The last sliver of sunset from our place. With Venus rising. Our neighbor’s pond looks like a mirror in the darkness.
I have recently discovered Shannon Watts, and her piece “The Sacred Pause Between the Election and What Comes Next” really struck a chord for me. I hope you will find comfort in Shannon’s words too, dearest readers.
Walking on the road as the sun sets and the first quarter moon hangs in the sky.
For those of you following along, today marks the first entry in Ted Kooser’s book, Winter Morning Walks: one hundred postcards to Jim Harrison. It’s not raining here in Vermont, but I did capture an old barn. xo
On Election Day I sequestered myself in my studio and made a table runner, clearly influenced by the season around me. I used hand dyed fabric made with plants from the yard and garden, I used scraps from sentimental projects and I used both fabric manipulated by shibori resist, and tatami-zome flower pounding techniques. This project soothed my soul and reflects the calm I was trying to create.
Here are some words I have found to be helpful these days…
“Joy is a decision, a really brave one, about how you’re going to respond to life.” -Wess Stafford
“Be the reason someone feels welcomed, seen, heard, valued, loved and supported.” -author unknown
“Be a raft or a lifeboat or a ladder” -Rumi
“The secret to change is to focus all of your energy not on the old, but on building the new.” -Socrates
“Creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence.” -Osho
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive, to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” -Marcus Aurelius
“We live on a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?” -Thegoodvibe.co
Dearest readers, I hold thoughts of you so very close to my heart. I send you light and love and hope…none of that has changed one little bit.
xo
Attend to what love requires of you.*
*An advice from New England Quakers. On a gut wrenching day, I have been sitting with these words. xo
On Saturday, we went to the last outdoor farmer’s market of the season up in Montpelier. There were curvaceous squash, dependable root veggies, like the beets and carrots. There were gorgeous stalks of Brussels sprouts. The greens, like bok choy, tatsoi, spinach and kale were glistening after a rain shower. The leeks, scallions and shallots were auditioning for savory soup pots. There were potters, a cheesemaker and cider and maple syrup vendors. Grab and go food caused waves of steam to tempt our noses. Bittersweet, these days of letting go of this wonderful community of farmers, who have produced bounty even after more summer flooding.
I loved, loved, loved the double rainbow that arched over the American flag, just down the road from Vermont’s beautiful state house. Hope. Friends, it’s all about hope!
We woke up to a confectioner’s sugar coating of snow on Monday morning, and so, of course, I squealed. It was gone by lunchtime, but it was a teaser, for sure. And today it’s 72 degrees. Disconcerting, for sure.
Batman grew peppers in the hoop house, and I finally strung them and hung them in the kitchen. They are so pretty, and are waiting for winter dishes. Batman made the garlic crib for me years ago, and I love it. Artwork by British artist Rachel Grant. You can find the print here.
Chipmunk in the crabapple tree.
Leaving the flower garden for the birds and insects to snack on. Clean up can wait til the spring.
The days have been softened by the mist and fog, creating the perfect mood for this time of year. Halloween. Day of the Dead, Samhain, All Soul’s Day. When we let go of what no longer serves us, and we hold on tight to what we believe in.
Batman had a bit of fun…
I found two reads to be especially helpful as we skid into Election Day.
Krista Tippet sent her “On Being” newsletter earlier this week, and the title of her piece had me at hello. Stitching What Lies Beyond is worth your time, I promise. And my old fave, Hannah Nunn, has some words of comfort too, with photos to mediate with. Find her blog post here.
This time of year prompts a shift in our kitchen. I like to pull out cookbooks and gather new recipes to try and I cull my pantry, looking for things that need to be used up. I check on our seed sprouting supplies. We shift to soups and stews and hot breakfasts. I love to make “hippy banana bread” with a recipe from Shutterbean, you can find it here. Since there are just two of us here, and we can’t eat the whole loaf before it spoils, I slice the bread, put bits of parchment paper between slices and put the loaf in a ziplock bag and into the freezer. Later, we can take a few slices at a time and warm them up on the griddle.
I’d like to remind all of us that the sun will come up on Wednesday morning, the pets will need to be fed, our mugs of coffee/tea will still be a comfort nestled in our hands. We will still have good and decent work to do. We will still find sanctuary in the inhale and the exhale of our breaths.
