i think this is Enough. i don't want to cross the bottom, close it in. this feels right.
and now, i don't know about these scraps. tomorrow.
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10 responses to “a love letter and more Kantha”
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hi grace…i don’t know about those scraps either. do you like
them just because of the color? or the contrast to the loom and to
the Kantha? or what? do they have any Meaning? either stated
or just felt?
love, selfLikeLike
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Thril again to rhythm of kantha here!
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this is great Grace
also love selfLikeLike
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is that sweet grass? i love that smell..
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hey grace. thank you back.
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how is it you are so Tuned to that?????
love,LikeLike
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the rhythm is the same. every time. it’s interesting,
i notice the rhythm and think…i could do this
faster
but then after a faster stitch or two i find self
right back
in a purposeful slow rhythm
it’s interestingLikeLike
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it is.
it is about 20 years old and still fragrant.
when i went back to Michigan when the grandson was born,
i ended up living in a communal house of i guess 6 people.
one of them was Lee. he was the most beautiful young
man. maybe 10 years younger than me. or more. he had
golden hair that went down to his butt. and he would
wander, naked, in the very large yard behind the house.
Liz, the young woman i knew and i would lust over him.
Lee liked men. We spent endless hours in the most loving
and really Funny conversations with him about how he was
wasting himself. How he just didn’t understand what a
gift he was, to ANY woman. how he was cheating us. how
we would so much like to make him understand this….
but no and i remember him with such a soft and loving
feeling. He tended little wild gardens of Sweet Grass
along the Huron River and braided them. like this one.
like his hair when he was not wandering all wild and
naked. he sold them at that store i part owned. maybe
he still does? who knows. but it is a beautiful “movie”
when i remember Lee. when i smell the scent of this braid.LikeLike
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hey, jude
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i love these memories. i especially love them when im standing near someone who thinks im an old lady. i can look back at things in my mind that fill me with pleasure, lust or just joy. no one knows but me.
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windthread 
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