windthread

Woke this morning with thoughts already formed,  waiting for me.    About story.  the story of    person.   and specifically,  the story of a child.  of children.    This is going to be difficult to follow.   As i think it in this moment,  it's all over,  moving,  changing.    But if i can just get enough fragments here,  i can come back and back and understand what this morning was so clear.

2 things.   Words.  Story is words.  Words telling.      and then    Story is Lived experience.   as it goes.   I wonder about how we give children a story about themselves,  even if it is our best truth….it is Our story…..Rather than give them the opportunity to create their own lived story….Listen to them tell their own story of themSelves. 

When we tell children the stories we have of them,   we weave our own selves into that.   What i would like to do at this point in time is to watch closely this tendency….with what's happening over there at Virginia Ave.   Where at this moment,  right now, are   6 children.   Two of which i have not written about.    But, 6.

i went back in Deb G's blog…beecreative.typepad.com   to her 9/27 post  #90 Return.   her log cabin square that i just LOVED so much,  so surprisingly much…  and what  i am trying to work with here is like that log cabin square…the seemingly,  to me,  disparate pieces,  NEXT to eachother….their chothers….creating this most joyfull and satisfying Whole…just touching…not going into,  just being and being next to.   And the Story occurs of its self.   

and then.   To Note this distinction at this point in time.                                                                                                                                      I am OLD NANA here.  The great grandmother.   Jenny is New Nana.  The Nana.  the Grandmother.   She steps into her shoes.  Judy Martin….Judys-journal.blogspot  today.                                                                                                                                                          "the island state is a state of remaining within one's own boundries, undisturbed,  by any external influence.  It resembles a kind of narcissism or even autism.  One satisfies all one's needs on one's own.  Only the self seems real.  "                                                       Olga Tokarezuk                                                                                                                                                                                                               it resembles a kind of autism.    This i know.   This is one of the me people that i am.   and yet……..

stand back.   weave yourself  NEXT TO….but not into.    Weave yourself into yourself.   But not into.  especially children.  NEXT To them…close and with love.   But leave them the opportunity to live their own story .  and Tell it TO you as they go.

the Cloth.  more Tree body and 3 leaves.   Understanding the meaning of the Blue.

 

 

on the left side of the Janet Chair,  on the stones.   Enlarge and it will help.  some.   I spent a long time with  Garden this afternoon.  Earlier than usual.   Wanting to give water to the Pomegranate and Fig long.  Seeping deep.     So i sat.  Thinking.  This Titmouse came and bathed.   Much fluttering and splashing then up into the Scrub Oak to fluff and rearrange. Back to bathe.   Back to branch.   3 times.   And then  some very small bird   hummingbird size went about inspecting all the watered plants  touching its beak to stems and leaves,  the metal of the tomato cages.  Their eyes are so bright.    Watching all this it occurred to me how my grief might be so different from Jeff and the childrens.   My world is the same.   The death of T,  the great heartache  for Jeff and the children…..this is in "addition to".   It is now another ummm,  layer of Everything .    For them though,  so much has been torn away,  ripped off,  is Missing.   a Gaping space where she Was.   This…if it is true,   might help in the slow mend.   I will return to it tomorrow.   

 

and just a slow More to the Tree.   Make marks.   Sit…..Look.   wait for more doing.  Just Go,  but slow.  Go slow.

i am so glad to have this Cloth.   I used the Inktense  Payne's Grey.    Payne's Grey being  "my color",  along with  Mars Violet from way back…using Oils to paint the masks of the fiber figures.   This cloth took it as very blue.  Bluer than i'd  imagined,   but it will be ok.   somehow,  more than ok.    i just can't see that yet.   

I woke this morning to face the grief.   the  LOSS.   i wandered,  wrote in the stenographers notebook all that came to mind and came away with two things.  Both very simple.   the first is that all we can do is the best we can.  One moment to the next.    The best each of us can….best to be defined only by the one doing their best.   Moment to moment.   We will see where this takes us. The second…for me.   Orient.  Each day.  For me….this is early morning as Sun rises.   To turn my face,  literally,   like a SunFlower will do.  To turn my face and orient toward  Goodness. Toward what Helps.  Toward the Well Being of the Whole.  That's it.   Simple things.   We will somehow make it through.

there is one Point of Bright Light.    Neither Emrie or Brin have ever had a friend.   Friend  as Emrie describes it,  "a real child".  it's been something like 18 months?  of Covid isolation for both of them.   at 4 years,  that being all either of them know.   But she watches things on her Kindle.   She knows,  has known that there is a different way.   Now….the result of Circumstance,  they suddenly each have a real child.   They have each other.  Or,  as my daughter Jenny and her cousin Sarah used to say….

theirchothers.   for Emrie,  it's a dream come true.  For Brin,  it might  soften the Edge.  

they Play.     I say….T….we will do the best we can.   We will.

 

 

Emrie came at 3:30 am. All she knew is that Uncle Jeff needed help.

There is Death in our family. 

Our Beauty Full,  Loving,  Steadfast    T.        A young woman.    32 years.    Wife of my grandson,  stepmother of Fate,  Mother of Brin who becomes 4 years old this month.  

i have turned  off the comments.   In this moment,  there is just nothing.   Nothing to say.

the Other meditation swing.   It's needing reorientation?   faces Away….but there also is a sense that there is some thing/one there,  sitting.  Shy.  or, ummm,  hoping to cause Wonder?    I DO watch it for movement and in these last few days,  watch SUN mark movement by shadow.  There is the shift of Light,  but it's the shift of temperature,  from HEAT in high 90's,  sometimes 100's to now 60's….    It's as if there is a pervasive Exhale.   a slow continuing Exhale.   The green leaves appearing green again.  Vital.  Lingering.    The trunks and boughs of the Trees revived from still survival to reaching UP.   One of the birds has begun singing again…not one single bird, but kind of bird.  It's the sweetest melodious song imaginable.  In the mornings and at sunset.  All this.  as Cynthia says…gentle day.   gentle day.  We are here.