I’ll be voting in person, and I will be delighted to vote for Kamala. I do not love everything she has to say, but the contrast with the other candidate cannot be starker. And the consequences of skipping the vote are unforgivable. And in closing, let me tell you that I will be deeply grateful to have another chance to cast a vote for our beloved Bernie.
See you on the flip side, dearest readers.
Hang on to hope, light, courage and VOTE!
xo
0n the way down to town.
The bluest of blues.
Across the road from the Meeting House.
Along the stone wall, at the edge of our property.
At the top of Rolling Rock Rd, looking down toward home.
Our neighbors’ cattle, with rose hips in the foreground.
Birches in the light of the full Hunter’s Moon.
The full moon and a bird at dawn last week.
Christopher’s trees, bearing witness.
The leaves have been drifting down from the trees for days, and last night such a wind arose that we all knew what we would wake up to…bare trees and carpets of leaves. This time, as the foliage winds down and “stick season” eases in, feels so very poignant. The pagan in me senses the thinning of the veil between this world and the one that hovers just beyond.
I’m reading Thin Places by Kerri ní Dochartaigh (I found it via The Traveling Bookbinder, you can read Rachel’s review here.) Snuggled in with my first cup of tea in the morning, this book fits right in with the season…
Our brave and resilient fuchsia is still blooming, despite a few hard frosts.
Our sweet girls were entertained by a chipmunk who found its way all the way to the top of the crabapple. The apples are fermenting as the frost changes their chemistry. All sorts of birds are gorging on the last of the crabapples, rose hips, and rowan berries.
Batman caught this robust neighbor on his game camera the other night. Helping itself to apples from our trees, this hungry bear was waaaaay too close to our house. Seems like all the critters are fattening up for the winter ahead.
I stitched another “origami pouch” but changed up the lining fabric. What a difference it makes! If you are looking for the free template, read this through and look for the link provided. Click on the link to be directed to the template.
When the first hard frost was forecast, Batman ran out and covered the last of the indigo. The next day I tried some more tataki-zomé or flower pounding. These are in a stash of supplies for my studio sew-a-thon I have scheduled for myself on November 5th.
Svetlana Sotak’s book That Handmade Touch is full of fun and easy projects. I’ve made a bunch of these fold over pouches and decided I needed one for on-the-go projects. The birch fabric is from Ink and Spindle, long tucked away in my favorite fabric stash. (You can read about our daughter Gretta’s internship at Ink and Spindle here.)
According to the Oxford dictionary, liminal is an adjective… “occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold”.
SO! The season here in Vermont, with its changing landscape and feasting animals, is certainly liminal.
And on the almost-eve of the elections, the times are most certainly liminal for these United States.
I continue to navigate the days with stitching, reading, staying in touch with friends, appreciating this gorgeous neighborhood, doing volunteer work, taking the news in very small doses, hanging with Corazón and Wilma and Batman. Yesterday, I strung beads with Maggie via Zoom and heard all about how first grade is going. Our book group has gotten into learning to play mahjong (thinking of you, Martha!) as a distraction from politics and in anticipation of the long winter ahead.
So friends, I am with you in spirit. I hold my breath with you. I try so hard not to feed the fear. It does not deserve our attention. Let us go outside tonight and look up at the sky and get some perspective. And be fully present to the liminal times we are navigating.
xo
(FYI…I’ve been answering your comments on the day I post a new blog entry. )
I try, as often as I can, to remember the first people who walked this land. Those who foraged and hunted and sheltered on this land, those who lived gently on this land. I love this spot where the Abenaki were the traditional caretakers of the land and waters in Vermont. They call this region “Ndakinna” which means “homeland”.
Dyeing with plants from our gardens here at our “bit of earth” is my very humble homage to the people who lived here before colonialism changed the course of history. When I gather bark and catkins and acorns from the woods and yard for my dye pots, I am aware of the threads that connect me to a simpler way of life. I meditate on the grace of the October foliage, the bounty from our gardens and the wild animals we share this space with. And sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to live among the Abenaki here in Ndakinna.
