ANGST

My Bernina is back in the shop - JUST when I need it most - JUST when I have deadlines and projects to complete!  I am so frustrated with the guy who services my machine that I could bite someone.  He didn't fix it properly last time and I was too lazy to do anything about it.  Now I'm in a pickle, because yet another part needs to be ordered.  The guy that services the machine is a snake charmer.  He opens his mouth and I shudder and bite down HARD on my tongue so as not to say anything that we will both regret.  (I must find a new Bernina dealership.  No matter what.)
I'll call Mr. Charismatic-Service-Guy "Huey".  He looks at me and says, "well, after all, it IS an 830."  Yeah - and what exactly does that mean, Huey?  Well, he reminds me, "it's almost 10 years old now".  Yeah, and what is your point, Huey?  My Bernina Record is 37 years old and STILL going strong!  And I certainly didn't spend thousands of dollars for IT!  Maybe Huey should have let me know that a new Bernina only has a sewing life of 10 years or so.  Maybe I would have purchased a different brand.  

The Record had no problem chugging away on my flannel Bento Box blocks.  It isn't quiet, but there is a certain solid rhythm to its metallic machine sounds, comforting and reassuring.  You can open that bad boy up and oil it and everything clicks right back into place - no computer chips, no surprises.  

You can floor it - pedal to the metal, and it never runs off course or jams up or misbehaves.  I do love this old machine -

We had a happy reunion all afternoon.  The Record helped to take my angst away as we made good progress on the Bento blocks together.  'Nothing sews like a Bernina.  Nothing.'  (someone should remind Huey of this!)

The Bentos are kind of addictive, you know.  This flannel throw for my Dad will be finished in no time.  Once again, I have to give credit to Wanda, who really inspires me on a daily basis.  She is a maniac when it comes to piecing!  I wish that we were next door neighbors, I do.  I'd be hanging out at her house all of the time!

 I bet that she even knows how to fix HER sewing machine!      

GROWING OLD, GRACEFULLY

I took my mother to the audiologist to have her new hearing aids regulated.  She is generally pleased with the sounds that she can hear again, most importantly, the voices of her grandchildren.  My son has a very low pitch and my daughter speaks clearly, but rapidly.  Mom has struggled to keep up with these most important sounds in her world, and now, miraculously, she can hear most of what they are saying.  Telephone conversations are still difficult and perhaps always will be.  Turns out you can spend thousands on aids, but a hearing loss is just that - a LOSS.
  We got take-out at Panera (YUM) and hurried home to indulge ourselves.  We talked about a lot of things, mostly the younger days and impressions of my father.  She seems to think, and I agree, that we need to go over this stuff until it is possible to let it go.  I carry around a boat load of resentment and anger toward my father, and I know that I need to find a release for this negativity.  I listened to my mother talk for a long time and when I left, I watched her walk from her mailbox up the steep gravel driveway to her garage door.  She still holds herself upright and she walks without any aid.  But there is a fragile set to her narrow shoulders that I hadn't seen before today.  She's struggling to hold mind and body together and she does this, for the most part, all by herself.  She is graceful and brave and loving and it breaks my heart that she is so alone.

  Should I send this guy over to live with her?  They could eat cheese and ice cream and take good long naps together.  My wolfie dog - how I would miss him!!!!  And, truth be told, she'd never welcome him in because he is a hair bag!   Those canine tumble weeds that roll under the furniture and throughout the house would just do her in!  (This is the woman who scrubs the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush!)  You cannot be too house proud if you live with dogs.  It's just the damn truth, no way around it.
There's been little fiber business going on.  I've started a Bento Box Quilt for my father, and have had to put it on hold while the expert all-knowing Wanda gets some cutting dimensions to me.  I like her latest Bento very much, but want to try the lazy girl version. . . less cutting and piecing.  I have a good deal of flannel lounging around, waiting for its moment in the sun, and I think that a flannel quilt for the winter months would be a great way to utilize this mess collection - 

Some of these flannels really take me back.  I remember the year that my friend Susie Horton and I would hole up on Thursday nights in my original rathole sewing room and listen to Delila and make quilts.  Good times.  Miss them.  Miss you, Susie, more than you can know.  I hope you aren't mad at me for flipping ignoring Manny this morning in traffic!  We were all caught up in one of those clusters and I was singing with the radio - for all I was worth - Nancy Griffith, I think, 'Blue Moon'.  And Manny, you were making fun of this old girl!  Embarrassing.  I still have IT.  Whatever the hell 'it' is.  I do miss you guys.

The mail lady brought this.  It's not my fault, I swear.  I blame it on Anne Hanson - she is responsible on some level for my inability to look away.  But I love her and truly, she is beyond reproach.  I take it all back.

