Spirit Cloth

The Softening of Winter

Dried Zinnia.

Faded. Still from seeds from Mom's Garden.

I like perennials, the ones that come up by themselves. Over and over.

But there is something special about being part of the planting, and gathering and planting again process. Not just going, but going with tender loving care.

It's been cold, not that cold but the grey cold that nags on you after a while. I'm tired of it. Tired of keeping fires, tired of spending more time indoors than out. Tired of the news. Dry skin. Laundry. You name it. I'm tired of it. February. Every year. The winter bitch returns.

I've got a lot of the old unfinished ClothWoven pieces on the wall today. Because I love them. Looking. Not stitching cuz my fingers are split and chapped from the cold and hauling wood, and washing dishes and such. This one is an old wishing star.  It's the first time I have looked at it as a basket, the wishing star. Basket self in new form. The center was like heart but now I think it is more like wishing self.

Wishing is softer than bitching and it is Valentines Day so I'll be nice.

 

Needle Chanting Marching.

Rose

Just a quick stitched note to self.

Resting on Monday

Monday in April is a relaxing day.

Everyone around here in this neighborhood goes back to work or school and it is quiet. Deserted.

There is laundry that will wait for Tuesday. Dirty sock for Soul-O.

Even cloth has relaxed. Continued from yesterday.

I don't feel like typing so let me talk. You might click on the picture to see closer while I am talking.

 

audio link if you see no player

The pink mending is split back stitch, with one strand I call it splitting hairs. Changing orientation is a good exercise in looking and balance. Dad taught me that. Changing the alignment of components encourages a different chain of thoughts. Story.

Reconsidering Tender

I was up early with inspiration this morning.

Reconsidering pink for the first time in a long time.

 My basket is filled with pink today.

Like the birth of warmth, I will use it to melt some personal snow.

The studio is lonely but it is just too cold to use it.  It rests quietly. While I go out with a pick and shovel and hack my way out.

Old Cloth and Old sky

 

 

Winter sky casts a pink glow

on old cloth rolled,

resting and not bragging.

 

The way we were

 This heart is a window.

...

nine hearts on a snowy sunday

A simple arrangement. In pinkish brown. Part of an old  whisper.

One heart, two hearts, three hearts

Four.

Five hearts, six hearts,

Seven.

And two more.

A little holiday cloth. And just trying to redefine the valentine/heart once again. I think something less artificial is a good start.

Later...

...there were 9 hearts overlapping. minus 1. Not because I planned it that way but because I counted wrong.

a patch of rose colored sky

mom and i just sat around talking today. there are things to be talked about. i added a patch of rose silk to this fragment because it was in my pocket. luckily i also had some rose colored thread to make it more comfortable.

i'm home now where bigger cloth is waiting.

rosiness

moving along, getting my flow back by going.

a feather and a ring of vision framed in very old cotton stained in various shades of rosiness. a few one inch squares always calms me down and gets me going. and these natural pinks are so much better than the artificial ones.

now for a little blush from some red wine, and i will be back to normal. ha!