 

there will be a tree.    

 

i guess  i imagined something like Jude's Redbud.   But no….it immediately was an Oak.  Of course.   So i just began.    It's around 3:30   and i looked at what is left on the first  "spool" and thought to look in the bag for more,  similar enough….2,  but stopped to think.  Split back stitch uses a lot of thread.    

This Cloth is for me and the Hill.   It's Our dream.   I can do anything.   so i thought….this is  6B graphite.   What if?   And then,  maybe…Liz….Inktense. 

at the top,  maybes for Leaves 

NOAA NWS Climate Prediction Center    A high risk for heavy precipitation is forecast on Oct 20 through Oct 22nd.  across much of Northern California.   Several inches of rainfall could yield burn scar flooding concerns , but also help to replenish reservoir levels.

then….Karla K Larsen   Butte County Fires Accidents and Crimes  on Face Book….tells us of the Mooseheart Crew of firefighters "that will make the 3,000 mile journey home to Alaska.  A 20 person Crew,  a hand crew that worked mainly night shift doing grid searches for hot spots.   On Friday they filled in dozer line  constructed  during fire suppression and created water bars to help divert water,  preventing erosion.  The members of this Bureau of Land Management contract crew  are among the thousands of firefighting personnel who have traveled great distances to help the communities impacted by the Dixie Fire.

The crew is mostly made up of firefighters from several remote Alaskan  villages surrounded by much different terrain with much smaller trees than the majestic Ponderosa Pine.

Today,  designated Indigenous People's Day to celebrate the cultures and history of Indigenous and Native Communities across the nation including Alaska Natives is the crew's last full day of work on the Dixie Fire."  

i read this.  Sit.  read this.  Again.  and again.    20 men traveling 3,000 miles to work the night crew.

human beings

what might Be here?   communication begins.   The thread,  Deb Lacativa's thread,  has been on the table for weeks.  Months really.  Gets moved around here to there,  but never put  away.   It's time now.   
and here,  you can see the other good use of the table, its formica.    those numbers….written with a 6B pencil….for making notes of things and then wiped away with windex.

 

 

What do i say.   

Jenny stayed home today.    and so….a "free day".   Saturdays are designated.   This one…free.   And so i began.

Jude Hill's invisible baste….she calls it glue stitch now.   i like Invisible.   cause it is     but what happens is   uhhhh,  i don't know….What happens is that the Invisible comes Alive.   That's close.    What happens is that 3 and then more pieces of 

cloth

become ONE.    and somehow,  become Alive.   Become an Entity.    Entity definition:  a thing with distinct and independent existence.

today.   Pico de gallo.   There are tons of jalapenos.   and tiny Jamaican hot peppers.   Jenny's man pickles them.  She likes the cucumbers little.    Taking the soil out of this potato grow bag,  i looked closely today.   The first 2/3  was the mixture of Goat manure  and garden soil from Tractor Supply.   Having never grown vegetables in pots before,  let alone grow bags,  i was unsure what might go on Inside.   But it was incredibly  Beauty Fully broken down and transformed  into a fine rich blend.   with Fragrance.   Planted the second Egyptian Walking Onion clan.   looked at the funny little rock and wood "rooms" and saw that it's very much like a Cloth….an Earth collage.   the cilantro is self seeded from last time around.  Fragrance is Pungent.

 

it also gave this.   As i finished the little terraced space,   the thought came that it's time for this cloth to begin and also  that it needed substantial  "context".    So i returned and looked for that  "context" and it's  this.  I wouldn't have thought.  but there is no doubt.   Before they get here tomorrow maybe i can baste it in place.   Closed the window under the table.  the one over the kitchen sink.   46 degrees tonight.  The Dixie Fire is 94% perimeter contained with small pockets of vegetation and needle cast still burning within.  I knock on wood…literally…many times a day.

 

summer is gone.

like in the old cartoons.  "night falls".   it doesn't ease in,  through the heat,  from "over there",    but  falls.   Finito.  I lightened this pic so there would be something to see.  In REAL,  there's nothing to see but Dark.  For the first time since maybe April i washed my hair,  my body,  INSIDE.   firing up the hot water heater when since April,  it was SUN that heated things.  Not now.  I close the windows at night.  I cannot yet bear to close the door.   soon, tho.   Tay still will not sleep in.   There are 3 new possible residents of the Night Hill.   I search for  Sounds of Sierra Nevada Foothills at night.   as just now…just outside,  close,  there is a "screeth" sound.   Not a screech owl…different.  smaller.   just outside.  Close.  it is not shy.   Another i'm pretty sure is a fox.  In a way,  this is very reassuring.  Hill is felt to be a viable Safe place.   the sounds,  when first heard are unnerving.   but only when first heard.

Emrie and i today worked on the terrace project.   We took turns using the hand pick axe to loosen the earth there,  pulling out each rock and using it to build the little wall around the space.  it's small but very   uhhhhh,   very ,   well….significant.    We undid two of the planting bags of fingerling potatoes.   She counted.  16 potatoes.  We grew…over the course of this summer,  in two Gro Bags  16 potatoes.  i smiled.   Not enough to keep us all alive.   But….we DID grow them.  16 beautiful and fine fingerling potatoes.   If you grew 16,  for sure,  if you figured it out better,  you could grow more.  i view it as a success.

Life is good.