the light and magic of the winter solstice

View from the kitchen sink last Sunday morning.

On the three season porch.

On my way down the hill, headed to my Mumsie’s on Wednesday. (She’s got good news from her doc!)

An iconic image, that I just love.

A garland on the bridge over the Onion River in Montpelier.

Spotted at Rebel Heart Collective in Montpelier. SWOON!

Danish style sandwiches at our book group supper. Did you read Meet Me at the Museum yet? I gave it 5 stars.

Progress on the solstice quilt.

“Pumpkin patch” yarn from Junction Fiber Mill down in White River Junction. (I had a tour with my friend Sue a few weeks back)

Please be sure to share your sparkle with the world, dearest ones! May you find renewal, hope and light as we slide along with the sun into longer days. xo

cocoa and the keyboard

Hello friends. We are waiting to see what will happen here in Vermont, as we sit amidst several severe weather alerts. Mostly we are worried about heavy rain falling on a deep snowpack, and rivers clogged with ice. Just a few weeks ago we were experiencing drought conditions. We are not alone. These bizarre weather conditions haunt many places, with a variety of not-so-nice possibilities. *sigh* (Errands put off for a few days as we wait for daybreak tomorrow to see how we have fared.)

And so, I made a mug of hot chocolate and decided to sit down and have a bit of a catch up with you.

I have a treat for you! My buddy, Kim Roberts, from our days together at Earlham has been reading Ted Kooser’s book and has been illustrating the poems as she goes along. Kim has given me permission to share a few here at sewandsowlife. If you would like to see more (they are really beautiful), and you have an instagram account, she shares them at kkr.explores.art

Watching Kim’s gorgeous work unfold each day has renewed my appreciation of Kooser’s words. Thank you, Kim, so much for allowing me to share some of them here.

Now that there is snow cover (at least for now) the Fish and Wildlife folks have given the OK for bird feeders once again, hoping that the bears have found their way into hibernation. I trundled off to Agway and bought bags of seed and blocks of suet. Some of our first guests were the wild turkeys who roam in gangs up here on the hill. I often spot them scratching in the cut corn fields, as they glean their own bits of cobs. Wilma and Cora become quite animated when they hear the birds coming.

Batman has been cranking out his handmade wreaths, keeping his workshop cozy with the vintage wood stove. I decorated one for our porch with a few dried orange slices, star anise and cinnamon sticks. I noticed today that one of the cheeky red squirrels helped itself to a holiday treat. :-)

I started this quilt years and years ago and I’m determined to finish it by the solstice. Because it’s what I’m calling my solstice quilt. Cora and I have been fiddling with the layout on my design wall. When we lived in CT, we had the sweetest quilt shop just over the state border in Somers, NY. Called The Country Quilter, I took many a class there and made some wonderful friends. Owned and operated by a mother daughter team, it was a spot that inspired me whenever I stepped inside. Jane Davila and her mom moved on to other things, but their warmth and encouragement have stayed with me. Simply Seminole, written by Dorothy Hanisko provided the base for a class there. This is my third version of the method. We’ll see if I can get it all put together by next week!

I have some book updates to share with you. On our way out to Detroit, Batman and I listened to The Exchange, by John Grisham via Libro.com. Nothing like a bit of intrigue to help the miles roll under the tires! Then, on my way down to MA, solo, I listened to A Croft in the Hills, by Katherine Stewart, which renewed my dreams of living in Scotland. It’s a lovely story, read by Ruth Urquhart, whose accent was “just the ticket” as my Gram used to say.

My Mumsie did well with her procedure and I am headed back down to MA next week for her follow up appointment. Then we will exhale.

I’ve been visiting the children’s room at our local library…this time of year just makes me want to hold beautifully illustrated kid’s books in my hands. It has for years and years. The special Christmas Eve gift of a book as a kid must have stuck with me. Do you know the work of Sophie Blackall? Oh my goodness…her books are visual treasures. It’s hard to pick a favorite, but The Farmhouse is what got me started. Sophie’s website is full of goodies, so if you might enjoy a trip down the internet rabbit hole, she’s your gal. Also…if you listen to this story on npr, you’ll just have to find the book and enjoy it yourself!

