And along the outside and inside the garden fence. Some down at the end of the road in by the mailbox. The deer will eat some of them. Hey ho. 

And what has happened here? Playing with vertical and horizontal stitch lines, which is taking like forever, but then poof!, this old self has begun to have the feel of being woven in. I'm not done considering this and I will talk eventually. 

Yesterday's Progress

I just let him sit there for a while.

I am not in a hurry.

The stem line, just marked with pen, where and as the thread fell. Started stitching but didn't finish. And yes, that's Deb's thread. Waiting.

Change is at the Heart of Season.  I want to name this that. Heart of Season. I thought how oddly we attach ourselves to the expected outcome and that it is probably just a slow repeating shift toward the unrecognizable. If we only lived long enough. 

PS. I will remove the PlaceKeeper from the top blog menu, it is way outdated. Let me rethink that.