Lately, I’ve been back and forth to Massachusetts a bunch of times, to help my Mumsie deal with some appointments, and to celebrate her 92nd birthday. I stayed with Doug and Ra, who open their hearts and home to me anytime I need a place to rest my weary body and soul.
This weekend, we were able to host them for a few days. Ra and I went out to gather the marigolds that are still blooming with abandon. Our hard frost is coming soon, but until then, a few hardy plants are still showing off! We strung a bunch of garlands and shared them with friends. I kept a few for a midwinter dye pot, when I’ll need a bit of cheer.
This is the cut paper display on the bulletin board in the lobby at my Mumsie’s assisted living community. She designs and cuts out a theme each month. Her work makes me smile each time I see it.
Little Tilly turned two this past week, and I stitched her a geranium dress using a pattern by Made by Rae. I’ve used this pattern a number of times and I love the way it goes together. This time I purchased the expansion pack, with included an option with sleeves. (This was a bit bit trickier to put together!) I found the fabric at Notion in Montpelier, (designed by Jen Hewett). I took the collar with me, which I had cut from fabric I dyed with madder root from the garden, hoping to find a print to match it. Bingo!
As the election grows closer, I realize I’ve been doing a good bit of self soothing. Reading? yes. Cooking? yes. Tidying up? yes. Sewing? yes. Where are you finding calm and solace?
I found a free pattern for an “origami pouch” via Indigobird design. Made from two T-shaped pieces of fabric, five pockets are created by folding and stitching. This is an excellent beginner’s project, and a quick gift to stitch up. I adapted the pattern by swapping a “scrunchy” and button for the snap described in the pattern. The parasol fabric came via snail mail from a quilting buddy from our days in Connecticut. xo The button is from my grandmother’s button box…vintage, for sure!
I listened to The Glassmaker by Tracy Chavalier while I was driving back and forth to my Mumsie’s, and I’m reminded that her writing is such a good companion. I also listened to James by Percival Everett, a retelling of the story of Huckleberry Finn. Our book group gathered on Friday night to discuss the book and we decided we will need a quick and breezy read as we get through the next few weeks. The Thursday Murder Club, by Richard Osman looks like it will fit the bill. And It looks like Netflix is in production on a film version with a “killer cast”
Above Ground, poetry by Clint Smith, has been in my bag, ready to distract me while waiting for appointments. His work is exquisite. I thank our daughter Hannah for sending a copy along to me.
Head’s up… I often read Winter Morning Walks, by Ted Kooser, day by day, and I think I’ll do it again this year. I may try to snap some photos to pair with his words, and I invite you to follow along, too. The book starts with an entry on November 9th, so you have a few weeks to find the book.
As a closing gratitude, I am holding Hibakusha in the light. I lit a candle in their honor, and shall keep their legacy close to my heart.
My Mumsie’s favorite colors are in the turquoise/aqua neighborhood, so of course they made the cover.
She loves nature and tiny things, and foxes, too.
Tiny mice are some of her faves. Think Brambly Hedge. And my Mumsie loves to sit in the courtyard of her assisted living community in the morning to listen to the birds, so of course, there is a bird page.
She has an impressive community via snail mail, so I stitched a page to honor her devotion to stamp and envelope. And she has been a maker since she was a little girl. I learned to sew at her shoulder, tucked up next to her black Singer sewing machine. We come from a strong generational line of stitchers. :-)
And on the back of her book I recorded the date, because her 92nd birthday is in a week and she plans to live to be a hundred. This book may end up being the first in a series!
Do you remember the 100 days of stitching book I made via Anne Wood? You can see my version here.When I took it to show to my Mumsie, she seemed entranced by it, so I promised to make her a stitch book of her very own. Above, you’ll see the spreads, below, the details…
This is my Mumsie, to a tee!
I used a bit of selvedge to make the vegetation on the forest floor.
Avocado dyed linen, indigo dyed vintage raw silk, bits of birch bark from windblown trees. Tilda mouse.
Birds, William Morris leaves and a feather from the yard.
Notecard from artist Emily Lex. Scraps from different projects and a faux stamp made with pinking shears.
A few notions from my Mumsie’s supplies.