7 DAYS and COUNTING ...

I go back to hell work in seven days.  It's an unbearable thought - it's always like this after having 10 weeks to myself to do whatever I wish to garden and quilt and knit and sew and cook and run people around.  I think that I will get all Scarlett O'Hara about it and drop into denial.  I'll think about it another day.
When we were last at the nursing home, we noticed that someone had given my father a shockingly short haircut.  Basically, his head was shaved.  I'm looking into this, and in the meantime, I thought that a warm hat might be in order to replace the ball caps that are placed on his noggin.  I dug down deep and came up with an old skein of Rowan's Cocoon.  And some Noro.

The Cocoon is extraordinary - everything about it is DENSE, yet soft.  I went back to the label to discover that it has mohair in the mix (mohair makes my skin crawl).  I realized that this hat is going to be too warm to wear indoors.  Even if it is pretty!

I'll finish it up and put it in the hat basket.  I like to keep a basket full of hats-for-the-taking.  More on that later.  For now, I'm thinking that Jared Flood's Turn A Square hat might be a better choice.  I'll use a light worsted.  I am reminded that my father used to wear a flannel hat to bed.  We children thought that this was very funny because it resembled a Santa Claus hat!  What I know now is that he lost a lot of heat through that partially bald head of his.  My mother insisted upon having the windows opened, even in the dead of winter, and their room was like a meat locker!  My mother has always believed in the healing properties of fresh air.  We don't even need to get into that, except to say that she used to dress us in our snowsuits on wintery days and shove us onto the front porch.  There could be swirling white-out conditions, but by God, we went out and took the air!         


 Dad also needs a new winter quilt.  Flannel is always so soft and comforting, so I'll need to go through the stash to see what I have - what I'll need.  I've been admiring Red Pepper Quilts for a long time, and she recently completed a quilt that she calls the Poseidon.  It's simplicity really reaches in and grabs my heart.  I love the Kona 'Snow' bordering effect too - go and have a look at her work.  I'm just wondering how I can incorporate the flannel with the cottons.  All suggestions welcomed.


Did I mention that I have to go back to work in seven days?  Last night, when I went out to admire the garden, the tip of my sandal caught on the fence and DOWN I went, into the tomatoes.  HARD.  I am sorry to admit this, but the first thought that came to me (after the initial swearing) was SHOOT!  Nothing seems to be broken!  I'll have to go back to work, after all.

And leave all of this loveliness.

PORCH SITTIN'

The front porch squatters have been evicted.  

Once again, this space is welcoming.  Peaceful.  CLEAN!

We have all missed being able to sit out here and watch the world go by.  For me, it's the best place  to have a cup of coffee and a little knitting because the sun rises on this eastern side and warms ones feet.  (Hard to believe that the Godawful heat has been replaced with a genuine chill, seemingly overnight!)  

The collar is being agreeable on my brown cotton cardi and I'll be able to wear it this fall - hooray!  Finally.

I pulled out another old project that wants finishing - a Morehouse hat in their softly wonderful merino.  The Morehouse retail store was one of my favorites.  It had a very chic New York vibe that blended into a warm countrified decor - it was really special.  One day it was open, the next - GONE!  Rumor had it that even the employees were caught unaware of the changes that occurred so rapidly - not such a good way to run a business, methinks.   (I take these 'losses' personally you know.)  Every time a great yarn shop appears around here, inevitably, it sinks to its knees within a year or two.   It's hard to make connections, to attach oneself to a LYS when its demise is foreseeable.  There is something about this area that cannot, WILL not, support a yarn shop.  We host one of the most excellent, if not THE most excellent wool festival in the northeast - The Dutchess County, or Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool Festival, yet we are unable to support One Truly Great Yarn Shop.

The colors of fall knitting- LOVELY!  Have to go now, the porch awaits -

911, nine years later

What have we learned?

It doesn't feel as though we have come together.  The random kindness that existed during the weeks that followed 911 have vanished, replaced by road rage, fear and loathing.  Here in New York State, we see a kind of ugliness that is undefined.  It's as if people are afraid all of the time and pissed off, believing that prosperity is nowhere near to being around their corner.  We suffer with extraordinary taxes in NYS and people are loosing their homes, their livelihoods.  Food prices soar, but 'living wages' are non existent and the middle class has disappeared.  We live pay cheque to pay cheque.   And it's hard to get excited about Chelsea Clinton's wedding in Rhinebeck when 15 miles away children are hungry, parents are desperate, and someone ends up dead after a Saturday night shooting.  These are mean times.  And I am trying to keep my sense of humor, my humanity. I want to gather my family even tighter and hold on.  

