when this Cloth was beginning to happen, the word violet kept arising as i sat across the way from where it hung on the ClothWall. kept thinking…i don't want purple here. but then after a time realized that it was the word Violet. not purple. Violet. and i began looking for a violet scrap. Finally…finding. and it was Right. Violet. i don't know why. there is a reason.
this morning….i trimmed the Daisy Bush and here….hidden…was this…Native Penstemon and things were so Still, i was able to photograph the vine that extends out, over a foot horizontally in mid air. Color here not quite what it IS, which is, Violet.
came back from Garden and did things…put tools away, cleaned the mineral feeders, Talkie's feeder, things like that until it was Hot and coming in, turned on the little battery fan and brought down the Cloth to the table. Threaded the needle, sat and looked at the Violet scrap and the one last space that is waiting for some particular scrap. And smiled, because i realized for the first time that the Violet scrap was next to the small scrap of what i have for years called the Coyote Cloth, that i used over and over for bodies of the dolls i used to make…human shaped bodies with coyote mask faces, from this wonderful WW2 kimono from Rag Stock in Minneapolis. The huge warehouse of all manner of fabric where Prince used to shop. The color….Mars Violet to me….the Mars Violet and Paynes Grey oil paints i used over and over for those mask faces and i could…smell…the paint and it was wonder Full. and i listened as sirens came and went on past up the near highway…police….and suddenly BLARRING LOUD on the phone….FIRE. and on come the Butte County Fire Trucks now but still i listened…no Cal Fire. and tune in to the FaceBook page for Info and it's Bangor. 17 minutes away by car. no helicopters.
Far enough. Talk to Alyssia. Ok. She will call Jenny who is still at work. ears pricked. and i begin to collect things on the bench across from me at the Table. The big black Fire Bag with papers and kids drawings, titles to vehicles, photographs. The little ukulele zipper bag from Tina for toothbrush, tweezers, itch cream is always ready on the bathroom sink counter. My "purse", wallet address book. The camping knife that has a fork and spoon. Big Blue Goat Book with all the registrations and vet records already under a seat in the minivan (that still remains nameless) year round.
and
i am not. not ready. have let it blur through the months since the last First Evac sirens of the Season. in self preservation, you just let it blur and fade. out of a need for relief. But time again to let it sharpen, to sharpen…verb, to sharpen. Tomorrow again, i will
decide.
Decide for 2022. What goes and what gets left behind. A lot depending on the amount of time there is from the Blaring Alert and the need to get OUT of here. Goats first, Talkie, Puppie , Us and Tay. Whatever else there's time and space for. The first 3 years i was here, different every time. Last year we didn't need to go. in a way….it's an Opportunity. to see where i am with Things. Stuff. My belov~ed stuff. oh…my Stuff. And as i Listened, waiting to know, i stitched this Universe Cloth. Jude's invisible baste. after about an hour and a half the Warnings and Orders were lifted. Forward movement was contained. I fed Goats and fed self. Today is ok.
double click the pic
color on my phone is WAY WRONG. cannot know till it's published….but just so Way Wrong. bummer.
windthread 
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