These little books are such fun to make! And it was a delight to set this one in my Mumsie’s hands and say, “For you, Mumsie!”
xo
Our book group has really grown on me. A group of ten women, many of them retired public school teachers, have been meeting once a month for ages. I joined them maybe 7 or 8 years ago. We have mourned losses, celebrated successes, brought one another “covered dishes” in times of stress and we met via Zoom through Vermont’s very strict pandemic lockdown. We share recipes and gardening advice. I’ve read books I would not have read on my own. I gave many a thumbs up, but there were some real thumbs down too! :-) And can we put together a feast! Each month we share a potluck supper based on the book we have read that month. The warm circle of friendship we create each month feels like sanctuary to me.
In August we read Inside Out and Back Again, by Thanhhà Lai, a wonderful, quick read. In a young adult novel, Lai describes the journey of a young Vietnamese girl who flees to America at the fall of Saigon. Written in free verse, I wanted the story to go on and on.
In September, we decided to follow up Lai’s book with The Women, by Kristin Hannah. A wee bit predictable in places, it still held my attention. The story of Frankie, the heroine, pulls readers into the lives of nurses who served in Vietnam and their lives after they returned stateside. “There were no women in Vietnam” was the official propaganda. But of course, there were. No matter which generation you grew up in, this book will open your eyes to a turbulent time in US history.
Did you know this is Banned Books Week? All Boys Are Not Blue, by George M Johnson has been on my “want to read list” for ages. It’s the second most banned book in America right now. And it is a godsend to any young person wondering about who they are. I give it five stars.
I also read The Rachel Incident, by Caroline O’Donoghue. One of my younger friends declared it one of her top three favorite books of 2023. I really enjoyed it, and my mind is still tossing around some of the choices made by characters in the story. There’s a lot to ponder in this novel.
Our town sponsors several book groups, a few are hosted by the library and there’s one at the senior center. Do you read with a book group? Do you prefer the privacy of your own book list? Or, like me, a bit of both? What are you reading, dearest friends? Drop a note in the comments!
Are you familiar with The Peace Pole Project? You can read about it here. Our library installed a peace pole before we moved to Vermont. It aged, the post rotted and it was retired to a spot behind the library during Covid. Some patrons recently asked about its whereabouts and a few of us worked to re-place it on the library lawn. One person drove a bit south to buy a new cedar post, Batman and I took the old one apart, cleaned the panels carefully as best we could, gave the back of the panels a fresh spray of white paint and attached the repaired panels to the new post.
Another friend of the library dug a hole and planted the peace pole back into the lawn. Sometimes it takes a village to get something done, each person adding their own light to the next. The renewed peace pole stands as a gentle reminder in the heart of the village. May Peace Prevail On Earth.
My friend and I called this color “creamsicle”.
At today’s closing gathering.
The artist, Jeremy Jarvis.
Last week I helped paint a mural and had such fun bumping elbows with friends and strangers (who became painting pals) alike! Artist Jeremy Jarvis facilitated a community painting project. Over 80 community members worked in shifts last Tuesday, to paint this gorgeous mural encouraging a love of reading and learning. Installed at Head Start’s Brook Street School in Barre VT, project partners include the Aldrich Public Library in Barre, and the Good Samaritan Haven. It was funded by the Vermont Arts Council.
I do love a chance to see something hopeful happen in our communities. Reading, repairing and painting were my holy trinity this month.
October will be filled with stitching, with oh so many projects in the queue! Sew and sow life will be fueled by Vermont foliage and softer light and the pleasure of gathering inward. See you then!
xo
At long last, my favorite season is here! Batman has been brush-hogging the meadow and we’ve been chipping the branches from lots of tree-trimming. Chilly nights, foggy mornings, crisp and clear days, the scent of freshly mown hay, fall bounty at the farmers’s market and in our gardens. Our kitchen island is brimming with Roma tomatoes and Batman can hardly keep up with making them into his signature sauce. The peppers that kept the Romas company in the hoop house are coming on strong, too. The onions are drying on the porch, the garlic are in a basket in the room of requirement and the madder and indigo have been processed.
Look at these crazy madder roots! They provide the most gorgeous orangey/pinks. *see below
After soaking for two days in the dye pot, here are the fabrics hanging to dry in the woodshed.
The color tones down a bit once the fabric dries, but, gosh, this is a spectacular batch!
indigo leaves, fresh from the garden. *see below
I love to hang a bunch of indigo blossoms on the front door. They feel like a talisman to me.
