Full Moon Fiber Art

Search Results for: ferns and leaves

Ferns and Leaves, The Forest Floor

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There are some fabrics that are so beautiful and perfect just the way they are, I find it hard to work with them.

Until I started making this quilt I thought that might be the case with the leaf and twig fabric that I used in it.  But as often happens, cutting it up and focusing on small parts of it helped me to use it in a way that makes it mine.

Pairing the ferns and leaf fabric

After  I posted a photo of a fern that I took in the pasture, Vicki sent me a message identifying it as a Sensitive Fern.  It’s called that because the leaves of the fern die with the first frost, unlike so many other ferns that stay green throughout the winter. But the Sensitive Fern also has fronds that are reddish-brown and last throughout the winter which gives the fern its other name, Bead Fern.

It was the discovery of the name and nature of the Sensitive Fern that inspired me to use the fern fabric I had in my stash.  I’ve used it before and had just a small piece left.  After cutting the fern fabric into strips, it was easier to cut up the leaf fabric into small “scenes” that matched the size of the ferns.

As I worked on the quilt I kept thinking of the forest floor.  That was the feeling I wanted it to have.

But the big surprise came today when I was trying to figure out what to do next and I laid out the leaf fabric in large pieces around the whole quilt to that point.  It was so perfect, even beyond what I could have imagined.

I suppose in hindsight, it seems kind of obvious to use the leaf fabric to surround the quilt. But since I don’t plan my quilts, It didn’t occur to me till I got to the point where I could see how well it worked.

The last quilt I made, Shibori Hankie Quilt was all about ice, snow, and winter.  But this one is clearly all about the woods in summer.  I’m not sure how I skipped that far ahead in the seasons, but it somehow feels just right for now.

Some more  “scenes” from the quilt.

 

 

Ferns And Leaves

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I was straightening up my studio when I came up with the idea to put these two pieces of fabric together.

I had a two-foot piece of the fern material left. (I’ve used it on a few pieces already) and lots of the leaf and insect fabric. I immediately had a quilt in mind.

But once I got them all sewn together, I couldn’t figure out what to do next.  So I went for a walk in the woods hoping that would help. I came back with a few ideas, but none of them worked the way I imagined. 

At the end of the day, I was still playing around with them, trying them out with different fabrics and not knowing what to do.

Tonight when I go to bed, I’ll ask for a dream to help.  And maybe in the morning, when I get to my studio, I’ll know what to do next.

Two Holding Pillows, Spring Green And Deep Woods

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That spring green, Jackie wrote to me.  I knew just what she was talking about.

When the leaves first unfurl all translucent green made brighter by the sunlight shining though them.  They always seem so sensitive to me.  Like they might recoil if touched.

Detail of the feather I stitched on the Spring Green.

I’ve been working on Spring Green over the past couple of days. I stuffed it and sewed it up today.

Then I began another Holding Pillow.  This one using the corduroy fabric I found at the Senior Center Thrift Store in town.

I named this Holding Pillow “Deep Woods”.  It was just yesterday that I saw the first ferns starting to emerge from the muddy bank along the stream.  But it wasn’t until I had all the strips of color sewn together with the solid teal corduroy that the idea of unfurling ferns popped into my mind.

Both of these Holding Pillows are sold.

Me sewing the opening of Deep Woods

Walking In The Woods, Ticks and Skunk Cabbage

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It was two days ago that I took my last walk, off the path, in the woods.  I came back crawling with ticks and know that this time of year the woods belongs to them, not me.

I did bring the owl eggs, that I found in our barn,  with me and left them at the roots of the giant Shag Bark Hickory that I always visit.  I’m sure they’ll be long gone by the time I get back to the tree in the fall.

On my walk I came across this seed pod, that had fallen from a tree and was stuck on a strand of spider web.  The way the wind was blowing it, circling around me, coming straight at me then jerking quickly away,  it almost felt like it knew I was there, knew I was paying attention to it.  Like it was teasing me.

The strength of the spider’s web astonished me.  At one point I held the seeds in my hand, but the web didn’t lose it grip or break.

I will miss walking off the trail in the woods, but am so fortunate to have those trails to walk on.

One of the paths borders a swamp for a bit.  It’s such a primal things, filled with peepers and skunk cabbage, ferns and mosses.  The mosquitos aren’t out yet, so I was able to find a dry place to stand and appreciate it for a while.

The Skunk Cabbage are sprouting leaves and flowers.  I got this photo of one today.

Skunk Cabbage flower in the swamp along the path in the woods.

Myself In The WolfPine

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It’s memories that plague me as I walk in the woods.  My brain regurgitating past hurts and harms done to and by me.

I remind myself that reality is what is in front of me at the moment.

That I am as much a part of the earth as the trees, ferns and mushrooms surrounding me,
as much as the rotting leaves and soil under my feet.

The Wolfpine towers over me
I think…

“that’s me”

Split in half,
damaged yet thriving.

The dead side,
home to squirrels, owls and spiders
shelter and a place to roost for the passing bird
food for the ants and beetles.