I have not visited the city since 911.  It's time to step onto a train and go.  There are places to visit, people to see, there is ART waiting to be viewed.  Pushing fear aside may be what I can do, for today.  It might be a very good start, indeed.  
Scott and I took Mom to the nursing home to visit Dad, and then we jetted her down to the Italian Festival for a little bit of lunch.

She's so beautiful, God I PRAY that I inherited her genes!  We had an eggplant dish, fried calamari (oh, how I will PAY for that later!) and Scott had sausage and peppers.

And of course, Scott gets to pay for everything now AND later!

People who know us know that ours is a tumultuous relationship.  We are, both of us, highly opinionated, passionate, stubborn people.  But Scott has the soft heart.  He does.  He went into the nursing home and helped the aide move and change my Dad.  And my Dad broke into an enormous grin when he saw and heard Scott's ample voice.  That's good enough for me.  Go ahead Scott, go golfing until it snows!  And I promise to keep my opinions and my honey-do list to myself.  Maybe.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI

Feeling a little restless this morning - just found out that Cesar Millan (The Dog Whisperer) will be coming to my sister's town.  She works at Elm Street Books and I think that they are hosting this event.  What's the problem, you ask?  Well, it's too bloody early to call over to Connecticut to plead for request tickets!  I luv him.  MUST. SEE. HIM. IN. PERSON. . . have questions!
Guess what season has arrived at Cloudwalk?

It's my favorite for so many reasons!

This may be the only cinderella pumpkin that you will ever see nestled in a korean boxwood.  It seems happy, the shrub?  Not so much.

I let the red basil flower and now I cannot pull it up, as the honeybees are so exuberantly gathering their energy drinks!  When they have finished, the seed heads will become a source of nourishment throughout the fall for the birds.  These are the only reasons that I don't dismiss this pest entirely.   If you have ever grown it ANYWHERE in your garden, you know it will return.  Forever.  Profusely!

A Mara turning up in the herb garden?  They are everywhere!  And I don't mean JUST in my garden.  Please go over and see the one that Renee has just completed at Renee Knits Too.  She used the Madelinetosh yarn, which is on my wish list.  Hers is an icy grey dream and I want it!  Is it too early to send wishes to Santa?


Have been going through old photos and journals and books of poetry.  It's a very sentimental journey and one that I highly recommend taking at least once a year or so.  Mine is a reminder of the importance of the arts in my life.  A few lines and a photo of the college days, in the studio...

'out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field.  I'll meet you there.'
-Rumi

A beautiful cool breeze moved in overnight that whispered - wash and block your woolens!  So Mara was first one out and there were others that followed.  I took the drapes down and pinned them on the clothesline, then washed the sheers.  Scott came and helped me wash the windows and he scoured the front porch.  We are talking major effort here - the kind that really feels wonderful and exhausting, in the same breath.  We knew that it would be so comforting to be able to sit outside on the porch again w/o all of the bird infestation!  It was worth all of the scrubbing and disinfecting!  (my back hurts)

I never wish to hear the sounds of another sparrow building a nest under the eaves -

It's one thing to take the responsibility to shepherd a place - to protect and enhance its wildlife population.  It is an entirely different story to allow the wildlife to run you out of the places that you love!   ENOUGH!

Dining room drapes airing on the line - returning to their place smelling divine!  In between the fits of Windex and elbow grease, I worked on an ancient project - a sweater that I designed years ago and never completed.  It's knitted from an old standby - and for the life of me, I cannot remember the name of this cotton. It will come to me!

I want to say Classic Elite.

This was a lot of fun to design and I STILL love it, after all of these years.  I hope to finish the buttonhole band tomorrow and have it completed by the end of the day.

It's a timeless cardigan - I love the deep rib and the chocolate goodness of the fiber.  I'm looking forward to wearing this one A LOT!

Two years ago Scott and his family received some very sobering news.  His first cousin was diagnosed with multiple tumors, originating in his lungs.  Albert is a vital 50+ year old man with an unspeakable prognosis.  We all prayed for one more Christmas.  And our prayers were answered.  And then another.  Answered.  This fight continues.  Scott likes to make a special dinner for Albert before he goes in for treatment.  The dinner always consists of caramelized vidella onions, local thickly slabbed bacon, and calves liver.  I know.  I DO know.  But how can you argue with love?   


MY contribution to this gastronomic carnivorousness (phew!) looks like this:

Tomatoes and basil fresh from the garden, topped with mozzarella and pinenuts ... drizzled with balsamic vinegar, good olive oil, salt and ground pepper.  Oh, and nasturtium blossoms, of course!  Yes Albert, they ARE edible!  Not to be outdone by Scott's prowess in the kitchen - I conned sent him off for a big basket of fresh peaches.

