Quilt-A-Long

Charm packs make 4 nice 2.5" squares, I'll be using them for the Quilt-A-Long at Crazy Mom Quilts. I like this idea of a nine patch set in a sashing. Simple, a good project for a tired soul at the end of the day. I still can't decide what to sash them with, but that will come.

Some of the larger art quilts are packed away for my time living by the sea. This is o.k. I have found that the fabric pieces for these works are still in the process of coming my way, so I can accept that they are not ready to see fruition quite yet. Thought my studio is whittled to a three drawer cart and musical machines, I find such peace in sewing where I can see the sea, hear the gulls, and watch tankers swiftly make their way out again. I wonder how they counter boredom on those long hours at sea, or if it is much like the home, always a task that can be done.

The sun streams in, beating down hard on the geraniums on the deck. White, planted on each end of the window box, I have not found yet what is to constitute the middle. My husband sleeps on the couch in the shade of the blind.

Days by the sea pass with thoughts of the horizon. An eagle flew past today while I ate breakfast in the soft shaft spotlight of morning light. A day with both the eagle and my favorite blue tanker, definitely had the makings of bliss.

Marblized Color

Spring weather somehow induces me to sew. Quilts, a dress, a handbag perhaps - I haven't made one yet and have been wanting to, with a matching wallet. All in time, I planted white geraniums, they stand out but nicely commend a background of deep blue sea, but somehow the garden doesn't hold it's allure quite yet.

Here is an organizing project, my DMC floss boxes covered with marblized paper to add a touch of class that plastic just sadly lacks.


I think about a thought- will America become a stronger nation? Amid all the worry for our country and our citizens, that is one comfort I suppose, that we stand to gain with loss.

Resolution

It took me a month. But I decided. I needed one simple resolution, nothing complex, just deep.

To be a better person.

That's it.

The writing is going, slowly, scratched pieces of lined legal pad paper which flow along to the cadence of the sea. I will type soon these little snippets, and hopefully get back into posting some of the projects that have been going on.

Living by the sea, the sea air, saves me. The tugs are spraying water today. I watched two tankers come in this morning.

Hello Again

Has it been that long?
I'm still around.
There have been setbacks to pulling the home together as I wish.
But the thing with setbacks is they are very often totally beyond your control.
And that is fine. I keep trying. And then the dishwasher goes out.
Boxes are moving to storage, a bookcase went yesterday.
Little by little the place is getting to be how I want it.
I've been sewing a little. Easy stuff, no concentration required.
I find it relieves stress.

I like living by the beach.
Hearing the waves.
Watching the sea faring traffic, and the way their lights provide atmosphere at night.
There is ample light and fresh air, and what more could one ask.

Again

The beach house is calming, and I look out to sea water and curious little tug boats hauling around all manners of big ships. I feel blessed. In abundance.

I look around and there is everything that remains to make a home a home. Boxes to sort, items to put away. All manner of things to be cleaned, polished, washed, and deposited in a new home that will function with purpose.

This stage is the awful stage, the stage of dancing around boxes, and looking for five minutes for things that should be at hand. The frustration will subside, and once the utility items are put away, then it is time to frost the house with the beauty. To put up the pictures and the art and the quilts that make a home into something personal. To tell the story of a life, as an exhibition of fine art.

Summer

The summer is going well.

The boxes are being unpacked.

I see the sea everyday.

I've made one quilt block.

I'm not sure there is anything more eerie than being in an empty home on a nice day scrubbing in silence. Meditation is found in many ways, but manual labor seems the most instant for me now. I'm letting go of this house in the country. The yard has grown up and daisies speckle the field.

It is a morning for water skiing, and following that shiny black lab that wanders about on the beach all by itself, like it were just a step behind a ghost owner, or it had a mind of it's own that it couldn't make up, and it was freed to go about and snoop in seaweed filled corners and claw at the pebbles.

The beach life is much different. To me it truly feels like home. I love the privacy of space and the green of pasture; but my heart stops truly for the sea and shore. The roses were watered and they have bloomed with all this change, and I take that steadily to heart.

I'm still working on closing this chapter before I start another. It has worn me down: the cleaning, the closing up, the thinking about the "lasts". The last meal and the last . . .

I'm thankful for this time. For the sore muscles and the fatigue, and the feeling of satisfaction when a room is done and ready for someone else. I exist day to day now with just the basics, and nothing I really want to find yet packed up in a pyramid in the new place. My mere annoyance that I cannot see the sea from the kitchen because this marvel of boxes blocks the view.

I long for creative time and in the quiet moments I search for the creativity in repetitive tasks. I fear that the only creating is in the new cleanness and not making something from separate pieces. So in the now I will rise and go back to finish out the old life so I can get on with the new, I am just a crab after all leaving the old skin behind and letting my sadness go with it.