This batch of indigo dyed fabric was lovely—the second batch, not so much. Dyeing with fresh indigo leaves is labor intensive with no guarantee of outcomes. After a good bit of thought, I’ve made a note in my dye journal to take a break from indigo next year. *sigh*
Mirrored cats. Wilma and Cora on the windowsills.
Balanced on the edge of the couch.
A basket face-off in the studio.
Two “meatloaves”, side by side.
Little curl, big curl.
The Equinox reminds us of balance and realignment and reflection. Our two rescue girls, Corazón and Wilma seem to model this with their daily lives. Part of the day, they do their own things, other times, they are lovingly paired in the same space. When I spent some time in my studio today, mapping out the time between now and the winter solstice, the two of them planted themselves on the sheet of brown paper I was working on. Not helpful, but also very sweet. How well these furry friends know how to live life. In the moment, with affection and grace.
Sweet and Crunchy Salmon, from bowls!, by Molly Watson
Autumn Reset Button Salad, by Shutterbean. I substituted pears from our tree for the apple, and used delicata squash from the gardens. I swapped spinach for the arugula.
This time of year eases me into trying new recipes. Grain Bowls, by Anna Shillinglaw Hampton is another gem that helps me shift gears. There’s something about having all sorts of good stuff in one bowl that makes me feel balanced, too. Maybe it’s how the bowl fits into my cupped hand, maybe it’s seeing the patchwork of ingredients, playing so well together…
We were delighted to have a day here at our “bit of earth” with dear buddies from our days at Earlham College. How we have all changed/stayed the same! We spoke of retirement communities, grandchildren, volunteer activities, hobbies…and yet it felt like we were back on campus, in the mid-70’s, just hanging out. These are the relationships that carry us through these challenging times…relationships with old friends, neighbors, family over Zoom, with colleagues in committee meetings…
As Neil Young sang, “It’s gonna take a lot of love to change the way things are…”
I’ll be back soon with some fun community projects and some book talk. And next week, look for pictures of the book I stitched for my Mumsie.
Wishing you balance and peace and hope, dearest readers…as we step into the beauty of this season.
*instructions for dyeing with fresh indigo leaves, here
*instructions for dyeing with madder root, here
xo
Outdoor loom
A while back, I shared with you, a list of things I might want to try this summer. Making an outdoor loom was on the list. Gretta helped me set up the frame between two trees when she was up here one afternoon. A few weeks later, I set up the warp string. I used old daylily stems, birch bark shed naturally from a tree, black-eyed Susans, cedar fronds and Baptisia leaves for the weft. I’ve long been fascinated with the work of British artist Andy Goldsworthy, whose art is often left out for nature to alter it. I’m curious to see how the wind and snow up here will change my little loom.
Flax in Vermont
There’s a wonderful group of folks in East Barnard, who are “committed to stewarding the land and building community through the process of growing flax for fiber”. You can read about them at Green Mountain Linen. This weekend they held the East Barnard Linen Fair and I wandered along dirt roads to join the fun. I reconnected with an old friend, who owns the field where the flax is being grown, and now I’m even more intrigued about the process. The website is filled with gorgeous photos and lots of info about the work they are undertaking. Much of their work is an effort to “weave the world together” with partnerships with folks in other countries where flax is grown, harvested, processed and woven. :-)
Baskets at the Portland Museum of Art (Maine)
Plain on the outside, brilliant on the inside!
This image was created with porcupine quills on birch bark.
“Relief print and embossment printed on Charbonelle Silver ink with chine-collē on indigo Gampi paper with handwoven Wabanaki basket by the artist on gray Rives RFK paper.”
I’d been wanting to see this exhibit all summer. This weekend, Batman and I met up with my brother Doug and sister-in-law Ra in Portland ME. We spent Sunday afternoon looking, in amazement, at the baskets of Jeremy Frey.
Read about this remarkable artist here.
Whether we’re weaving fiber or stories or lives…let us be reminded that strength can be found in the ways we go under and over, back and forth, tugging to close in the empty spaces. We are bound, all of us, by the communities we weave together.
Do you feel woven into the world, dearest reader? Where? How? Or not?
xo