The living side,
tumbling upwards,
toward the possibility of open sky
and the nourishing sun.

Notes From The Woods, Seeking Mushrooms

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Already the logged woods are beginning to heal.

Brambles and ferns,
the place where the bear runs,
felled trees and branches left behind
becoming earth.

Zinnia does that Lab dance through the muddy pond, kicking up her heels and tossing her head.

She comes out a black and white cookie,
rolling in last years leaves,
groaning in pure pleasure.

Mosquitos sing and sometimes sting,
gathering blood for their babies.

I only have eyes for mushrooms, which blinds me to all the other wonders of the woods.

But it is their season.

I seek mushrooms, as mosquitos gather blood and Zinnia rolls in mud.

 

 

Notes From The Woods

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I heard the young hawk as we walked on the dirt road.  The one who circles the farm, with a piercing screech that never seems to stop.

Once we get to the woods,  we take the turn off the path that will tie the ends of our circle.

Rusty orange salamanders drape themselves over fallen branches, and curl up in the damp leaves making little orange squiggles.

I walk the path of least resistance over years of leaf cover to a patch of low grass then through the ferns. Up the hill, stepping over trees that all seemed to fall at the same time. Coming out in the place where among the the maples, oaks, beech and black birch, the pines are the tallest.

What were once branches protrude from the inside of a tree that fell a long time ago and is now making its way back to the earth.  The nubby branches grow moss, like the antlers of a young buck.

Sun like a spotlight moves though the woods  falling on decaying leaves, lighting up a seedling, never staying too long.  Still, I wonder if it’s enough to make a difference, to be touched by the sun, even if just for a moment.

I pick a blackberry in the clearing, the thorny bushes grabbing at my leggings.  The bushes are ubiquitous but the berries are rare.  They are tiny compared to the  plump ones I got at the farmers market last week.

I mash the blackberry between the roof of my mouth and tongue.  A burst of flavor and texture of tiny seeds.  I hold the berry in my mouth,  taking my time, unwilling to let the dark sweetness go.

Fate take the lead, past the mound of rocks left over from a farmer, now covered in moss and ivy.  Past the marsh where only one kind of grass grows, a green sea and rolling hills at the same time.

I pick my way across the rocks in the little brook, once again gushing with water.  I  circle the fallen Hickory, then slowly walk the log arched over the same brook only further down stream.

At the little waterfall, I marvel,  playing with the scale in my mind, pretending its hundreds of feet high like the pictures I’ve seen of waterfalls in South America.

Now the deer path is thick with tall plants and low bushes, it’s muddy from days of rain.   Tiny Velco-like seeds lean into me hitching a ride on my clothes.

At the Gulley Bridge I can’t resist taking off my shoes, tugging up my leggings and putting my feet in the cold, flowing water.

Over head the the piercing screech of the young hawk, welcomes us home.

My hat with the feathers I found on my walks.

Morning Walk, Narrowing Roads

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Climbing the long shadows of grass on blacktop, I stare down the cars and trucks coming towards me, making my presence known.

Route 22, one of the oldest roads in the country, is the shortest part of our morning walk.

On the dirt road I unhook Fate from the leash.

Two leaves of corn sprout two inches tall in impossibly even rows.  Fate pees on coyote scat and I keep walking the shushing drum beat of my feet on packed gravel.

I pull my fingers into my fingerless gloves and raise my face to the sun gathering warmth.

The grass is tall and wet as I leave the dirt road for the path in the woods.  Another old road, this one all but forgotten.

Here, the bird song is tropical.

I notice how my footsteps have slowed as the roads I walk narrow.  No longer the consistent measured footfalls, like rows of corn, when I first left the house.

Now I go from the old path into the woods and make my own road.

I walk over fallen trees, and duck under low hanging branches.  I step around moss covered rocks, and between ferns. I leave behind broken twigs, disturbed leaves, bent sprouts and no doubt some dead insects along with my smell.

I stand on a mound of rocks someone piled up 200 years ago.  The ones left over from the wall building when making a farm of the woods.

Fate has no time for the past, now that she  knows we are headed home she takes the lead.

She walks the deer trails and I follow.

Wildflowers In The Woods

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Trout Lillies

Last week it was the trout lilies in the woods and Bloodroot in the pasture.

Bloodroot

But the wildflowers don’t last long.  That’s why I like to make sure I get to the woods this time of year to see them.

Gaywings

Today the Gaywings are blooming.

Dwarf Ginseng

This Dwarf Ginseng had the company of a spider.

Rattlesnake plantain

The Rattlesnake Plantain is a type of orchid.  The leaves are striking.  I hope to see it when it flowers,  a long stem of small white orchids.

Although this little star flower was familiar to me, I couldn’t find its name.  Maybe someone reading this knows.

The swamp is a watery garden.  It’s filled with small lush islands the violets blooming and ferns unfurling. The skunk cabbage flowers have shriveled as they leaf out.  Mosses grow everywhere and dead trees are sprouting life.

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