As the days melt into one another as they do in December, I hope you are finding quiet moments to breathe and appreciate what is hopeful and lovely around you. It’s usually there if we pause and look for it.

Hugs, me.

a quick update

Friend speaks my mind. Feeling a bit squeezed. How about you?

Hello dearest readers. We’ve just returned from an epic road trip to Detroit and back to see all four kids, their partners, five grandkids and a dear old buddy from our Earlham days (hi Tracy and Ona.) On the way home, we re-experienced our journey from two years ago when a huge blizzard blew up around the Great Lakes, sending us on a more southern route. It was a l-o-n-g day of driving, and we got home to a snowy driveway, but all is well. It was great to get swept up into the busyness of life with little kids here there and everywhere. They are such treasures!

How about you? Have you caught your breath and steered yourself into December?

I’m headed right back out on the road this morning to help my mom navigate a medical issue. She’s pretty tough at 92, but I’ll be glad when we get this one behind us.

I’ve been feeling a lot like Wilma, above, trying to cram myself into a box of limited time, energy and space.

Ted Kooser continues to be a help. And I’ve decided to return to the habit of writing each night before I go to bed…three gratitudes and three accomplishments for the day and three aspirations for tomorrow.

I’ll be back soon friends, once I’ve settled down from all this coming and going. Hang in there. Look for the light wherever you go, better yet, BE THE LIGHT.

xo

finding comfort

Oh, how much are you loving Ted Kooser’s words? I’ve read along with his Winter Morning Walks for many years, and still, I find something new each time.

And Saint Mary…Mary Oliver. She has been a constant companion these last few weeks.

And Rebecca Solnit and her wonderful Hope in the Dark. I’ve pulled it out of the stack by my bedside and find sanctuary there, just as I have many times before. Some writers are like anchors, aren’t they, tethering us to some sense of sanity.

Hannah Nunn’s recent blog post was a real comfort, too.

This is a stack of my tried and trues, mixed in with our book group’s next few months of reading, in case you are curious.

• December Meet me at the Museum, by Anne Youngson

• January Sandwich, by Catherine Newman

• February, Square of Sevens, by Laura Shepherd-Robinson

  I’m delighted that two of these books were recommended to me by blog reader Gail N. xo

Sometimes, taking a bit of time to drive the backroads of Vermont with a destination in mind is just the right way to lift the spirits. The folks at Silloway were busy splitting and stacking wood to fuel their evaporators for next spring’s sap. There are multiple stacks all around the sugar house, creating a classic scene of Vermont life.

We took a quick trip over to Portland Maine for an overnight meetup with my brother Doug and his wife Ra. We took another cruise on the mailboat out into Casco Bay, just like we did last year at about the same time. Such fun to see how islanders manage their lives via the ferries out there. Maine is pretty close to my heart, too. Good food, conversation, walks and time on the boat rejuvenated us as we are all somewhat weary these days.

Driving along the ridge at sunset last week. I had to stop. And Batman and I keep a close eye on the night sky these days, too.

So many ways to push away the angst…We potted up bulbs to force through the winter and they are snug in the root cellar until we bring them up in waves to bloom on the windowsills here. I strung some new twinkle lights over the windows in the kitchen. I found two new to me artists and thought you might like them too. Oh Happy Dani creates lovely, hopeful goodies. And Vermonter Elisa, who’s tagline is As Little Cooking as Possible, does sweet and thoughtful line drawings.

Colored pencils and coloring books are in a pile of soothing possibilities in my studio. Along with small Sashiko projects. Do you know of the Brambly Hedge books? They have brought me comfort lately, too. With a cup of steaming Scottish tea.

And of course, my friend Anne has some lovely words on her blog, My Giant Strawberry.

If any of you, dearest readers, would like to drop a note in the comments to share your thoughts and suggestions on how we can navigate the next few months, do!

I just found a sticker and put it on my water bottle. “This is a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.” -Maya Angelou

My new mantra. xo

perhaps you will find this to be helpful, too.

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.

the road ahead

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

indigo skies

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

holding on and letting go

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

liminal times

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. )

taking a quiet day...

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.