windthread

original inspiration got bumped off,  fell.    now waiting.

my stenographer's notebook,  where i talk to mySelf.   This morning,  waiting for tea water to boil.  Looking at this latest Cloth.  It's my birthday.  I'm  not much for birthdays.  since a child.   This one though for reasons i don't even really know yet,  i am paying attention .    the 75th.   Seventy five years alive.  All the ways i have been Me.   Maybe these cloths are like cairns.  Marking a way to be Me that i  want   to look at closely.  Nothin for sure here,  it's still coming.   75 is old.   It's all so cliche.  

the satisfaction of this  is indefinable.   All these scraps…invisible baste…Jude Hill…..this is now ONE Thing.   It knows its self in the bibical sense.  

why are these so different.   I've made so many Cloths.  I love them all.    Why are these so different?   FEEL so different?    Easy answer is that they are just random form.   Nothing recognizable.   Not literal in any sense.   so that's one thing.   But there's more things  and i am imagining that it might have to do with what i was thinking when i woke this morning…something about just being Available for happiness.   Not,   uhhh,   imagining that i can find a sense of happiness …..by achieving something,  accomplishing something and specifically here,  with clothmaking.   

a lot of questions.

how can they go together,  the scraps?    Not ones i would have thought to choose,  but ones that "presented", spontaneously

these surprised me but again….they DO go.  Together.  

The  Collard Tree….or,  half of Her.    The Deer ate pretty much everything.  There were just stumps…leafless.

Deer seems to have moved on.   Collard Tree regroups and new leaves appear.  No Te Rindas,  Collard says.

what is this?   a prayer?   a song?   a Speaking?     

on this american holiday,  i wish.   I wish that  all living in this country could feel SAFE  within some kind of secure shelter.  Have food.   Enough food for today and the tomorrows.   I wish for Kindness to somehow grow among us,  for us to live and let live,  to do no harm.  These things would be cause for celebration.  For thanks giving.

on the 24th,  Mo brought these words to the comments:

"The compelling thing about making art-or making anything,  I suppose-is the moment when the vaporous insubstantial  idea becomes a solid there,  a thing,  a substance in a world of substances."

Audrey Niffenegger  The Time Traveler's Wife

the joy of this.  How each scrap,  "unchosen",  just placed,  with no forethought,  not chosen,  just picked up and placed on and near ,  shows itself to be of Beauty to the whole of the gathering.   Has something to give, has a spontaneous  connection and flow  to and with the others.    I am lost in the happiness of this.

at the beginning of Fire Season,  i needed some different way to try to save my scraps.    The many baskets that held them were not possible.   So…i think there were 3 of these  xtra large ziplocks?   That said they were "clear" but were blue and covered with printing.   Filled,  it was 3 ft tall,  approx.  17 "wide,  12"deep,  ie front to back and Packed tight.  The zip lock kept coming undone.   There were also 2 garbage bags,  half full.   When Rain began,  i brought this bag and the garbage bags IN from the back of the truck where they spent the summer.  Spent a chunk of time back at Amazon and tried this instead.   They arrived.  They are beautifully Clear…no color….no advertizing printing.  Just good 5 gallon clear zip lock bags.   From that one and the garbage bags,  i have loosly  filled 9 of them.   

i can SEE whats inside….i can put my hand in then   move them around.  If there is an urge,  i can empty one out and move them around even more.

ALL of these scraps, fragments,  are BeautyFULL.   Every single one.   Any combination of any of them might be SOMETHING?,  so this urge…to just put things together,   no preconceived picture,  no story,  just cloth,  with cloth.   ?????   What If i tried?

small ones…like this…that have feeling,  heart.   Making.   i want to make some.

click it.

but,   not.  Parsley.   All summer 3 clusters sat there quietly.  spindley.  only a few branches.   We use parsley a lot as a regular stir fry ingredient.  stems,  not just leaves.  not as a garnish that i'd always thought it was till we read about it.   it's more than that sprig of green at the edge of a plate.  Full of nutrients.   With the drop in temperature and the Rain,  all three are becoming robust plants.   Good to know.  Plant at B in the spring.   and these plants,  i'm almost certain will provide GREEN all winter season.   If we had kept the kale,  i think it would be doing the same thing.  

i keep saying we.   it's not, really,    it's me.   Everyone has bailed on me with Garden work.  I look forward to next time around.  I think Emrie,  being in her 4th year then will have the focus.  We'll see.   For now,  it's how i've always done it and really,  in a way, easier.  more comfortable.   the Quiet of it.    and a lot of time,  i think about my use here,  my purpose to this Hill,  it's people.  And a lot of it is simply the just going of it.  Steadfast~ness.  the love for it,  the belief in it.   the belief in love of things.  Today, i loved 3 clumps of Parsley.  a LOT.