looked at this today. When i went out for the Boro book the other day, this was there. ???? Tbe only Cloth. I don't remember making it. i just don't remember it. The words are Stand and Face in the stick house of Imagination. Where you can pray flowers where lizard watches as crow marks the passing of days and the Sunflowers spoke No te rindas, grace
i don't remember and look today and see a different liminal space. How many ways can there be?
Grace~ I do lightly remember this, but have a feeling that Marti will recall it in better detail than I can. What I am loving tonight is the “!” after your name. The words and the cloth really sing!
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Thank you for the inspiration to look up the meaning of “No te rindas.” It made me wonder if there would be any strength to be had in translating the words of encouragement in the language of my own Dutch ancestors (geef niet op) now posted next to my work desk as a reminder to keep going.
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I wanted to put the link here and then go outside, as I did in my comment on your post of 7/29/22: Your post spoke of your summer of being 77 and how important the age of 77 was to you. I’m in my 77th year now, so I went outside, in the cold, sat under the same apple tree as in my comment, the ground not as comfortable in March as it was in July.
Do we all have an age that we wonder about? For me it was 74 for that would mean that I had lived longer than my parents. My Dad died when he was 73 and my Mom when she was 67. When I turned 74, I cried;the poignancy of the day so strong in my heart.
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Mine was 54, the age my mother was when she died. She was the mother of eleven children – I am the youngest and I tried to imagine having all those children when I turned 54 and I couldn’t. I wondered where her strength came from to face each day and all the demands we made. It no longer surprises me that she didn’t have much fight left in the end, even though I know she loved each of us. My father lived into his late 90’s…I will be happy to settle somewhere in between the two of them.
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I love this Marti, knew you’d find it. I went back to read again. I notice that I wondered when my own season would be. I feel like I am still wondering. Will I ever know?
(((hugs)))
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she did. she found it.
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what a beauty full thought….in your Mother tongue….
i think in all languages would be good….
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thank you
i very much “know” the year of 77 but still, don’t
remember making the cloth…but now, there is a “feeling”
when i look at it
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i would love to hear stories of growing up in a family
of eleven
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the wondering is good
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windthread 
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