Peach pie with a toasted almond and oatmeal topping.  Served warm with a side of vanilla ice cream.  Makes you almost forget that part about the liver, right?  In all fairness, Scott goes to the butcher who cuts the most tender slices which are then soaked in milk overnight.  This IS a labor of love.  He then lightly flours and fries and you don't need a knife - the liver is like butter.  OK!  Enough!  There was one fella who really really REALLY hoped for something to drop from the table -

And I don't mean a stinkin' tomato or a crummy peach!

Time to minimize my Iphoto files -  there are too many images and folders and organization is no longer an option!  I found some great pics of Staniel Cay that you haven't seen -

These Nurse Sharks come to the dock daily for breakfast!  Scott tells me that they are harmless.

It's troubling to see sharks in that beautiful turquoise water!  (I've never been the same since 'Jaws" hit the theaters all of those years ago!)  The Nurse Sharks are sluggish, but they have POWERFUL jaws.  No thanks!

Scott has promised me a trip to Staniel this year.  After hearing about its beauty for so long, I NEED to see it with my own eyes.  I can place myself on this quiet beach with absolutely no effort at all - a place to reflect, to dream, to reenergize, and always, a little knitting!  What would I take with me?

A no-brainer!

non-LABOR DAY

The only laborious act today was that of a thorough trashing of old quilting magazines.   I did this because the new season of 'Hoarders' begins this evening and I want to be absolutely sure that mine is a cleared house, a clearer conscience!  I worry about my old pack-ratting tendencies.  I watch the show to keep it real.

Mexican Sunflowers - a brilliant blast of orange, a silky smooth stem.  Next season I'll plant them next to the caryopteris - imagine that cerulean blue next to the orange?  Delicious!  Back-to-work sewing has begun in earnest.  I've got my eye on this long vest and a trench coat as well -

You can't really see the detail on the jacket, but it features a wonderful pleated hem.  And I LOVE the long vest in velvet, although it would be equally fun in rayon or cord or even silk.  I'm going to have to call BFF Patty and ask if I can borrow her serger.  She'll need to teach me how to use it - I am techno-challenged when it comes to machines that involve more than one spool of thread!  Patty, can you hear me?  Patty - get off the back of that Harley and call me!!!
Have a restful, wonderful Labor-free Day All!

It's a GORGEOUS day in the northeast - it almost makes up for the despicable so-called summer that we experienced.  All of the windows in the house are open and the curtains are blowing and the dogs have ants-in-their-pants!  It's a good day to continue cleaning up the gardens, but I sewed for a while instead.

You know it is getting closer to my favorite time of the year, and it never hurts to start preparing.  I'm continuing on with my orange quilt and last year's wall hanging is going to be hand quilted and hung before October.

That's the Plan.  But you know how these things go ... something else catches your eye and current project abandonment sets in.

The batik on the right is calling to me.

EARLY PAINTINGS

I pulled out some old work this morning - in keeping with our ART theme.

The scent of linseed oil still makes me inhale deeply.  I love the heady smell of turpentine and the texture of gesso while it is drying.  Sable brushes imported from England and pigments that defy description were once more vital to me than oxygen.  I stretched my own canvases, made from linen.  I saved my allowance in order to be able to purchase one tube of ultramarine blue with its crazy-expensive price tag.  Trust me when I say that there isn't a blue that can even begin to compare with this one.  (Go and look at Starry Night again)  There was a time in my life when the only reasonable place to find me would be in the studio.  

My parents allowed me to take life drawing classes when I was a teenager.  And then, I had the opportunity to work with a local painter, the late Alex Kenne who taught me more in the short time that I studied under him than all the rest of my college studio courses combined.  

I remember a time when NOT painting was unthinkable!

Where did that confident young woman disappear to?  My dream was to become a working artist, pulling a living from the joy I experienced while painting.  Life happens.  Young marriages, children born quickly, one after another, disillusionment, single parenthood, struggle and strife... these are the components that can begin to destroy the dream.  I will never regret, not for one moment, the gift of my children.  And truth be told - I wasn't an accomplished painter - even though I loved it very much.  Today, I have found a 'canvas' that makes my heart glad.

I don't worry about art critique, I simply create.  And it's enough, for today.  But sometimes, when passing by this old piece, a quick glance can evoke a perfect spring night, many years ago when anything and everything was possible.  A magnolia branch brought into the studio, wet with the evening's dew upon it - a moment captured forever.