Hannah does a lot of sewing, she makes quilts and catnip toys. When she has a bunch of scraps, she puts them in a bag and sends them to me.
It was Hannah’s scraps that I used to make my latest batch of “Intuitive Potholders“. I sent her a photo of the Pussywillow Potholder that has a piece of fabric in it (the “message in a bottle” fabric) that Susie sent me. She liked it.
So now I’m sending Hannah fabric for a change, a couple of pieces of that “Message in a bottle” fabric.
From Susie to me to Hannah, and I have a feeling I might get a scrap of it back in a little bag from Hannah one day.
Jackie sent me a card, with a poem in it by Ursula Le Guin, along with her payment for my How to Keep Your Husband quilt, which she bought.
I want to share the poem, with you.
It speaks to me of the fear I’ve felt in my life and my choices to go against my instincts in order to conform and “feel” safe. I see now that feeling of was really a trap. A way of keeping myself from me. Safety with a heavy price.
Looking Back By Ursula Le Guin
Remember me before I was a heap of salt, the laughing child who seldom did as she was told or came when she was called, the merry girl who became Lot’s bride, the happy woman who loved her wicked city. Do not remember me with pity. I saw you plodding on ahead into the desert of your pitiless faith. Those springs are dry, that earth is dead. I looked back, not forward, into death. Forgiving rains dissolve me, and I come still disobedient, still happy, home.
I did finish making the other Crane Pillow yesterday. It too is already sold.
I don’t know if I’ll get to make another or even start another one today. I do have some potholders to finish up and I’d like to get them in my Etsy Shop.
But I do have more of the silk embroideries and lots of that silky (pain in the butt) fabric to work with, so I’m sure to make more next week.
I also have an idea rattling around inside of me, that came to me as I was driving to the Farmers Markets a few weeks ago for my first Bellydancing Performance. It’s a another goddess fabric painting, in the same family as my I Am Enough fabric painting.
This morning I’m shipping out my How to Keep Your Husband quilt, pillows, Jon’s photos, and paintings that Blue, who goes to the Bishop Maginn School, made and Jon sold on his blog. Blue sells almost as much work as she can make. We still have a few of her paintings that Jon will be posting for sale soon, and she keeps making more.
I only thought to look up the symbolic meaning of Hummingbirds after I wrote about making the pillow yesterday.
As usual, there was so many different sites with meanings, but what most of them had in common was that the Hummingbird is a symbol of finding the joy and lightness in life.
No coincidence that I was feeling just the opposite when I chose the Hummingbird embroidery to work with. But then I can’t help but wonder did I choose it, or did it come to me?
My Hummingbird Pillow is sold, but this morning I began working on another one using the other crane embroidery I have.
I feel like making these pillows is like reading a nonfiction book. Because nonfiction is usually harder for me to get into. And once I do, I don’t want to put it down because I’ll get out of the head of reading it. (It’s a different head than reading fiction which goes in and down like something soft and sweet).
Because the fabric is difficult to work with, I feel like if I stop making these pillows, I won’t want to start again. And I still have plenty of silk embroideries to choose from.
Often in the mornings, when we take the animals out to graze, Jon will stand with Red watching the sheep from the hill behind the barn. Red can’t do much sheep herding anymore, he can barely see and it’s harder and harder for him to run.
But Jon still likes to take Red to the sheep, and Red seems to like to be there with him.
I was washing the dishes today and saw this small leaf under the dish drain. It looked like a footprint to me, worthy of a photograph, framed between the red bars of the dish rack, speckled with drops of dish water.
I laid on my back on the floor in my studio willing myself to feel different than I did. It happens, suddenly inertia descends, like a cloak draped over my head, falling to my feet. Despair settles in.
But I am fortunate, I can make myself move even though a part of me would rather not. And I know, for me, movement makes a difference. Walking usually works to shift my mood. And making art.
Jon and I spent the morning in Albany at the Bishop Maginn School. We brought some art books and Jon gave jeans and caps to Asher and his brother Issachar.
Blue was working on a painting of a woman. “She’s a rose”, Blue told me. The woman grew out of a dress shaped like rose petals and roses surrounded her, floating on her hair, covering her face.
Blue was having a difficult day, so she painted a rose woman with a moon on her forehead. She told me that painting makes her feel better.
I pushed myself up from the floor and sorted through the silk embroideries that I’ve been using to make pillows. Last night I tried for over an hour to create a pillow around a silk embroidered owl and couldn’t find the right colors.
Now I put the owl aside and looked thought the embroideries till I saw the hummingbird. I didn’t think about it long, I just trusted whatever it was that made me pause when I saw the bird.
And as I looked at it, thinking of what colors I’d use, I remembered Blue’s painting. The pinks and reds that helped bring her to a better place.
I went through my fabric, found the pinks and red that I thought would work together and got to work.
And as I focused on my work, it started to work on me, lifting my mood. Each piece of fabric leading me, like stepping-stones, to a lighter place.