Spirit Cloth

Roots and Waves and Upheaval

New Roots.

At sunrise. Roots always seem ancient to me. But they are also a symbol of continuing. And newness then, a way to hold in the going. I was glad to see these this morning. The year has been so destabilizing. And these new roots make me feel like I am more at home.

I just kept stitching. This morning I sense a sea of stitch has formed. I am resting, floating in it.

Honestly I feel more puzzled than ever. Stitch is simple and I can understand it.

Out walking. Still learning the land.

This might be a favorite place. Old Earth is such a Timekeeper. A Story Teller. A story cloth I may well rest beneath one day... I made a new category, Old Earth. The Earth seems older here.

Sometimes we don't see things. But then looking closer we do. But then looking closer still, so so close,  we can no longer see what we saw. Funny how ageing might be a kind of change like that. That what we thought we saw isn't there at all. So we keep at it. Looking.

moss

 

Moss

As I continue with the path sections, I begin to use some very old green velvet to fill some gaps. The same velvet I used here. At the beginning of all this.  The cloth is from Mom's old velvet jacket. She loved moss green.  I sit here and realize how long some of these scraps of cloth have been with me. How many small journeys they have taken. We have taken. We have grown old together.

I have finished placing the stones on 2 panels. The sections measure about 9 x 21. For no particular reason except they feel about right. They might be tied together. Or not. I think there will be about 6. Guessing. Like guessing the number of jelly beans in a jar...how many stones are in the basket?

Our moss roof:

Step by Step

Path is forming in sections.

Just a walking stitch.

 

 

For walking softly.

(continued from HERE.)

 

Turning a corner

Hard to believe, maybe, that I am still stitching so much on this cloth but feeling at the same time that it is really done. I think that is because the  uncertainty is over.  Now things are just falling into place. As if I dreamed it and I have awoken to a clear day and I am just remembering a story. Not making one up.

I am refining the Four Corners.

I am also noticing the weight of the cloth. The more I add, the lighter it seems to become.  I think the silk base on the earth side did that. As I quilt through, the silk has a strange effect on the drape and feel as it joins with the rest of the cloth layers.  I get the impression it becomes thinner as I go. It UnDoes a kind of heaviness that has lingered through winter. In this way it is kind.

We almost had a freeze last night.

More feathers will be added to the jagged edges on this side. I may have to cut some from their backing to fit them together. Bring them closer. In this way space again becomes important, but in a different way. Less of it.

Please note... I have rebalanced and find myself with many family and friend type folks in far away places  that miss me on Facebook so I have put the link back in the sidebar and will simply post there in moderation. Not really spending much time there, but there all the same.

Rainy Day in April

The beginning of a rainy spell.

Colder.  Fires burning to ward off dampness. And chill.

Oaks are still bare. 

I like how the rain on the window gives the impression that they are melting.

But they are not.

Slow day.

I am adding more stones to the corners of the earth side of Home.

Cornerstones.

 

 

SomeWhere on the edge

Raining an April rain.

Slow. Steady. Light.

You can easily be out in it, although it is a bit cool.

I started anywhere.

Which really,

magically,

became somewhere immediately.

Catching the Small Thought

 

Because I can.

 

Because it is a habit.

Because little things are practice for bigger things and I want to add a ring of these to the big cloth I call Home. To me they are a form of reassurance. And a way to use some of the colors I don't usually use.  Jelly Beans are like that.  

And it will help me.  Move on from some small sadnesses that crept in while I wasn't paying attention. And sharing what helps me might help others.

(For those subscribed to Small Journeys...I will be back to that series after April. I have taken a break to finish the Magic Feather cloth I call home. The big cloth. Which I am focused on this month. I will back track to cover any small journeys taken in the process, including this one.)

This post is related to the previous one.

 

Candyland

Today will be warmer. Rain has waited till tomorrow.

Early this morning  Mr. Robin ran by.  So quickly I could hardly catch a shot.  I caught him between breaths.

Last night I turned the cloth.  This morning just looking.  Like some sort of Permaculture. All there underneath.  Waiting.  Supporting growth.  This is the earthen side.

Yesterday. It was Easter. I do not celebrate. But Mom did.  I was reminded of how she would line up jelly beans in the hallways while we slept.  Little candy breadcrumbs we could follow to find our Easter baskets.  She always told us the Easter Bunny must have dropped them on his way through  I smiled to myself and said maybe I should make a little holiday cloth. Stitch some jelly beans.   But I sat, lost in thought.  I thought about my Mom.  Who she was. What she gave me.  What she gave everyone.

Holidays were not rituals to her. Not banners of belief and doctrine. They did not include or exclude. They were for everyone within reach. They were a way, excuses really,  for her to return to a simpler time.  Childhood.  And share that. Give that back over and over. The love and the fun and the sense of simple joy and laughter.  And she did. Over and over. As long as she could.  I see it now as a reminder.  To push the pause button.  To get back.

And when I sat with the cloth this morning. With it's simpler side.  I saw them.  The stones that trace the rings of my basket-self.  The jelly beans. 

CandyLand was always my favorite game. 

I am going outside. For the day. To stick my hands in the dirt and let winter blow off me.  Ride my bike.

 

Path

 I have begun working on the "inside" of the cloth I call Home.  We call Home.

A path is useful because sometimes the going is not easy.

 I've sort of lost track of how many days it's been raining here.