"Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror. Just keep going, no feeling is final.... Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by it's seriousness. Give me your hand."
Rilke (Whole poem is here)
I fell down a rabbit hole today...
In a round about way, I ended up looking at this recipe for chickpea tofu, also known as Burmese tofu (another recipe, more complex but of interest here). Quick trip to the grocery store for some Garbanzo flour and I had this for lunch:
Chickpea tofu fried in olive oil topped with roasted winter squash and tomato sauce.
Bottom line...I will be making this on a regular basis. I'm having all kinds of fun imagining toppings.
It is such a gift how things can be the same and different. It would be a much less interesting world without this.
There should always be moments of joy and time to play.
One of my uncles made me this hat.
I'm not sure exactly how old I was, it's one of those things that I just have always had. That I hold on to as one of my childhood treasures.
Today I hold it and think of family.
I don't usually buy flowers, or even more so, buy flowers out of season. But yesterday while I was walking by, a local florist was putting buckets of flowers out.
Sometimes we just have to go with our impulses...
The pink hat is finished.
Without ears so that I will continue to wear it. Pink is a troublesome color for me as it is. Because I work with young children, I constantly see little girls wearing pink.
Something that I am thinking about...where does strength come from?
From yesterday's journal:
7:50ish, I took my coffee outside this morning. Oh I need to do this more often. Watched the swoop of a flicker, the crows flying south, leaving wherever they slept for the night, on their daily mission; 3 black squirrels tumbling about in one of the neighbor's trees, the odd seagull, and finally, 6 swans or snow geese. I know they weren't Canada geese as their necks were too long. The song birds were warming up, the hummingbird adding it's 2 cents. I thought the freeway noise sounded a bit like a river. A few airplanes. The sky started to streak pink, but mostly clouds. A few neighbors starting to get ready for the day. Frost on their windshields, frost on the roofs.
They were swans, I looked it up. Snow geese have shorter necks too. Both winter in this area.
Later on in the day a package arrived. I knew instantly that I needed to make a butterfly.
I have more ideas and thoughts about hearts as butterflies, hearts broke open.
I think of a poem (one that keeps surfacing in my imagination since hearing it), by Naomi Shihab Nye (found here),
"What countries may we
What lines should we all
What songs travel toward us
from far away
to deepen our days?”
I grew up knowing there were bears in the woods, bears on the beaches, bears going through the garbage at the garbage dump (It would be reported in the community newspaper, something that always seemed very funny to me...).
I remember another summer camp hike in SE Alaska that my brothers and I went on where we wore bells and sang for a good part of the hike...one of the rules for living around bears is make lots of noise so that you don’t surprise them.
When we moved to Washington (where bears are still a possibility but less likely in the areas where I have lived) my bedroom was located at the front part of a daylight basement, with the windows pretty much at ground level. I can remember (age 10) laying on my bed in the dark thinking the bears were outside the window and that I needed to lay very still so they wouldn’t notice me. Another bear rule, for brown bear and Grizzly bear only, play dead if necessary.
This was also a stage of my life that I was sure there was something scary under my bed and that if I let my foot dangle over the edge while I was sleeping that it would be grabbed and awful things would happen. I am so thankful I never shared that with my brothers. Sure enough one of them would have been under my bed waiting for me to fall asleep...
This year I decided to participate in Carla Sonheim's 365 day class. Like my friend at handstories, I realized very quickly that a drawing assignment was going to take me right to a Jude inspired beast...
Still in progress.
Vulnerability has been on my mind, still thinking about how and what we share. How it ties to taking risks, being willing to get lost occasionally. About being willing to be a beginner.
Found this morning in Rebecca Solnit's book, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, "Between words is silence, around ink whiteness, behind every map's information is what's left out, the unmapped and unmappable."
I revisited making crackers, this time adding sesame seeds (stirred into the flour not as a topping). The crackers are really best rolled out as thin as possible but the cookie cutters are so much fun to play with.
9:04 AM and it is 34 degrees F this morning. Icy snow on the ground. Windy.
While I was outside taking care of the chickens this morning, I was buzzed by a hummingbird; probably the one that has been hanging out in the garden.
He was moving fast. I hope he had somewhere warm to go.
Earlier this week I stepped outside to bring Lola in and saw one of the ravens that live in my neighborhood park chasing off a hawk.
Field notes. I wonder about my need to document the world around me.
Is it part of making meaning in this world?
28 minutes passed between dawn and the moment that the sun came through a window, into my home. 28 rows of purple/red to knit on the liminal scarf in honor of today.
And there are stars to stitch...
Joining in....Sitting by the fireplace to mend a blanket.
It needs lots of mending, Lola has loved it well.
This is my cowboy quilt, inspired by Cole Porter's song, "Don't Fence Me In (David Byrne's version)."
"Give me land, lots of land and the starry skies above..."
I'll be back to the kitchen table tomorrow.
One morning, standing at the bus stop, I considered that the curb is a liminal place.
Liminal... a place of transition.
As a pedestrian (or a squirrel) the curb is the transition from a place of safety, to a place of risk.
Stepping off the curb is to be in movement.
Things collect along the curb...leaves, trash, water, thoughts.
Stripes for October 23rd: 2 stripes gray, 2 stripes purple and 2 stripes green.
I've realized that I need to save most of my rows for the purple if I want those stripes to be the measure of sunlight, otherwise I will have a monster scarf.
I finished stitching the lettering (Melville's quote that is in the sidebar) on this
and then cut it up to sew into a basket.
It now needs, as Jude would say, some design mending.
Also there has also been a bit of moon making...
Walnut/onion dye bath over cotton print.
I thought it would be all gray today for the liminal scarf, but no there will be a few purple stripes as well.
About 2 hours after sunrise the sun broke through.
The winds last night weren't nearly as strong as forecast,
were even less than the highest gust on Friday (67 MPH).
I think one of my favorite things about weather is that it is still rather unpredictable.
Not completely knowable until it is experienced.
And that it is something we all share.
The moon too, is something that we share.
This was my second attempt at a moonflower.
The first try was too big and a good reminder to work smaller,
keep it simple.
The moon cloth is from Jude.
I knew it wanted to be a flower right away.
Today I dyed this.
Onion skin over indigo.
The goal was to make a moon but I think it wants to be a sun...
Yesterday I was gone from home for a long time...
Lola has kept a close eye on me today.
Her work for the day I suppose.
The spider's are busy this week, will be busy now.
It's the season.
This morning one wove a web across my entry way.
I needed through so I broke the web, but felt bad about it.
The spider had worked hard all morning creating it's web.
I am stitching a quote by Herman Melville on to a piece of cloth. It's one that I keep in my side bar:
"We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men, and among these fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects."
Today I discovered a new poem to add to my favorites while listening to an interview with Naomi Shihab Nye.
From "Cross that Line" (which can be read or heard here):
"What countries may we
What lines should we all